There’s a William Butler Yeats poem that begins, “I went out to a hazel wood,/because a fire was in my head.” Though the poem is about something else entirely, when a headache strikes, my inclination is to head outdoors.
At a nearby park, I went looking for maypops late this afternoon, knowing it was too early for them here. Then a white flower caught my eye:
A photographer with real gear had come out to see them — they’re commonly known as bloodroot — and was so disappointed to see them folding up their petals for the night. To me, lovely nonetheless.