Growing More Than Food: Children in the Permaculture Landscape

Last year, a woman in my town was cleaning up her yard for spring. “Free sticks,” the Facebook marketplace post read, “if you can haul them away.” I arranged for pickup as soon as I saw it. A towering mess of branches waited in the corner of her yard. I didn’t know what I’d do with them, only that I should take them. My body knew before my mind. I loaded them into my SUV, knowing they were kindling for some future idea, something not yet imagined.

Later that day, passing a neighbor on her porch wrangling her three sun-warmed children, the answer presented itself. I offered her the sticks—"fort fuel," I said, "or maybe trellises." Her eyes lit up with that glint of possibility, the one that comes when a parent glimpses a long summer ahead and wonders what might fill it. Her kids watched with curious excitement as I unloaded them on the side of their driveway. 

By June, I’d walk by and see their twiggy tipi village rising from the yard like tiny dwellings from another world. By fall, their structures had taken numerous forms, shaped by not only those children, but many others in the neighborhood who came to play. 

But they weren’t done. This spring, my neighbor and her husband joined in and transformed the remnants into a glorious little mud kitchen, complete with scavenged tables and thrifted bowls. Now every child on the block comes to concoct leaf stew and decorate pies with petals. It’s not just cute. It’s alive. It’s a biodiverse system of joy, learning, and communion… all rooted in sticks that otherwise might have been destined for the landfill.

When we design with permaculture in mind, we often think of yield: tomatoes, eggs, compost. But what about the yield of delight? Of confidence and mess? Of a child learning to read the language of bees and the rhythm of worms?

Children’s spaces in the garden should be more than an afterthought or a plastic slide tacked onto the side. They can be invitations—to wonder, to observation, to collaboration with the living world. In permaculture, we seek relationships: between plants, between systems. And children, in their wild genius, are relationship incarnate.

Here are a few ideas drawn from the patterns of permaculture, tuned for the small hands and big hearts of children:

• Zones of Play: Just as we place herbs close to the kitchen, place children’s spaces close to where adults already work. That way, they can be near without being underfoot—offering them independence with a thread of connection.

• Use What You Have: That pile of sticks, an old pot, a stump—these can be treasure to a child. Let their imaginations and the land’s suggestions guide the design.

• Edge Habitats: Children thrive in the margins—between lawn and forest, garden and path. Cultivate these liminal zones with willow tunnels, log balances, or a hidden fairy corner. The edges are where life is most diverse.

• Encourage Participation: Let kids plant a chaos bed of sunflower and squash. Give them a trowel and some seeds and call it science. They’ll learn more by doing badly than by watching perfectly.

• Think Cycles, Not Finish Lines: Today’s mud kitchen might be next year’s compost pile. Let structures evolve with your family’s needs. Let decay be part of the play.

  
  

When I think of my neighbor’s yard, I’m reminded that our landscapes are not just where we grow food—they're where we grow humans. The most resilient gardens are the ones that nourish more than the stomach. They hold play, story, freedom, and discovery.

So gather your sticks. Let the land speak. Let the children lead.

And may your garden be wild with wonder.