Spend time with a young child or grandchild and you will grasp the significance of that line from the poem “My Heart Leaps Up,” a celebration of nature by William Wordsworth: “The child is father to the man.” I can still remember when one of my children, probably just two or three years old, stopped along our walk to bend down and stare at a dandelion flower. And suddenly I found myself staring down at that same bright yellow flower in awe, despite having walked past hundreds, if not thousands, of them in the past, and, moreover, having dug them out, roots and all, from our front lawn and tossed them into the trash. But here, for the first time, I stared at that intricate flower, marveling at its complex beauty.

And I experienced a similar moment of awe as one of my children or grandchildren paused to watch a butterfly on a flower or a ladybug on a fallen leaf or a congregation of ants hurrying in and out of an ant hill, including a few arrivals carrying what appeared to be supplies or even food.

Yes, our youngest children have something vital to teach the rest of us, namely, how truly amazing is the living world all around us. Stop to study the patterns on the tree bark or the designs of a maple leaf or any of the hundreds of plants and animals in your neighborhood.

Which brings me to spider webs. My latest experience of awe has been marveling at the engineering achievements of the half dozen or so spiders that have adorned our back porch bannisters with their webs. I have learned that sitting quietly on the back porch studying and admiring those webs is perhaps the best form of mediation I have ever experienced. Just think of the engineering skills involved in methodically creating one of those complex webs.

So, as trite as this advice may seem, there is great wisdom in that old adage that encourages each of us to “stop and smell the roses.”