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I travelled to Manhattan this past week. I spotted wild bread (and a chicken bone) as I left my hotel one night. "I'll take a photo when I get back," I said. But when I returned, all had vanished.
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I'm a little mad at myself, but I needed the reminder that much of wild bread's beauty is in its ephemeral, transitory nature.
One of the real beautiful things is that we can share this story (Its these stories that truly motivate my work and give me joy). Wild bread is indeed ephemeral but its audience seems ever-passionate. Congrats on catching a glimpse of bread in your own wild.