She'd been standing nearly still, ankle-deep in the receding tide for about half an hour when I summoned Aya toward the trail leading away from Discovery Park's South Beach. With none of the prompting that human interactions usually entail, to my surprise Aya called "Thank you, little water!" 'Little water', hmm. Seems that Puget Sound has joined that short list of characters in Aya's life meriting an affectionate diminutive - usually just her brother "Little Zaidie," her favorite stuffed animal "Little doggie purse," and occasionally me, "Little Mama."

I'm tempted to believe that biophilia ("a life enhancing sense of rootedness in nature" - Richard Louv, as discussed in my June column) is setting in - but that might be like seeing shades of Van Gogh in a first fingerpainting. Rootedness is probably the opposite of genius, at least in its source. I suppose what matters is long-term, consistent exposure to that which you hope your child to know and love. It is in this spirit that I've begun seeking out nature experiences around us.

To begin with, I've realized that anywhere you turn in Ballard you're looking toward at least one of Seattle's best parks. Discovery Park is to the south, Golden Gardens on the western shore, Carkeek Park not far north, and both the Zoo and Green Lake just east of Ballard. These were obvious choices to begin facilitating interactions with nature and I'm finding them worth getting to know well (thank you, little parks!).

Discovery and Carkeek parks both have excellent programs for children, ranging from helpful naturalists stationed on the beaches at low tide to nature-focused day camps in summer. We're signed up for two of Discovery Park's "tot walks" this quarter - one-hour nature explorations on a theme designed for 2-4 year-olds. And a few weeks ago we spent several hours at Carkeek Park's low tide festival where squirting clam holes and purple sea stars were plentiful, and where I learned from a beach naturalist that those rubbery, sandy things looking for all the world like large toilet plungers are actually moon snails' egg collars. The salmon run at Carkeek Park in late fall also feels like a festival on weekends when the volunteer docents are on hand. Kids run along the banks of Pipers Creek, trying not to shout when they spot a spawning fish to add to the daily count being kept at the docents' table.

Beyond the big parks, we've found a few smaller spots around the neighborhood that bring some of the thrill of nature. The P-patch we share with a friend at Greg's Garden (in east Ballard) is always good for some hands-on biology learning. A big, shiny beetle was exploring the jungle of our herbs last time as we watered young pumpkin vines.

We often visit Licton Springs Park, near North Seattle Community College, especially when we want a break from the sun. Licton Springs feels like a city park on its periphery, but the heart of the park is a shady wetland crisscrossed with paths and bridges. The wetland is fed by the park's namesake, and one of the springs is still easily visible. To me it feels primordial when we crouch near the eye of the spring and peer into its rusty depths. I can't speak for Aya, but a toddler's momentary silence speaks for itself. On the way home we always stop to enjoy the life's work of a late local naturalist, Charles Pilling. Pilling's Pond, on 90th Street, just west of Wallingford Avenue, is home to many types of waterfowl, including dramatic South American black-necked swans. A fading placard behind the chain-link fence identifies this and other species. In many ways this is the quintessential urban experience, peeking through a fence from the sidewalk, but I can get lost with those birds sometimes.

Our rainy day favorite nature excursion is to take a picnic (or Lockspot fish 'n chips!) to the fish ladder at the locks. I think it's the uncertainty, the thrill of glimpsing a salmon as it flashes into murky view that makes this feel much more like nature than the aquarium or the zoo. But speaking of the zoo, there's competition for the #1 rainy day slot now. Aya completed her first "Nature Exchange" project at Zoomazium today ("build-a-bug" - like Mr. Potato Head with pincers and antennae) and was rewarded with 100 points - enough to trade in for two small, polished shells. For the most part, I have serious reservations about whether Zoomazium will help anyone "find your place in the animal world," (as the slogan goes) more than any other tot gym. But the Nature Exchange portion can be exciting and educational, and in any case you can find your place in Zoomazium when the rest of the animal world is sopping wet.

Of course, another good use of rainy days is planning something for the next sunny one. I've been indulging in that pleasure a few overcast afternoons lately with the help of a wonderful book, Nature in the City: Seattle by the very knowledgeable local authors Maria Dolan and Kathryn True. The Kiwanis Ravine heron colony and lichens at Mount Pleasant sound intriguing....