Stewardship Doesn't Start With a Shovel. It Starts With Belonging.

Several years ago, I had the opportunity to help lead what became the largest World Cleanup Day event in Canada and a community-driven initiative that brought together residents, organizations, educators, students, and local leaders to take action for the place we all call home.

What began as an idea quickly grew into a movement through collaboration with JCI Kootenay, Columbia Outdoor School, the College of the Rockies, the City of Cranbrook, BC Hydro, local businesses, community members, and youth leaders from ʔaq̓am’s Guardians in Training program.

Together, we restored sections of Joseph Creek through litter cleanup, riparian planting, and community education.

But the most meaningful part of the project was not measured by the number of volunteers, bags of garbage collected, or trees planted. It was measured by connection.

The goal was never simply to clean up a creek for a single day. The goal was to help people see Joseph Creek differently—not as something that runs through the city, but as a living system connected to water, wildlife, community history, and our shared future.

Because stewardship doesn't begin with a shovel.

It begins when people feel a relationship with place.

Bringing together community members, post-secondary students, municipal leaders, and youth from ʔaq̓am created an opportunity for different generations and perspectives to learn alongside one another. The Guardians in Training participants brought their lived experiences, cultural knowledge, and connection to the land into the work, helping demonstrate that environmental stewardship is strengthened when diverse voices are not only included, but recognized as leaders.

That philosophy continued to guide my work in developing outdoor education programs that connect people to place.

When restoration work expanded into Idlewild Park, I saw an opportunity to move beyond a one-day volunteer event and create a lasting stewardship model. I designed curriculum that connected every student in Cranbrook to the riparian restoration project, providing teachers and students with learning opportunities before and after their planting experience.

Students were not simply learning how to plant trees, they were learning why those plants mattered.

Moreover, they were understanding the role riparian ecosystems play in protecting biodiversity, water quality, and community resilience. Most importantly, they were becoming stewards.

When a student can return years later and recognize the plant they helped put into the ground, restoration becomes personal. The landscape is no longer just a place they visit—it becomes a place they helped care for.

This is the foundation of meaningful engagement: creating opportunities for people to move from awareness, to connection, to action.

Whether working with communities, educators, youth, Indigenous partners, or environmental organizations, I believe the most powerful stories are the ones where people can see themselves as part of the solution.

Because lasting environmental change does not happen when people are simply informed.

It happens when people belong.