FIDDLEHEAD FERNS - VERMONT Of ferns, the highest class of flowerless plants, there are eighty-one distinct species in Vermont. —Vermont: A Guide to the Green Mountain State (WPA, 1937)  Fiddleheads are the tightly curled fronds of a young Ostrich fern (Matteuccia struthiopteris). Ostrich ferns grow wild from northeastern North America, across Europe, and into central Asia, but the fiddlehead is especially prized as a traditional delicacy in Vermont (where harvesting is a rite of spring). Until January of this year when a bill was introduced in the legislature naming kale the state vegetable of Vermont, the fiddlehead unofficially held the title. From “Neighborhood Cooking,” published in 1993 by the East Barnard Community Club of East Barnard, Vermont, a recipe courtesy of Sabra Field: Pick fiddleheads in early May on the sandy banks of a brook. Look for last year’s dry black “plume” to locate the new growth. Once the fronds begin to uncurl, they are “gone by.” You don’t need a knife, just use your fingers. Allow to dry a few hours. Shake in a lettuce basket to loosen brown outer “wrappers” and discard. Place in cottage cooker in large saucepan. Blanch and discard water. Add more water and steam until bright green and just tender. Toss with a little butter and lemon juice. Other recommended preparations include triple blanching, then topping with cheese sauce. Under no circumstance should fiddleheads be eaten raw, as they can be quite tannic and bitter, even toxic, when undercooked. They have been known to taste like wild asparagus with the crisp texture of a slightly undercooked brussel sprout. Some people from outside the region say they taste a bit like wet dirt. * * * Tara Wray is the State Guide to Vermont. A photographer and award-winning documentary filmmaker (but mainly a mom of two-year-old identical twin sons), she is drawn to photography as a means to combat the otherwise general and fleeting nature of life. Follow her on Tumblr at Tara Wray Photography. Also, see her chapbook, “Barnard People, Vol. 1, Photographs of Vermonters.”
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FIDDLEHEAD FERNS - VERMONT Of ferns, the highest class of flowerless plants, there are eighty-one distinct species in Vermont. —Vermont: A Guide to the Green Mountain State (WPA, 1937)  Fiddleheads are the tightly curled fronds of a young Ostrich fern (Matteuccia struthiopteris). Ostrich ferns grow wild from northeastern North America, across Europe, and into central Asia, but the fiddlehead is especially prized as a traditional delicacy in Vermont (where harvesting is a rite of spring). Until January of this year when a bill was introduced in the legislature naming kale the state vegetable of Vermont, the fiddlehead unofficially held the title. From “Neighborhood Cooking,” published in 1993 by the East Barnard Community Club of East Barnard, Vermont, a recipe courtesy of Sabra Field: Pick fiddleheads in early May on the sandy banks of a brook. Look for last year’s dry black “plume” to locate the new growth. Once the fronds begin to uncurl, they are “gone by.” You don’t need a knife, just use your fingers. Allow to dry a few hours. Shake in a lettuce basket to loosen brown outer “wrappers” and discard. Place in cottage cooker in large saucepan. Blanch and discard water. Add more water and steam until bright green and just tender. Toss with a little butter and lemon juice. Other recommended preparations include triple blanching, then topping with cheese sauce. Under no circumstance should fiddleheads be eaten raw, as they can be quite tannic and bitter, even toxic, when undercooked. They have been known to taste like wild asparagus with the crisp texture of a slightly undercooked brussel sprout. Some people from outside the region say they taste a bit like wet dirt. * * * Tara Wray is the State Guide to Vermont. A photographer and award-winning documentary filmmaker (but mainly a mom of two-year-old identical twin sons), she is drawn to photography as a means to combat the otherwise general and fleeting nature of life. Follow her on Tumblr at Tara Wray Photography. Also, see her chapbook, “Barnard People, Vol. 1, Photographs of Vermonters.”
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FIDDLEHEAD FERNS - VERMONT Of ferns, the highest class of flowerless plants, there are eighty-one distinct species in Vermont. —Vermont: A Guide to the Green Mountain State (WPA, 1937)  Fiddleheads are the tightly curled fronds of a young Ostrich fern (Matteuccia struthiopteris). Ostrich ferns grow wild from northeastern North America, across Europe, and into central Asia, but the fiddlehead is especially prized as a traditional delicacy in Vermont (where harvesting is a rite of spring). Until January of this year when a bill was introduced in the legislature naming kale the state vegetable of Vermont, the fiddlehead unofficially held the title. From “Neighborhood Cooking,” published in 1993 by the East Barnard Community Club of East Barnard, Vermont, a recipe courtesy of Sabra Field: Pick fiddleheads in early May on the sandy banks of a brook. Look for last year’s dry black “plume” to locate the new growth. Once the fronds begin to uncurl, they are “gone by.” You don’t need a knife, just use your fingers. Allow to dry a few hours. Shake in a lettuce basket to loosen brown outer “wrappers” and discard. Place in cottage cooker in large saucepan. Blanch and discard water. Add more water and steam until bright green and just tender. Toss with a little butter and lemon juice. Other recommended preparations include triple blanching, then topping with cheese sauce. Under no circumstance should fiddleheads be eaten raw, as they can be quite tannic and bitter, even toxic, when undercooked. They have been known to taste like wild asparagus with the crisp texture of a slightly undercooked brussel sprout. Some people from outside the region say they taste a bit like wet dirt. * * * Tara Wray is the State Guide to Vermont. A photographer and award-winning documentary filmmaker (but mainly a mom of two-year-old identical twin sons), she is drawn to photography as a means to combat the otherwise general and fleeting nature of life. Follow her on Tumblr at Tara Wray Photography. Also, see her chapbook, “Barnard People, Vol. 1, Photographs of Vermonters.”
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FIDDLEHEAD FERNS - VERMONT Of ferns, the highest class of flowerless plants, there are eighty-one distinct species in Vermont. —Vermont: A Guide to the Green Mountain State (WPA, 1937)  Fiddleheads are the tightly curled fronds of a young Ostrich fern (Matteuccia struthiopteris). Ostrich ferns grow wild from northeastern North America, across Europe, and into central Asia, but the fiddlehead is especially prized as a traditional delicacy in Vermont (where harvesting is a rite of spring). Until January of this year when a bill was introduced in the legislature naming kale the state vegetable of Vermont, the fiddlehead unofficially held the title. From “Neighborhood Cooking,” published in 1993 by the East Barnard Community Club of East Barnard, Vermont, a recipe courtesy of Sabra Field: Pick fiddleheads in early May on the sandy banks of a brook. Look for last year’s dry black “plume” to locate the new growth. Once the fronds begin to uncurl, they are “gone by.” You don’t need a knife, just use your fingers. Allow to dry a few hours. Shake in a lettuce basket to loosen brown outer “wrappers” and discard. Place in cottage cooker in large saucepan. Blanch and discard water. Add more water and steam until bright green and just tender. Toss with a little butter and lemon juice. Other recommended preparations include triple blanching, then topping with cheese sauce. Under no circumstance should fiddleheads be eaten raw, as they can be quite tannic and bitter, even toxic, when undercooked. They have been known to taste like wild asparagus with the crisp texture of a slightly undercooked brussel sprout. Some people from outside the region say they taste a bit like wet dirt. * * * Tara Wray is the State Guide to Vermont. A photographer and award-winning documentary filmmaker (but mainly a mom of two-year-old identical twin sons), she is drawn to photography as a means to combat the otherwise general and fleeting nature of life. Follow her on Tumblr at Tara Wray Photography. Also, see her chapbook, “Barnard People, Vol. 1, Photographs of Vermonters.”
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FIDDLEHEAD FERNS - VERMONT Of ferns, the highest class of flowerless plants, there are eighty-one distinct species in Vermont. —Vermont: A Guide to the Green Mountain State (WPA, 1937)  Fiddleheads are the tightly curled fronds of a young Ostrich fern (Matteuccia struthiopteris). Ostrich ferns grow wild from northeastern North America, across Europe, and into central Asia, but the fiddlehead is especially prized as a traditional delicacy in Vermont (where harvesting is a rite of spring). Until January of this year when a bill was introduced in the legislature naming kale the state vegetable of Vermont, the fiddlehead unofficially held the title. From “Neighborhood Cooking,” published in 1993 by the East Barnard Community Club of East Barnard, Vermont, a recipe courtesy of Sabra Field: Pick fiddleheads in early May on the sandy banks of a brook. Look for last year’s dry black “plume” to locate the new growth. Once the fronds begin to uncurl, they are “gone by.” You don’t need a knife, just use your fingers. Allow to dry a few hours. Shake in a lettuce basket to loosen brown outer “wrappers” and discard. Place in cottage cooker in large saucepan. Blanch and discard water. Add more water and steam until bright green and just tender. Toss with a little butter and lemon juice. Other recommended preparations include triple blanching, then topping with cheese sauce. Under no circumstance should fiddleheads be eaten raw, as they can be quite tannic and bitter, even toxic, when undercooked. They have been known to taste like wild asparagus with the crisp texture of a slightly undercooked brussel sprout. Some people from outside the region say they taste a bit like wet dirt. * * * Tara Wray is the State Guide to Vermont. A photographer and award-winning documentary filmmaker (but mainly a mom of two-year-old identical twin sons), she is drawn to photography as a means to combat the otherwise general and fleeting nature of life. Follow her on Tumblr at Tara Wray Photography. Also, see her chapbook, “Barnard People, Vol. 1, Photographs of Vermonters.”
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FIDDLEHEAD FERNS - VERMONT Of ferns, the highest class of flowerless plants, there are eighty-one distinct species in Vermont. —Vermont: A Guide to the Green Mountain State (WPA, 1937)  Fiddleheads are the tightly curled fronds of a young Ostrich fern (Matteuccia struthiopteris). Ostrich ferns grow wild from northeastern North America, across Europe, and into central Asia, but the fiddlehead is especially prized as a traditional delicacy in Vermont (where harvesting is a rite of spring). Until January of this year when a bill was introduced in the legislature naming kale the state vegetable of Vermont, the fiddlehead unofficially held the title. From “Neighborhood Cooking,” published in 1993 by the East Barnard Community Club of East Barnard, Vermont, a recipe courtesy of Sabra Field: Pick fiddleheads in early May on the sandy banks of a brook. Look for last year’s dry black “plume” to locate the new growth. Once the fronds begin to uncurl, they are “gone by.” You don’t need a knife, just use your fingers. Allow to dry a few hours. Shake in a lettuce basket to loosen brown outer “wrappers” and discard. Place in cottage cooker in large saucepan. Blanch and discard water. Add more water and steam until bright green and just tender. Toss with a little butter and lemon juice. Other recommended preparations include triple blanching, then topping with cheese sauce. Under no circumstance should fiddleheads be eaten raw, as they can be quite tannic and bitter, even toxic, when undercooked. They have been known to taste like wild asparagus with the crisp texture of a slightly undercooked brussel sprout. Some people from outside the region say they taste a bit like wet dirt. * * * Tara Wray is the State Guide to Vermont. A photographer and award-winning documentary filmmaker (but mainly a mom of two-year-old identical twin sons), she is drawn to photography as a means to combat the otherwise general and fleeting nature of life. Follow her on Tumblr at Tara Wray Photography. Also, see her chapbook, “Barnard People, Vol. 1, Photographs of Vermonters.”
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FIDDLEHEAD FERNS - VERMONT Of ferns, the highest class of flowerless plants, there are eighty-one distinct species in Vermont. —Vermont: A Guide to the Green Mountain State (WPA, 1937)  Fiddleheads are the tightly curled fronds of a young Ostrich fern (Matteuccia struthiopteris). Ostrich ferns grow wild from northeastern North America, across Europe, and into central Asia, but the fiddlehead is especially prized as a traditional delicacy in Vermont (where harvesting is a rite of spring). Until January of this year when a bill was introduced in the legislature naming kale the state vegetable of Vermont, the fiddlehead unofficially held the title. From “Neighborhood Cooking,” published in 1993 by the East Barnard Community Club of East Barnard, Vermont, a recipe courtesy of Sabra Field: Pick fiddleheads in early May on the sandy banks of a brook. Look for last year’s dry black “plume” to locate the new growth. Once the fronds begin to uncurl, they are “gone by.” You don’t need a knife, just use your fingers. Allow to dry a few hours. Shake in a lettuce basket to loosen brown outer “wrappers” and discard. Place in cottage cooker in large saucepan. Blanch and discard water. Add more water and steam until bright green and just tender. Toss with a little butter and lemon juice. Other recommended preparations include triple blanching, then topping with cheese sauce. Under no circumstance should fiddleheads be eaten raw, as they can be quite tannic and bitter, even toxic, when undercooked. They have been known to taste like wild asparagus with the crisp texture of a slightly undercooked brussel sprout. Some people from outside the region say they taste a bit like wet dirt. * * * Tara Wray is the State Guide to Vermont. A photographer and award-winning documentary filmmaker (but mainly a mom of two-year-old identical twin sons), she is drawn to photography as a means to combat the otherwise general and fleeting nature of life. Follow her on Tumblr at Tara Wray Photography. Also, see her chapbook, “Barnard People, Vol. 1, Photographs of Vermonters.”
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FIDDLEHEAD FERNS - VERMONT Of ferns, the highest class of flowerless plants, there are eighty-one distinct species in Vermont. —Vermont: A Guide to the Green Mountain State (WPA, 1937)  Fiddleheads are the tightly curled fronds of a young Ostrich fern (Matteuccia struthiopteris). Ostrich ferns grow wild from northeastern North America, across Europe, and into central Asia, but the fiddlehead is especially prized as a traditional delicacy in Vermont (where harvesting is a rite of spring). Until January of this year when a bill was introduced in the legislature naming kale the state vegetable of Vermont, the fiddlehead unofficially held the title. From “Neighborhood Cooking,” published in 1993 by the East Barnard Community Club of East Barnard, Vermont, a recipe courtesy of Sabra Field: Pick fiddleheads in early May on the sandy banks of a brook. Look for last year’s dry black “plume” to locate the new growth. Once the fronds begin to uncurl, they are “gone by.” You don’t need a knife, just use your fingers. Allow to dry a few hours. Shake in a lettuce basket to loosen brown outer “wrappers” and discard. Place in cottage cooker in large saucepan. Blanch and discard water. Add more water and steam until bright green and just tender. Toss with a little butter and lemon juice. Other recommended preparations include triple blanching, then topping with cheese sauce. Under no circumstance should fiddleheads be eaten raw, as they can be quite tannic and bitter, even toxic, when undercooked. They have been known to taste like wild asparagus with the crisp texture of a slightly undercooked brussel sprout. Some people from outside the region say they taste a bit like wet dirt. * * * Tara Wray is the State Guide to Vermont. A photographer and award-winning documentary filmmaker (but mainly a mom of two-year-old identical twin sons), she is drawn to photography as a means to combat the otherwise general and fleeting nature of life. Follow her on Tumblr at Tara Wray Photography. Also, see her chapbook, “Barnard People, Vol. 1, Photographs of Vermonters.”
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FIDDLEHEAD FERNS - VERMONT

Of ferns, the highest class of flowerless plants, there are eighty-one distinct species in Vermont.

—Vermont: A Guide to the Green Mountain State (WPA, 1937) 

Fiddleheads are the tightly curled fronds of a young Ostrich fern (Matteuccia struthiopteris). Ostrich ferns grow wild from northeastern North America, across Europe, and into central Asia, but the fiddlehead is especially prized as a traditional delicacy in Vermont (where harvesting is a rite of spring). Until January of this year when a bill was introduced in the legislature naming kale the state vegetable of Vermont, the fiddlehead unofficially held the title.

From “Neighborhood Cooking,” published in 1993 by the East Barnard Community Club of East Barnard, Vermont, a recipe courtesy of Sabra Field:

Pick fiddleheads in early May on the sandy banks of a brook. Look for last year’s dry black “plume” to locate the new growth. Once the fronds begin to uncurl, they are “gone by.” You don’t need a knife, just use your fingers. Allow to dry a few hours. Shake in a lettuce basket to loosen brown outer “wrappers” and discard. Place in cottage cooker in large saucepan. Blanch and discard water. Add more water and steam until bright green and just tender. Toss with a little butter and lemon juice.

Other recommended preparations include triple blanching, then topping with cheese sauce. Under no circumstance should fiddleheads be eaten raw, as they can be quite tannic and bitter, even toxic, when undercooked.

They have been known to taste like wild asparagus with the crisp texture of a slightly undercooked brussel sprout. Some people from outside the region say they taste a bit like wet dirt.

* * *

Tara Wray is the State Guide to Vermont. A photographer and award-winning documentary filmmaker (but mainly a mom of two-year-old identical twin sons), she is drawn to photography as a means to combat the otherwise general and fleeting nature of life. Follow her on Tumblr at Tara Wray Photography. Also, see her chapbook, “Barnard People, Vol. 1, Photographs of Vermonters.”

RÍO GRANDE DEL NORTE NATIONAL MONUMENT, NEW MEXICO Yucca, cactus, locoweed, vetch, wild gourd vines, purple verbena, bee balm, aster, chamiso and other wild flowers, including mallow and flowering grasses, give beauty to the foreground, while the hills and mountains in the distance make for greater loveliness, with sky and piling clouds over all. — New Mexico, A Guide To the Colorful State (WPA, 1940) On March 25, 2013, President Obama signed proclamations establishing five new national monuments, including two administered by the Bureau of Land Management:  the San Juan Islands National Monument in Washington and the Río Grande del Norte National Monument in New Mexico. The Río Grande del Norte National Monument includes ecosystems and vegetation that exhibit significant diversity. A large expanse of the monument encompasses a big-game corridor stretching between the San Juan Mountains in the west and the Sangre de Cristo Mountains in the east. The Río Grande provides habitat for fish such as the flathead chub and the Río Grande Cutthroat Trout, as well as for waterfowl, including ducks, geese, and coots. Learn more about one of our newest monuments:  http://blm.gov/c2kd * * * MyPublicLands is the official Tumblr of the Bureau of Land Management. Follow the next generation of BLMers as they share their experiences on the public lands. You can find them at mypubliclands.tumblr.com.
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RÍO GRANDE DEL NORTE NATIONAL MONUMENT, NEW MEXICO

Yucca, cactus, locoweed, vetch, wild gourd vines, purple verbena, bee balm, aster, chamiso and other wild flowers, including mallow and flowering grasses, give beauty to the foreground, while the hills and mountains in the distance make for greater loveliness, with sky and piling clouds over all.

— New Mexico, A Guide To the Colorful State (WPA, 1940)

On March 25, 2013, President Obama signed proclamations establishing five new national monuments, including two administered by the Bureau of Land Management:  the San Juan Islands National Monument in Washington and the Río Grande del Norte National Monument in New Mexico.

The Río Grande del Norte National Monument includes ecosystems and vegetation that exhibit significant diversity. A large expanse of the monument encompasses a big-game corridor stretching between the San Juan Mountains in the west and the Sangre de Cristo Mountains in the east. The Río Grande provides habitat for fish such as the flathead chub and the Río Grande Cutthroat Trout, as well as for waterfowl, including ducks, geese, and coots.

Learn more about one of our newest monuments:  http://blm.gov/c2kd

* * *

MyPublicLands is the official Tumblr of the Bureau of Land Management. Follow the next generation of BLMers as they share their experiences on the public lands. You can find them at mypubliclands.tumblr.com.

NEW GULF WILDS Along Mississippi’s coastal highway 90, where over seven years ago the Gulf of Mexico rose up and wrecked almost everything in its path, there are pockets where nature is making a bigger comeback than civilization. Gardens have reseeded themselves in the foundations of home sites. Crepe myrtles, palms, lilies, vines and wildflowers volunteer among the ruins of once thriving neighborhoods. Marsh flora colonizes abandoned swimming pools. Thickets envelop tennis and basketball courts. It is a beautiful display of nature running wild, despite the bleakness of slow recovery.   * * * Missy Prince is a Guide to the states of Mississippi and Oregon. She grew up in Mississippi but now calls Oregon home. She loves her Oregon, Washington, and Mississippi Gazetteer atlases and aims to visit every square mile they chart. When she is not out exploring with a camera she is dreaming of the highways, roads, and trails in her future. Follow her on Flickr and Tumblr at Sea of Empties.
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NEW GULF WILDS Along Mississippi’s coastal highway 90, where over seven years ago the Gulf of Mexico rose up and wrecked almost everything in its path, there are pockets where nature is making a bigger comeback than civilization. Gardens have reseeded themselves in the foundations of home sites. Crepe myrtles, palms, lilies, vines and wildflowers volunteer among the ruins of once thriving neighborhoods. Marsh flora colonizes abandoned swimming pools. Thickets envelop tennis and basketball courts. It is a beautiful display of nature running wild, despite the bleakness of slow recovery.   * * * Missy Prince is a Guide to the states of Mississippi and Oregon. She grew up in Mississippi but now calls Oregon home. She loves her Oregon, Washington, and Mississippi Gazetteer atlases and aims to visit every square mile they chart. When she is not out exploring with a camera she is dreaming of the highways, roads, and trails in her future. Follow her on Flickr and Tumblr at Sea of Empties.
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NEW GULF WILDS Along Mississippi’s coastal highway 90, where over seven years ago the Gulf of Mexico rose up and wrecked almost everything in its path, there are pockets where nature is making a bigger comeback than civilization. Gardens have reseeded themselves in the foundations of home sites. Crepe myrtles, palms, lilies, vines and wildflowers volunteer among the ruins of once thriving neighborhoods. Marsh flora colonizes abandoned swimming pools. Thickets envelop tennis and basketball courts. It is a beautiful display of nature running wild, despite the bleakness of slow recovery.   * * * Missy Prince is a Guide to the states of Mississippi and Oregon. She grew up in Mississippi but now calls Oregon home. She loves her Oregon, Washington, and Mississippi Gazetteer atlases and aims to visit every square mile they chart. When she is not out exploring with a camera she is dreaming of the highways, roads, and trails in her future. Follow her on Flickr and Tumblr at Sea of Empties.
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NEW GULF WILDS Along Mississippi’s coastal highway 90, where over seven years ago the Gulf of Mexico rose up and wrecked almost everything in its path, there are pockets where nature is making a bigger comeback than civilization. Gardens have reseeded themselves in the foundations of home sites. Crepe myrtles, palms, lilies, vines and wildflowers volunteer among the ruins of once thriving neighborhoods. Marsh flora colonizes abandoned swimming pools. Thickets envelop tennis and basketball courts. It is a beautiful display of nature running wild, despite the bleakness of slow recovery.   * * * Missy Prince is a Guide to the states of Mississippi and Oregon. She grew up in Mississippi but now calls Oregon home. She loves her Oregon, Washington, and Mississippi Gazetteer atlases and aims to visit every square mile they chart. When she is not out exploring with a camera she is dreaming of the highways, roads, and trails in her future. Follow her on Flickr and Tumblr at Sea of Empties.
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NEW GULF WILDS Along Mississippi’s coastal highway 90, where over seven years ago the Gulf of Mexico rose up and wrecked almost everything in its path, there are pockets where nature is making a bigger comeback than civilization. Gardens have reseeded themselves in the foundations of home sites. Crepe myrtles, palms, lilies, vines and wildflowers volunteer among the ruins of once thriving neighborhoods. Marsh flora colonizes abandoned swimming pools. Thickets envelop tennis and basketball courts. It is a beautiful display of nature running wild, despite the bleakness of slow recovery.   * * * Missy Prince is a Guide to the states of Mississippi and Oregon. She grew up in Mississippi but now calls Oregon home. She loves her Oregon, Washington, and Mississippi Gazetteer atlases and aims to visit every square mile they chart. When she is not out exploring with a camera she is dreaming of the highways, roads, and trails in her future. Follow her on Flickr and Tumblr at Sea of Empties.
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NEW GULF WILDS Along Mississippi’s coastal highway 90, where over seven years ago the Gulf of Mexico rose up and wrecked almost everything in its path, there are pockets where nature is making a bigger comeback than civilization. Gardens have reseeded themselves in the foundations of home sites. Crepe myrtles, palms, lilies, vines and wildflowers volunteer among the ruins of once thriving neighborhoods. Marsh flora colonizes abandoned swimming pools. Thickets envelop tennis and basketball courts. It is a beautiful display of nature running wild, despite the bleakness of slow recovery.   * * * Missy Prince is a Guide to the states of Mississippi and Oregon. She grew up in Mississippi but now calls Oregon home. She loves her Oregon, Washington, and Mississippi Gazetteer atlases and aims to visit every square mile they chart. When she is not out exploring with a camera she is dreaming of the highways, roads, and trails in her future. Follow her on Flickr and Tumblr at Sea of Empties.
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NEW GULF WILDS Along Mississippi’s coastal highway 90, where over seven years ago the Gulf of Mexico rose up and wrecked almost everything in its path, there are pockets where nature is making a bigger comeback than civilization. Gardens have reseeded themselves in the foundations of home sites. Crepe myrtles, palms, lilies, vines and wildflowers volunteer among the ruins of once thriving neighborhoods. Marsh flora colonizes abandoned swimming pools. Thickets envelop tennis and basketball courts. It is a beautiful display of nature running wild, despite the bleakness of slow recovery.   * * * Missy Prince is a Guide to the states of Mississippi and Oregon. She grew up in Mississippi but now calls Oregon home. She loves her Oregon, Washington, and Mississippi Gazetteer atlases and aims to visit every square mile they chart. When she is not out exploring with a camera she is dreaming of the highways, roads, and trails in her future. Follow her on Flickr and Tumblr at Sea of Empties.
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NEW GULF WILDS

Along Mississippi’s coastal highway 90, where over seven years ago the Gulf of Mexico rose up and wrecked almost everything in its path, there are pockets where nature is making a bigger comeback than civilization. Gardens have reseeded themselves in the foundations of home sites. Crepe myrtles, palms, lilies, vines and wildflowers volunteer among the ruins of once thriving neighborhoods. Marsh flora colonizes abandoned swimming pools. Thickets envelop tennis and basketball courts. It is a beautiful display of nature running wild, despite the bleakness of slow recovery.  

* * *

Missy Prince is a Guide to the states of Mississippi and Oregon. She grew up in Mississippi but now calls Oregon home. She loves her Oregon, Washington, and Mississippi Gazetteer atlases and aims to visit every square mile they chart. When she is not out exploring with a camera she is dreaming of the highways, roads, and trails in her future. Follow her on Flickr and Tumblr at Sea of Empties.