At an education conference in Nebraska, Maria Mayo-Peaseley watched a presentation about the Environmental Kinship Guide, a new approach to early-childhood learning that emphasizes different ways to connect with nature.
“My hair stood on end,” she said. “I was like, this is exactly what we’ve been looking for.”
Mayo-Peaseley is a branch manager for Anythink Libraries. The independent library district in Adams County is getting ready to open its eighth location, on Aug. 8, a new $45 million site in Thornton on East 136th Street.
By the time Mayo-Peaseley found herself furiously taking notes in Nebraska, construction on the new site was already underway. The land had been secured from the city of Thornton — 15 acres on a 140-acre parcel of open space — and the concept had been cleared. They were to build a “nature library.”
But, when it came to designing, stocking and organizing this new public amenity, what did a nature library actually mean?
“Is it traditional in the sense that we have like a children, teen and adult area, like in public libraries? Or do we have a sun area and a stars area?” Mayo-Peaseley said.
The Kinship Guide breaks down connections to nature into four categories: learning about nature, in nature, with nature and for nature. Mayo-Peaseley brought that concept — normally used to create lesson plans — and applied it to the whole building.
The effect is a dizzying commitment to something far beyond a typical library.
The Nature Library building spirals inward toward a central garden, and is segmented by the four themes of the Kinship Guide, with each section — about, in, with and for nature — housing different collections of nature-based books. (About one-third of the collection will be typical fare, like bestsellers and new releases.) The “learning about” section, for instance, will have books about biology, weather and beetles — the science-y side of things, said Mark Fink, executive director of Anythink Libraries. The “learning with” section has poetry, fiction and a wall of Indigenous writings.
But the books are almost beside the point. The space is also set up with hands-on workshop spaces for learning about herbal tinctures and natural dyes, and massive windows with views in every direction. There are seats made from boulders, four gardens, and a dark room made of charred wood with twinkly star lights, for story times. There is a huge living plant wall and tiny brass flora and fauna embedded in the floors. There is also a mile-long trail that circles the property and the mud pit. Yeah, the mud pit.
Is space nature?
Anythink has been doing things differently since about 2004, when it turned the Rangeview Library District — formerly Adams County libraries — into a special taxing district. To call what happened next a rebranding might be a bit of an understatement.
The new library district, then ranked as the most poorly funded in the state, got voter approval in 2006 to bump up the mill levy they collected. That tripled the library district’s operating revenue just before the recession took hold and libraries became important social spaces to look for jobs. At the same time, the district hired a marketing firm to help build a new image — one that leaned away from a place that could only offer quiet, dusty stacks and free internet access. In 2009, Anythink emerged.
Their new brand of library ditched the Dewey decimal system for what they call the bookshop model, grouping titles by theme and then author, allowing for a more freeform browsing experience. They are even considering mixing kids, teen and adult books based on subject matter at the nature library — but they’re still working out the details. Librarians there are called “guides,” and the people who make sure the inventory is in order are “wranglers.”
Getting rid of the numerical system that most libraries use also means that, inevitably, there are questions when it’s time for staff to actually buy the books, like:
Is space nature?
What about house cats?
Is hockey an outdoor sport?
“There are no hard and fast rules for where things should go,” Mayo-Peaseley said. “So it’s a big experiment.”
About that mud pit
The libraries also emphasize their vast cache of what they call “TryIts.” TryIts are essentially libraries of objects: board games, button makers, mini karaoke machines. They have seven theremins — a niche electronic instrument — floating around their system, four punch needle rug-hooking kits, and two handheld air-quality monitors that can be checked out with a library card. The New York Times recently caught wind of Anythink’s ghost hunting kits.
Naturally, the Nature Library will focus on building a library of outdoor gear, like backpacks, snowshoes and binoculars for birdwatching. They want to be the place where someone learns how to set up a tent, or makes their first campsite reservation.
“We know that not everyone comes to their relationship with nature from the same place. A lot of us don’t have those generational experiences, getting to the mountains can be really cost-prohibitive, as we all know,” Fink said. “And so this is that place to really, if you will, gear up in so many different ways to go and have an adventure.”
All of the Anythink libraries are part of the Backpack Program by Colorado Parks and Wildlife, which offer a backpack stocked with wildflower, bird and night-sky guides, binoculars, magnifying glasses, bug boxes, and free entry to all of Colorado’s state parks. More than 300 libraries around the state offer the backpacks to patrons for up to seven days.
Just beyond the future gear room, between raised beds of lemon thyme, oregano, salvia and basil, Mayo-Peaseley took a deep breath and encouraged visitors to pinch the herbs for their aromas.
“Our relationships, or at least our young people’s relationships to nature have become very tidy and very protected,” she said. “So this is a place to kind of let loose and play in the mud.” She gestured down the hillside at a dried dirt patch with silver water pumps at its edge. “Make a mud pie, throw some mud, whatever you want.”
“We do have a mudroom inside,” she added. “For those caregivers who are like, ‘you are not getting in my car.’”