In the Woods

Jack in the Pulpits. Don't they look like desperate little birds waiting to be fed?

My youngest little bird, Gordon.

Sylvia Plath has a great poem about these. It goes like this:

Overnight, very 
Whitely, discreetly, 
Very quietly 

Our toes, our noses 
Take hold on the loam, 
Acquire the air. 

Nobody sees us, 
Stops us, betrays us; 
The small grains make room. 

Soft fists insist on 
Heaving the needles, 
The leafy bedding, 

Even the paving. 
Our hammers, our rams, 
Earless and eyeless, 

Perfectly voiceless, 
Widen the crannies, 
Shoulder through holes. We 

Diet on water, 
On crumbs of shadow, 
Bland-mannered, asking 

Little or nothing. 
So many of us! 
So many of us! 

We are shelves, we are 
Tables, we are meek, 
We are edible, 

Nudgers and shovers 
In spite of ourselves. 
Our kind multiplies: 

We shall by morning 
Inherit the earth. 
Our foot's in the door.

And this one just looked so come-hither.

Boy, we found a lot of some turkey's feathers. 

Don't know what kind of tree this is. The seed pod is a little bit like the Honey Locust. There were only two of these trees in the woods. Their trunks are below....

The bark of this tree is lacy like this. Someone help a wanna-be know-it-all out. 

After careful scrutiny, not a tick was found on these children, in case you were wondering. We did have a brush with itch weed, both mom and daughter. 

We found a lot of these snail shells. 

I've been looking for these guys for a week. 

Tomorrow, i am thinking walleye and morels....