I went out to Wilderstead today. I finished mending the last corner of the fencing. Then I unlimbered my chain saw and cleared some dead limbs that were blocking creek and path.
We have lots of Indian turnips in the holler. That's Jack-in-the-pulpits to some of you. They have the hottest
roots of anything you've ever eaten. That's because their heat is not due to the resin in peppers; tiny needles of calcium oxylate pierce your lips, tongue, and gums, and burn like the devil. Nor does eating or drinking anything help; the crystals must simply dissolve. I also photographed a beautiful dogwood on the upper slopes of Woods Ridge.
Add to that what C.S. Lewis would call a "soaking machine" -- a place to sit and fully absorb the atmosphere of a place. I believe that every boy needs a place to go that is his own place: a place of the spirit where he can go to play at first; later it will be where he goes to pray as well. I have that again now at Wilderstead.
Click on a pic to enlarge.
Also known as Jack-in-the-Pulpit. Just beginning to open up.
It's the end of April, late for dogwoods, but caught this one shining in the sun this afternoon.
A natural seat, ideal for contemplation, overhangs Pishon Creek.