My family was one of the last to get a computer. While my friends all slowly uncovered this wondrous new invention, I happily built tree forts in the lane behind our house. What did I care for building a world on a tiny square screen? I already had a world I had built myself, and it was endlessly more entertaining. In that world, I could swing through treetops and feel the fresh air on my skin. I could leap from branch to branch like a monkey, priding myself on the ease with which I flew through the canopy. I had built my own world, not using pixels and an internet connection, but using nails from the hardware store, and wood salvaged from construction projects around town.

My brother was always there with me; he strung up ropes to swing from, nailed boards into tree trunks dangerously high off the ground, tied up sticks into crude rope ladders. We would always create our own village, population two. We collected leaves as our currency, and to earn more money we’d have to go to our jobs. Our jobs could be anything that needed doing at the time. If the tree forts needed sweeping, then that would earn us three leaves. If the ground needed raking, maybe we could take home five leaves for our efforts. Sometimes we’d be hired by a contractor, and we’d get a nice salary if we built a new tree fort, or cleared the way for a new rope swing. Our village was well governed, and was populated by hard working and cheerful citizens.

I am older now, and my time is governed by various things of necessity. Homework, scholarship applications, music festival, sports teams, the list is endless. I don’t visit the back lane as much as I’d like, but at any moment I can, I steal back there. Sitting high amongst the tree branches, listening to the bird song and lazing in the dappled sunlight, I relax and sink back against the sturdy tree trunk, my weight supported by platforms that I built. During warmer months, I bring my homework with me, the fresh air bringing clarity and calmness to my thoughts.

For all the time I have spent in the back lane, I have learned many things. I have learned that owls don’t chew their food, that rope ladders are trickier to navigate than they seem. I have learned that composted leaves turn into a beautifully fertile soil, that periwinkles make for beautiful hair decorations, and, speaking of hair, once united with tree sap, I’ve learned that together they form an inseparable couple. Most importantly though, I’ve learned to appreciate nature; the cool shade from the treetops on hot summer days, the fawns that carefully trip through the lane in spring time, the smell of a cedar branch when cut and nailed into place as a railing. I worry, slightly, that other people will never experience these simple joys. I’m concerned that so many children prefer to spend their days indoors, creating fake worlds instead of real ones. My worry isn’t for their peace of mind or their real world skills, although certainly it’s worth consideration. I’m more uneasy about how they are not growing up to appreciate their own world. If we do not care for our environment, if we do not want it to survive, then it won’t. If we’re quite content with bowling over forests and slapping malls, movie theaters, and fast food joints in the void, then exactly that will happen. We need to build a connection with the planet that will make any suggestion of ruining it an insult to everything that we love.

In an ideal world, people would never use computers for entertainment purposes. They’re certainly handy and convenient to use for research and homework, and I use them frequently for these reasons. But every moment I slave away behind the unforgivingly bright screen, I wish I was out on the water, kayaking to some undiscovered island, or hiking through the bush with nothing but the sounds of birds and wind. This love for nature is what makes me wish to conserve it; and I know that without this love extending to more people, then deforestation, drilling, and burning will never cease. People have to feel a connection to something in order to preserve it, and if this connection is never developed, then the natural world becomes something of indifference, something that exists to be exploited.

My wish for you is to love the world you live in. Become familiar with its beauty and its fragile charm. Not only is loving what is around you good for the preservation of your environment, but I guarantee you’ll live a much more fulfilled life. Computers provide an empty pleasure; a type of pleasure that exists to entertain in the moment. No real, lasting memories or feelings of pride can come from a virtual world; but oh, the indescribable satisfaction of building something with your own two hands. So go outside! Discover an alpine field of wildflowers, kayak across the bay, build a tree fort and sleep in it for the night, watch the sunset from a newly discovered promontory! Learn to love the world that you were born in; the world you will inhabit for the rest of your life.