Crazy People

Sylvia and Dennis and young Sonya were among the 10 of us treasure-hunting in the woods one day during this nice rainy May, finding in two hours more than 30 species of fungi where at first we didn't see any at all, because most specimens were tiny and the big flagrant diva mushrooms, such as chickens, or milkies (they "bleed" milklike liquid), are about three weeks away. Among our finds: Sonya has found a Stalked Scarlet Cup (Sarcoscypha occidentalis), and (below) the 1/2-inch "eyelash cup" (Scutellinia scutellata), yellow with unmistakeable "eyelashes," which I have greatly enlarged for detail. For edibles, on this trip we found only wood ears. We think that fungi, the fourth Kingdom of creation, are the coolest, most outrageous stuff our earth produces--in my view, second only to the mineral Kingdom's gemstones. Guess we're easy to please. You'll notice we (as do Sylvia and Dennis) carry woven baskets and within them waxed sandwich bags to hold their specimens. Crazy people and woven baskets traditionally go together. You can always tell shroomers by our baskets and our socks pulled up over our pant legs.

Free Gold

Took this on October 21 when the Divine Woods were golden through and through, bright as sunshine, leaves quietly falling, and when blended with the beautiful blue October sky and warm weather -- intoxicating!

Then I went away for a few days and returned hoping for more golden woods time, only to find that a storm had stripped most of the leaves, and I was surprised, even disoriented, to see only the white unfiltered sunshine typical of November. At least I got this photo for us.

What's different this year: Usually reluctant to let go of summer, I welcome the autumn and do not dread the winter, when life gets harder: the cabin's logs hold and radiate cold; can't sit out on the porch; the car skids; the skin gets dry. It's life and I'll take it.

Everywhere, Endless, and Changing

I want so much to share the beauty I see, living out here--daily, my cup overflows. In the city, I got beauty at the museum or in individual plants or trees, and only in glimpses, so I moved and I stay so I can feast on the beauty that is everywhere and endless and changing. On my gravestone please write, "She loved beauty."  Or maybe this, from a North Country British gravestone:

The wonder of the world,
The beauty and the power,
The shapes of things,
Their colours, lights and shades,
These I saw.
Look ye also while life lasts.

(That wasn't written by a Londoner.)

Woke early this late August morning with a head cold returned in full force (darn, but that's life; I'll take it) and peeked outside and the sun was just rising, but I saw turkeys at the meadow's edge, and although it's not a bird-book picture of a turkey, the above photo is what I actually saw. And loved it.

Berry Lust

Picked a bowlful of wild blackberries today for the first time this summer from the thousands of blackberry briars in the meadow. One ripe shiny juicy blue-black one leads to another,  bigger, sweeter, riper -- berry lust fills me...the more I see, the more I want. Thorns rip my skin and clothes; mosquitoes halo me, poison ivy leaves molest me; but there the berries are for the taking! Irresistible! Divine! Enjoy thinking of the thousands who have done this before me through all time, happy to see sweet berries, picking the finest ripest ones to feed their families.

Love them in cornflakes and milk. Love baking berry scones (pictured) with blackberries just picked and warm from the sun. What berry-picking teaches: 1) Wait until it's ripe. It's no good until it's ripe. 2) You can't have it all. You can only have some. 3) Live in the now. 4) The free things in life are best.

Is This Buck Legal?

How to survive if lost in the woods: Build a fire using your waterproof matches or a cotton ball smeared with Vaseline; fire your gun three times after hunting hours; and hope you left a hunting plan and a stamp of your bootsole on foil beneath your car's window wipers. Stay where you are; find or build a shelter for the night; know that you can live for 14 days without eating but only 3 days without water; and no Missouri stream is clean enough to drink straight up. How to hunt turkeys in season (April and November): Don't wear red, white, blue or black, turkey colors; keep your back against a thick tree or rock; don't make too loud of a turkey call; don't shoot roosting turkeys (it's not fair); aim at their heads; put the turkey that just bought the big casino into a hunter's-orange bag, tucking the wings in so no other turkey hunter imagines it's a live one. . .some of the many tips from Missouri's ten-hour hunter's education course. Free to all students 11 and older thanks to Missouri's one-eighth-of-one-cent sales tax that funds our marvelous state parks, conservation areas, shooting ranges and programs. A husband-and-wife team taught us how a muzzle loader works, how to track game, I.D. six kinds of firearm actions, and the six ways to carry long guns safely on the hunt. Much emphasis on safety. A million Missouri hunters have taken this course, reducing the average number of fatal hunting "incidents" from 20 per year to 4. I passed the 50-question written test, earned the coveted orange patch and now with this credential maybe with my squirty little .410 I can tag along with friends who hunt birds at Marais Temps Clair. I've never hunted. My father did, sometimes. He certainly wouldn't have taken a female along.

My coveted patch, earned 3/22/12

Our first speaker, though, was a young former hunter who accidentally killed his best friend's father--involuntary manslaughter normally avenged by eight years in the pen. He got five years' probation and cannot own a firearm or hunt. The best friend and his family withdrew their friendship, which he understands, he said. As the speaker left the front of the room, one man, with great simple American manly grace stood up, took the young man's hand, and said, "I'm sorry, brother."

Why'd I take this course, mandatory only for hunters born after 1966? Because this is the environment I live in and the people I meet.

The Ankle Holster

For my birthday I got an Extreme Survival ankle holster. (Yes, I have a CCW license.) Before you panic, know that it is not unusual at all here to conceal and carry. I'm petite, and no conceal contraption, whether it be belly band, shoulder holster, bra holster or tactical T-shirt is able to conceal a firearm, even a tiny one, on my person, and obviously this one would show "profile" through my pant leg, but it's only for driving alone in dark or weird places. The holster is leather with shearling wool inside the leg. The rest is Velcro and the firearm is strapped in real good and tight, but can be freed with one serious yank, such as one would give it in an emergency. The object, though, of having a personal firearm is never having to use it, except on the practice range. Ask anyone who lives here.

Three Cheers for the Red

Crocheted tire cover photographed in the Wal-Mart parking lot in Eureka, MO. Don't that beat all. It's beautiful, too.

Deer Teeth

Found this back in my woods; it's a deer's jaw. Much bigger and sharper teeth than I thought. Of course they eat a lot more raw greenery than humans do. Left it where it was.

Cloudburst

On an August afternoon, when it'd been over 90 degrees every day for a solid month, and was pushing 100, it rained for a solid fifteen minutes, then it rained for another fifteen minutes, hard, with the sun shining. Dodging the huge raindrops I ran outside seeking a rainbow, but didn't see any. But from my porch, where I and the camera could stay dry, I saw my birdbath and bird feeder bathed in sun and rain.

Which Twin Has the Toni?

OK -- raking an acre of "lawn" -- if you can call clumps of weeds, cedar-tree sprouts, and mole holes a lawn -- is a big job -- especially because I didn't do it last year. Raking the the leaves (oak and hickory) into a pile, I then very cleverly sweep them onto an old shower curtain and drag the curtain to a place I can dump the leaves . . . smart. . . brains. . . no dumb bunny.

Two for One

Taken yesterday. These pileated woodpeckers are both females, probably mother and daughter. They played peekaboo on this oak tree for an hour.

Don't Hate December

Don't hate December, the month with the prettiest name; it's only doing its job of helping us appreciate the rest of the year. Leafless trees offer 360-degree views of enchanting sunsets -- when December has some sun as raw material. Good month for cutting back briars and Japanese honeysuckle and cedars, for changing batteries and windshield wipers, and for cleaning out the garage. A bunch of great holidays. Plus the Solstice, just two weeks away now -- when days will commence getting longer.

Port in a Storm

I said to the doctor, “Did I do this to myself? Should I go back to never drinking, not even a beer a month, a glass of wine? Should I never eat meat? Give up dairy? Should I give up sex? Doesn’t that stir up hormones? Isn’t it bad for me?”

And the doctor answered, “It’s not just about longevity. It’s about quality of life. If you enjoy something, that is the best medicine. Do what makes you happy, and have fun. Don’t give up doing anything that a normal person would do.” (In short: "Live Life.")

So I ordered this case of port, a terrific extravagance; it is the first case of wine that I have ever bought. But it’s so good, will stay good for years, and I won’t drink it [all] myself. I’ll give bottles to friends, drink it with friends. And give bottles as a thank-you to the people who helped and encouraged me while I cried and was down, and to hosts who’ll invite me to parties and dinner. I’m going to have fun.

Full Moon in Libra

Life here is so fun. I come home in my suit after 12 hours' work and see the full moon rising over the woods to the northeast. Run to get camera and tripod. Go out into the field & shoot photos for half an hour. Then have seven marshmallows for dinner. That's the way to wind down. I wish you had been with me. Maybe you'll be here for next full moon in Scorpio, and I'll obsessively make us addictive s'mores?