My mother likes to joke that out of all the (countless) meals she has ever prepared for our family, the one she will be most remembered for is the time we all accidentally ate moldy tortillasÌý— only noticing as we pulled out the last one from the bag, after having just eaten all the rest.
It was a simple meal: tortillas slathered in peanut butter, each wrapped around a banana, yet it was one of the most memorable meals of my life —Ìýnot only because of the mold we consumed, butÌýbecause it was a picnic.
Her own summers were filled with campfires and crafts. Now she’s making sure other kids get the same chance.
Her own summers were filled with campfires and crafts. Now she’s making sure other kids get the same chance.
I was eight years old the fall we packed what we needed for a canoe trip not far from Algonquin Provincial Park. When we heard the sound of rushing water echoing across the lake, my parents slowed the boat, unsure whether we were near the top of a waterfall or drifting toward its base. As it turned out, we were at the bottom.Ìý
We pulled ashore and began climbing up through the forest to find the source. The trees seemed to be growing out of rocks rather than rooted in soil, and we moved carefully — still wearing our life jackets, just in case. Eventually, we reached the top.
There, on the rocks beside the gushing falls, my mom chose to unpack our snacks.
These excursions with my grandpa over many summers ignited a flame.
These excursions with my grandpa over many summers ignited a flame.
What we ate didn’t matter. What mattered was that we were outside, together,Ìýwith a view of our natural surroundings: the smell of the fallen pine needles on the forest floor, birdsÌýoverheard, squirrels, chipmunks, the mist rising off the water. No wonder none of us looked twice at theÌýtortillas to notice the mold.
As I got older, I started collecting what I call my “official picnic blankets†— waterproof bases, tightly woven fabric, colours that hide grass stains. I have baskets, bike attachments, emergency snacks in every bag. It’s fair to say I’ve always been, and always will be, a proud picnicker.
But it shouldn’t feel like a privilege to eat a meal outdoors. And yet, with rising grocery prices and inflation, many families are struggling to feed their children,Ìýlet alone be able to enjoy a lunch in the park to take in all the great outdoors has to offer.
I was 21 the first time I went camping — and honestly, I hadn’t planned on it.
I was 21 the first time I went camping — and honestly, I hadn’t planned on it.
The ÎÚÑ»´«Ã½ Star Fresh Air Fund, an initiative of The ÎÚÑ»´«Ã½ Star Children’s Charities, helps change that. It provides grants to day and overnight camps that subsidize fees for children whose families couldn’t otherwise afford to send them — giving kids a chance to experience nature, friendship and the simple joy of being outside.
If you have the means, please consider donating to the ÎÚÑ»´«Ã½ Star Fresh Air Fund. Help give children a chance to make memories outsideÌý— and maybe even discover the quiet magic of a picnic.
The ÎÚÑ»´«Ã½ Star Fresh Air Fund
³Ò°¿´¡³¢:Ìý$650,000Ìý
TO DATE:Ìý$436,784.00Ìý
How to donate:
Online:
To donate by Visa, Mastercard or Amex using our secure form.
By cheque:
Mail to the ÎÚÑ»´«Ã½ Star Fresh Air Fund, 8 Spadina Ave., ÎÚÑ»´«Ã½, ON M5V 0S8
By phone: Call 647-250-8282
Tax receipts will be issued.
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