Published on July 3, 2025
Think back to your favourite place to play as a kid. Can you still hear the sounds, feel the textures or smell the air?
These places stay with us. Whether it was a forest trail, a local pond or a patch of dirt in the backyard, childhood play spaces leave a lasting mark. That’s why it’s so important to ensure children today have access to safe, vibrant and climate-resilient places to play.
We believe those early experiences shape how we continue to play throughout our lives. After all, play isn’t just for kids. If we design our cities for inclusive play — beyond the clichés of swings, slides and jungle gyms — we open up more ways for people to connect with each other and with nature.
In this story, we asked our staff to share reflections on their childhood spaces for play and how that shaped their sense of play as adults.
My favourite childhood place was anywhere you’d hear the loud, boisterous laughs of aunts and uncles and the quieter sounds of my cousins planning what to do next. I grew up with a large extended family who took us kids anywhere that they could have a good picnic, cook some Filipino food on the BBQ, hang out in the sun or make a good campfire. My summers were spent taking walks on trails and beaches, imagining we were on grand adventures, stumbling on streams and fallen logs like they were bridges to the hidden spaces. Pools were oceans, and we were mermaids; backyards were new planets for exploring. No place to plug in a game console, no fighting over who got the next turn. Just us and our imaginations.
Now I am always looking for time in the sun, time away from my phone and life stresses. We try to fit in hangouts into busy schedules, and there is definitely less getting dirty and scraped up. When I get to hang out with friends and play a board game or go for a hike or adventure to some place new, I appreciate the fact that it requires much more effort on my end than being six years old watching my parents put up a tent.
As an adult when I get to experience these moments, I am much more present. Stopping to admire trees, flowers, bugs and water, and thinking how lovely it is that nature continues to persist. I find myself looking for ways to honour it and make it an everyday part of life.
I grew up in Brampton until I was nine, at the end of a cul-de-sac (a dead-end street). There was very little traffic, so I spent a lot of time outside with the neighbourhood kids playing games in the street. I remember a strong impression of it being a safe place to spend a lot of time outside. In the winter, the snowplows would pile snow in the middle of the street, creating a snow mountain that we would climb and slide down.
It is also where I first learned to ride a bike, going in circles around the street for hours. Cycling continues to be so important to me; I still cycle a lot throughout Toronto, where I now live. Toronto’s ravine system is huge, and the trails feel endless — riding them gives me a keen sense of adventure. I love exploring outdoors — whether the streets of the city, parks or the wider ravine network, the public realm has so much to offer.
The feeling of safety I had as a kid is a bit different now, especially when cycling. Having safe, separated infrastructure (bike lanes!) is so important, especially so children, families and really everyone can feel safe when moving around their city.
My favourite outdoor place to play as a kid was a trail and pond near my childhood home on Prince Edward Island. I still remember the distinct scent of red earth and pond water. With my siblings, cousins and neighborhood friends, we often explored the pond and its seasonal wonders — tadpoles, frogs, salamanders, dragonflies, duckweed and more. We followed streams feeding into it, and we spent countless hours skipping rocks. We even tried fishing a few times, though I don’t remember our efforts being successful.
Cattails fascinated me as a young kid. I enjoyed how they looked like hot dogs and produced endless amounts of fluffy “stuff.” I somehow convinced myself that the cattail fluff was what was used to stuff pillows. One day, I gathered a number of cattail heads and asked a kind neighbour who could sew if she could make me a small pillow. She very sweetly obliged — but secretly switched the cattail fluff for regular pillow stuffing. I was none-the-wiser, and it was likely a few years before I realized the truth.
As I’ve gotten older, days can sometimes feel busy and full to the brim with adult responsibilities. I recently moved back to the Island to be near family, and I’m happy to report that my sense of play is returning. I went back to my childhood pond; I was amazed by how much things had changed and grown. The clearing to the pond is now filled with trees exponentially taller than me. I guess we’ve both done a lot of growing over the years.
Growing up, the Persian Gulf was my backyard. I remember spending many days with my family at the beach playing cricket, building sandcastles or racing each other on who could finish their ice cream the fastest. However, my favourite pastime was standing on the shoreline feeling the sand as the waves ebbed and flowed between my toes. How did the waves know when to pause and go back into the sea? It was in such moments of curiosity that I learned the sea, or rather nature, was living and breathing, just like you and me.
At that age, I did not realize how pivotal such playful moments of questioning would shape my respect, fascination and joy towards nature because to date, I find myself seeking such moments of connection with nature even in a big city like Toronto. Whether it’s appreciating the wildflowers growing out of our urban landscape, cloud watching at the local park or observing marine critters underwater, I’m grateful to have kept this innate connection with nature and I welcome everyone to slow down, observe and allow nature to show you her beauty because she has a lot of stories to tell — we all just need to listen.
I have many fond memories of going to the Toronto Botanical Garden throughout my childhood. I recall it as a peaceful and natural paradise with tons of tulips. My father was an avid gardener. I recall watching him admire all the plants and taking lots of photos every time we visited. I remember how steep the paths felt and running down them with barely any control. I recall learning about weeping willow trees by the creek and how willows = water. At that time, I was beginning to realize how sad plant names can be — weeping willows and bleeding hearts?!
Luckily, I’m able to maintain a strong relationship with play as a mom to a young child. My six-year-old is all about sports right now, so evenings and weekends are spent in the park playing soccer, catch or chasing him as he rides his bike. For me, the outdoors is one of those constants in life where milestones happen. When I became a mom, I naturally took my baby to the Toronto Botanical Garden.
Wasaga Beach Provincial Park is the world’s longest freshwater beach and is one of Ontario’s most unique coastal dune ecosystems. Growing up, I remember wading out into the water with my siblings, watching the minnows swim at my feet, and listening to the waves while we played in the sand. My siblings and I loved biking along the beach on cool days, climbing the shoreline trees, building sandcastles and sculptures, swimming and playing at one of the parks along the shoreline.
Any time I’m at the beach, I still find myself making some sort of sculpture out of sand. As an adult, I incorporate play into my life through gardening, sports and board games. I also think that play can happen organically without structure. I find that when my siblings and I are out for a walk with no phones, play usually finds us!
Being in nature has a deeply calming effect on me — just like it did when I was a child. Growing up with nature at the centre of my life helped me develop a strong connection to it and a sense of responsibility to protect and care for it. I think that feeling has always been there, but through studying ecology and learning about the relationships between native flora and fauna, I now have the knowledge and tools to take meaningful stewardship actions.
Learn more
Not ready yet to jump outdoors and climb the next tree you see? Come play with us at Evergreen Brick Works! Unplug and build connections thanks to our nature inspired team building experiences. Or stay tuned for the official announcement of the reopening of the Children’s Garden — a special place where kids can enjoy outdoor play and make lasting memories.
Want to help us build more places for children build lifelong connections to outdoor play? Learn about the Climate Ready Schools program, transforming school grounds into nature-rich play and learning environments for both children and their communities.
