It’s a nightly showdown at the dinner table in my house. The theme song from “The Good, The Bad and The Ugly,” playing in my head as I take my 10 paces from the kitchen to the table then sling Goose’s parceled out green plastic plate with the congenial grilled cheese cut in a required geometric shape and three edamame beans on it in front of her.

I hold my breath in the hope the little beans blend into the plate and somehow look less offensive. But before I can even defend myself, Goose reaches into her holster and retrieves her fork using it to shove her plate away.

“I don’t eat edamame or grilled cheese that has touched edamame,” she fires.

I stumble backwards. I’m hit. I almost expect tumble weeds to blow across the kitchen floor as I turn back, head held low, my spurs jangling as I walk away defeated. I wish Clint Eastwood would show up and say something iconic like, “There’s two kinds of people in this world, my friend, people who cook vegetables and people who eat them; you eat them.”

But alas, even a spaghetti western star wouldn’t be able to get her to eat pasta with sauce, because there are freaking tomatoes in spaghetti sauce!

Vegetables get little more than lip service in my house. Experts without picky eaters write books about how the rest of us should handle our own picky eaters. Have I “offered her the same vegetable 10 times,” they ask? I want to scream from the roof, shaking a colander in my fist, “Yes, I’ve offered it 10 million times.”

Was Goose born hating vegetables, or did I make her this way? It’s the great nature vs. nurture debate, originating in the produce drawer of my refrigerator. I’ve tried the nurturing approach by being a short order cook, commiserating with her that she’s right, broccoli does suck, as I shove the perfectly steamed bundles of vitamin C down the garbage disposal. I’ve tried trickery, bribery, and everything short of double stuffing Oreos with cauliflower cream, and none of it has worked. Goose has not willingly ingested a vegetable in well, her entire life! Nurturing her veggie phobia was not working. So I figured it was time to try the nature approach to vegetables.

We loaded our day packs and headed about 30 minutes north of Durango to Potato Lake, the vegetable promised land. In the hopes a little time hiking on Potato Trail and swimming in Potato Lake, picnicking with potato chips in the shadow of the great Potato Mountain would make vegetables somehow fun, less threatening and, well, ultimately maybe, just maybe, Goose would eat one.

Potato Lake, also referred to as Spud Lake, and the trail to reach it is a family friendly hike offering hikers a relatively easy two-mile round trip excursion. The trail continues around the perimeter of the lake for an additional ½-mile for those hikers who want to make the full loop. Arriving at the lake, hikers are greeted by a sandy beach perfect for swimming, plenty of spots to have a (vegetable free) picnic lunch, wildlife watch and decent fishing opportunities for small trout.

To reach Potato Lake, take US 550 North from Durango and travel 30 miles to Old Lime Creek road. Turn Right and drive the remaining three miles to the trailhead. Be prepared with a high clearance four-wheel drive vehicle, as Lime Creek is extremely rocky much of the way.

The trailhead is marked with a parking area opposite a lilly pad clogged beaver pond. This is a toddler friendly hike with minimal elevation gain and has something to offer both children and adults alike.In the fall, the colors along the trail are spectacular, the air is as crisp as the leaves that crunch underneath your feet, and there is plenty of wildlife to view along the way.

Goose and I watched a beaver splashing around, were lucky enough to see a fox, a hawk and took note of squirrels gathering acorns. Goose took mostly note that even they don’t have to eat vegetables.

There are a few items to help make hiking with toddlers more enjoyable for both you and them: bring plenty of water, snacks, snacks and more snacks, sunscreen and a hat.

At nearly 4, Goose is old enough to carry her own small pack, and I fill it with some child friendly binoculars, water, trail mix, a notebook and crayon, a wildlife identification chart, a play camera and, most importantl,y a whistle attached to a zipper that she knows is not a toy and is to be blown in case she is lost. The rule in my house is if you blow the whistle and you are not lost, you’ve blown it and no hikes until you learn the forest is no place to cry wolf.

So did Goose actually eat a vegetable? No. Will she ever? Maybe. But she had a beautiful hike, and that nourished her soul, which ultimately feeds her wild spirit I love so much. That type of sustenance is something only nature can provide, reminding me we all need both Mother Nature and a mother to nurture.

Hiking to Potato Lake and watching Goose’s sense of wonderment and spirit thrive in the brisk air just went to prove to me that being outdoors is as important as being at the table. Will she survive on plain pasta and apple slices cut just right? Yes. So, I’ve decided to hang up my spurs, and she’s holstered her fork. I’ll just have to supplement her lack of veggies with plenty of Vitamin D from hiking in the sunlight to Potato Lake.

Jenny can be reached at Jennyandgooseoutdoors@outlook.com