Searching. In my mind’s eye the woods were full. In my love of the Georgia native my claim was even so. The search was on! Discover the woods full of dogwoods and capture the digital masterpiece.
I drove my stomping grounds south and west of Atlanta and saw many of the legendary trees. Beautifully adorned in snow white bracts with a rust stained cut in the edge of each petal. The golden crowns were the actual flower or flowers of the dogwood. The so called blooms are specialized leaves that protect the developing flower.
My trek took me to the boyhood home of my father and grandfather. As boys they worked the fields my Great grandfather farmed. I am told there was a red field and a grey field so named for the soils they worked. The woods have reclaimed both fields now days. Surely they are full of dogwoods. In such an idealized spot in the world dreams come true and memories are brightly painted on children’s minds. I am so thankful for those days of red and grey fields. I am thankful for those fathers that worked the land and imparted to me their hope.
As I surveyed the the wooded hills I didn’t count the dogwoods. Though far fewer than my memory painted I am sure I wouldn’t need to remove my shoes to count them all! Perhaps I may have been a little over exuberant in my claim of woods full. Accentuated with dogwoods would be a more accurate description of the spring time hills in Georgia.
My search was not in vain though. For I found more than dogwoods. More than any outward stimulus could provide. Within me it swelled. In the peace and quite of the woods ( joy ) surprised me. I was home.
jrw © 04/11/2010