Much of our side of the island burned at the beginning of the last century, and we are left with quite a large number of enormous blackened shells of the old-growth cedar that once stood all over this area. (Much of it was logged.) These black, spiky towers stand like ghosts among the trees, sometimes inhabited by animals, and temporarily by children. They make great forts, as long as they're safe.
We stopped by one of the largest groups of cedar shells on the way home from the community school, today, and the kids had a bit of a play. As he ran up to them, Tal shouted: "This is a monument, you know!!"