This past weekend, my girlfriend and I spent the afternoon at Wilderness Park. It’s a massive stretch of trails and forest just 30 minutes from home. We went in with a plan to forage for nettles, something we’d been curious about for a while. We packed gloves, took our time, and made a point to hike deeper into the park, away from the more trafficked paths.
The idea wasn’t just to find ingredients. It was to be present. We moved slowly, paid attention, and made sure not to overharvest. Just a few leaves here and there, always leaving plenty behind. There’s something grounding about that kind of care. Visitors are asked to avoid disturbing plant and animal life, and that really shaped our approach. We wanted to participate in the space, not take from it.
At one point, two deer crossed the trail ahead of us. I’ve only ever seen deer from a car window before, so this was the first time I really saw them. Their tails were so white it almost looked unreal, like someone had painted them. They paused, looked at us, then walked off calmly into the trees. That moment felt like a gift.
Wilderness Park lives up to its name. Even though it’s just outside the city, it feels far from it. The trails wind through quiet woods and open up to small clearings and bridges. The sound of birds, the wind through the trees, and even the muddy trail underfoot made it feel like we were truly outside. It made me think about how, just a few hundred years ago, everything around us looked like this.
Back at home, we boiled the nettles (a necessary step, trust me), added lemon, and baked a cake. It came out with an unexpected mix of earthiness and brightness. I wouldn’t have thought to put those flavors together, but it worked.
It’s kind of wild what a single afternoon can hold. A short drive, a walk through the woods, a small harvest, and something warm to share at the end of it. No big trip. Just the desire to get outside.
Until next time,
Carlos
