Gone Fishing: An Ode to Childhood and Fairechild Rain Gear

As one who shares an imagination which may be so fondly described as to bare a likeness to that of Anne Shirley, it really comes as no surprise that I have occupied myself with the sensational practice of giving each and every wonderful place a name of its own. And so, in our 18 months on this property, we (my three year old daughters and I) have given many names to our very fondest haunts.

On the west end of the property is “The Enchanted Forest”. In the warmth of summer we pick wild plums, blackberries, and grapes. We picnic under a splendidly shaded, arched tree—which was spotted one evening as the golden sun pierced through the arch, as if begging to be seen, though all but hidden by any number of hawthorn trees and blackberry stickers—our “Secret Garden”. Just south of the Secret Garden we’ve made a little foot trail which leads to a hollowed out log, “Gnome Hollow”, which has been filled with ivy leaves, plum pits, wild mushrooms, hawthorn berries, and any other seasonal offerings which seem ideal for a family of little gnomes and their dearest friends. To the north is the “Bunny Burrow”, where Benjamin and Peter, naughty little bunnies who are often caught sniffing around our garden, are believed to take residence.

And when the rain falls and the air is crisp, the barren trees soak their trunks in a pool of “Deep Deep Water”, where the fallen leaves are transformed into a sea of fish, which are very thoughtfully caught for the shy little barn cat who has only ever been seen from a distance, and fittingly named “Snowflake”, for her winter white coat.

It is all unexpectedly whimsical when one chooses to believe in the world of possibilities that is alive within.

And while I may joyfully take a morsel of credit for igniting the ideas of such places, I cannot rightfully take claim of the true magic I’ve been invited to experience. Oh no, you see that ownership belongs entirely to the flawless union of nature and childhood; the poetry of changing seasons and unbridled reverie.

Children don’t need to be told how to enjoy being outdoors. They simply need to be equipped so that they may freely explore and investigate the changing world around them, as safely as possible.

When the days are warm and dry, my children need very little apart from a constant reminder to wear shoes—and while I’d be the first to let them run barefoot forever and ever, it would turn out that we tilled our garden plot right on top of what once was a black smith shop and no matter how many buckets of rusty nails and tools we’ve collected from the earth, there always seems to be another. And beyond the garden, the benefit to shoes can surely met by the sweetly scented ground clover, much loved by the bees (who feel very threatened by the treading of bare toddler feet), and the impossible number of blackberry starts poking their thorny little heads out of the ground around every which corner. But I’ll be the first to pull up a chair (and grab a camera), to enjoy the fleeting thrill of little bare buns running about in sun hats and sandals on an endlessly sunny day.

And when days become shorter, we are often greeted by an myriad of weepy rain clouds. We’ve learned to welcome them with gratitude, recognizing the many beautiful things which are attributed to a long season of nourishing rains. But even in gratitude, we have been faced with extra difficulties of extended play outdoors.

Up until a few months ago, my dearest Lucy would wear no such pants that would have a hem touch her shoes in any way. The only way in which we may cover her legs and don shoes on a cold winters day, was with a pair of tights. But as children are drawn to puddles as moth are drawn to a flame, it would only be a short matter of time before a pair of tights were soaked and muddy and boots were being pulled off and dumped out like buckets—which is as fun as anything until the bitter cold winds bite through the soaking wet clothes and the only place of reprieve is a warm bath for the children and a cold soak for the tights.

I’ve long been keeping my eye on Fairchild rain gear. Drawn, not only to the very adorable timeless styles and simple colors, but also to the fashion in which they are ethically produced, I have patiently planned and budgeted for the day we would comfortably spend long hours outside, living within the idea that there is no bad weather, only bad clothes.

But given the nature of our wardrobe woes—requiring pants that don’t touch shoes—my husband was rightfully skeptical of investing in two pairs of rain pants, for worry that one pair would go untouched.

As both of the girls were coming in need of new raincoats, we opted to purchase one set (raincoat and rain pants) for Jane, and introduce the possibility of getting both for Lucy as well. The first day we were able to test the rain gear, the girls splashed among the seasons first puddles with the utmost delight; Jane, dry head to toe, and Lucy with pink little legs, soaking wet undies, and boots full of water.

After this little experience, we asked Lucy if she’d want her own pair of rain pants or if she’d rather just have a new raincoat. At first she wasn’t sure, but as the rainy days became the daily expectation, she began to ask if we could order her new rain gear, pants and a coat.

The long awaited day came, when Lucy too received her rain gear. Excited, we unwrapped the package with the utmost enthusiasm. Thrilled with her new gear, both girls donned their coats and pants and set straight away for an adventure. It was a day of celebration to be sure, and now, in the sweetest of ways, Lucy often looks down and says, “Look mama, I’m wearing boots with my pants because I grew bigger now!”.

Admittedly, even with the perfect rain gear to equip my dear children, I myself have still struggled to get us all outdoors over the past month of everlasting rains. Perhaps some of my apprehension comes from the unyielding exhaustion which comes with the third trimester of growing a baby—all the while caring endlessly for three year old twins. Oh and there are any other number of excuses I could conjure up, but just the other day the sun peeked its happy little face out from behind a little cloud, and in desperate need of the fresh air, we wasted not a moment getting our bodies out the door.

As we wandered, exploring the change of the grounds which come with each new season, we found that our Secret Garden had been transformed into a Deep Deep Water, where a hundred thousand fish lay just beneath the surface waiting to be caught. Finding themselves eager to explore the deeper waters, beyond that of the “sandy bank” of wood chips, we ran back to the house, slipped into their rain gear, and set off for a grand adventure of deep sea fishing.

Such an adventure was exactly what we needed as it reinvigorated our spirits and cast upon us a restored energy for embracing the joys of each changing season.

A final note for the inquiring minds. Upon coming inside and undressing, Jane (in blue) maintained dry socks and boots. Lucy (in green), however submerged herself deep enough while sitting in the water, that she did manage to fill her boots with water in the end—but remained dry from just above the ankle and beyond—all things considered (as seen in pictures above), we can’t possibly complain.

And now, I’ll be over here dreaming of the coming day when I can cloth myself in such stylish and sustainable rain gear, right alongside them.