The frost hit the fiddleheads who live here. They are resilient and persevered. In 2 spots they rose next to opening mullein- several rescued from a mullein patch in the neighboring cemetery where they would be mown. I’m drawn to visit morning and evening. Sanctuary. 🙏🏼
Hi Glenn—Your pictures and note remind me of having fiddleheads sautéed in butter with a pinch or so of salt. Brown them up and eat! Too late for this year but maybe next year? Seems like you have plenty to go around.
I love the thought of them bowing to each other. I shall carry the image with me now. Thanks, Glenn.
We are accompanied.
You are so fortunate to have fiddleheads here. My 1st time was in Maine.
I love this one—your images, reflections, questions, and the poem—all speaking so clearly to this time. Thank you.
The frost hit the fiddleheads who live here. They are resilient and persevered. In 2 spots they rose next to opening mullein- several rescued from a mullein patch in the neighboring cemetery where they would be mown. I’m drawn to visit morning and evening. Sanctuary. 🙏🏼
Hi Glenn—Your pictures and note remind me of having fiddleheads sautéed in butter with a pinch or so of salt. Brown them up and eat! Too late for this year but maybe next year? Seems like you have plenty to go around.