the secret woods

We sallied forth into the woods yesterday to gather wild leeks.
Not any woods will do. You must find a middleman; someone who knows someone who knows.

The late afternoon sun dappled the mulchy forest floor, lighting up the verdant carpets of leeks as far as the eye could see.

We brought shovels and buckets. And Phillip, of course. He was our ticket into leek-heaven.

Here, we hit pay-dirt.
-and I really mean pay-dirt.

While the kids were playing with shovels and getting their hands dirty, I went walkabout. Not much was blooming yet, except plenty of these tiny purple and pink flowers.

The trillium were hiding their shy heads. They need a little more coaxing before showing their regal beauty.

Back at the excavation site, a different kind of pink was being unearthed.
-and I really mean unearthed.

These fragrant bundles of garlicky joy were tucked into buckets for transport.

Someone around here is gonna have some serious halitosis.

It's hard to imagine sweet, happy faces like these harboring breath that will knock over a mule at fifty paces. But that's a common occurrence with leek-lovers.

They carry breath mints to no avail.

They trudged homeward with brimming buckets 'o leeks, exhilarated by the adrenaline of the hunt. I foresee a yearly tradition in the making.

Don't you?