I took an accidental overdose of climate science writings this week. After wallowing in descriptions of positive feedback loops of methane gas, ocean acidification and general ways in which we have screwed the planet I reached a level requiring a detoxification program. A twelve-step program to restore balance, sometimes described as sticking ones head in the sand, was required.
So after a hard day’s work on Saturday we retired to a neighboring farm for a nice potluck of lasagna, salad, homemade bread, plenty of wine and abundant laughter. We watched one of our hosts ride her horse before turning him out for the night, admired healthy cattle, sipped bourbon and shook our heads at the plight of their tomatoes.
The two native Southerners (out of seven) made conversation about the recent flag controversy. Their significant others wisely refrained from voicing opinions and the conversation moved onto other topics of personal interest. As the summer sun set the dinner dishes were removed and dessert, coffee and that nice bourbon finished off the evening.
We left late, for us country folk, drove down the valley to our farm. We said goodnight to a friend who had ridden along to the dinner with us. And then retired to bed.
This morning we had an early breakfast, loaded up the kayaks and spent a pleasant hour paddling about the still waters of the Tennessee River. Trying not to recall the warnings not to eat fish from the river we admired the herons fishing. And glided past largemouth bass laying up in the shadows.
I fixed us root beer floats in early afternoon. Then after a much needed nap, a productive afternoon hunting chanterelle mushrooms was on the agenda, netting about a pound. I also harvested a nice batch of hen-of-the-woods. So a nice cream and mushroom sauce over a choice bit of lamb or mutton is on the menu sometime in the next few days.
I may still have a bit of sand in the ears. But it wasn’t a bad place to keep my head this weekend.
Am glad the root beer floats won. And the mushrooms… glorious!
About a quarter mile past the deer crossing sign (see July 8 photo at GP) there is a retention pond by the road. A heron keeps close tabs on it and a shallow wetland next door which has been full of water this year with all the rain we’re getting. They are remarkable birds.
Have been expecting the mosquitoes to get pretty thick this year, but we seem to have been fortunate thus far. There are plenty of things to get worried over if that is what one seeks. Seeking shelter from the storm is a Dylanesque way to cope. Keeping a bucket of sand handy might be just the ticket at times. Keeping a few mushrooms and a bottle of wine though sounds better to me.
Thanks for sharing.
We have had some similar heavy deer traffic this summer. A large buck with a huge antler spread has been making a regular appearance on the hill above the house. Usually at sunset with the sun setting him off in stark relief against the darkening sky. Very cool. I wish him success this coming fall.
My first thought was that I wanted to hear your thoughts on the disasters lurking ahead of us, but then I remembered how I’m becoming mildly infuriated about everyone (who pays attention to the true state of the world) arguing over pet scenarios and treating each other heinously for failing to be ideologically pure. (What? You’re still breathing? Don’t you realize that you’re a carbon producer just by breathing?!) I guess once one is sufficiently knowledgeable and fully convinced of myriad harbingers of doom, it’s basically all over already but the shouting. Your response was to take refuge in the company of others and share today’s bounty. You apparently even dodged a 150-year-old Confederate bullet. So despite my being innately attuned to telling the truth about the world as best as I can understand it, it seems to me far more graceful to follow your example and be amongst one’s neighbors and let the world’s troubles fall away for an evening, focusing instead on good food and good company. Wish I were there.
Yep, there are better and more knowledgeable writers to tackle that subject. Know your strengths and weaknesses. One of these days you will find yourself on a road-trip in Tennessee. Let me know.
The mushrooms in your photo are essentially the same as those in my nearest woods, minus the hen-of-the-woods. Have you found a way to prepare the reishi to make it acceptable? Maybe it’s just me, but the “health tea” hasn’t seemed worth the flavor.
Nope, the flavor is not that great. I don’t drink it often. But when I do I put plenty of honey in it. In that photo you can see some pinkish boletes in the upper right. Don’t eat those. I bring back a few i’m unsure of each forage for identification.
Apparently, Amy, those boletes were bicolors, edible and tasty.