Worship this morning in the cathedral of Wildwood, a nature preserve 15 minutes away. The three of us--sans K. who is in Canada on a band trip and called at 8 am to say happy mother's day, sweet girl--wandered through the woods and wetlands. It was riotous with wildflowers. Every May it's a reunion with my little friends, spring beauty, trillium, may apple, valerian and rue anemone. Greg recorded the birds, gazing skyward while I hiked eyes cast down. And K. took his water bottle and did his part watering every flower I named. Near the end of the pilgrimage, deep in the woods, I started hunting for the twin leaves that herald my favorite wildflower. And there it was, off the beaten path. Jack-in-the-pulpit. I kneeled down and kissed it's sweet blossom, as I do every year. Hello, Jack, I said. It is so good to see you again. I lingered a few moments, then got up and found the path again. Today I'm rich.