Humic Musk

The snow mostly disappeared by noon, it was only 36 degrees, but the ground was already warmer from recent days. Driveway should be ok tomorrow and I might go do laundry, go the library, lay in some supplies. Zack, the percussionist for the Emily project, is playing in a percussion trio at the museum Friday night, we'll see. Read all morning, a history of salt (I have several), and several of the stories in Best Short Stories 1994, which I'd picked up at the Goodwill. Should be warm enough tomorrow to strip out of my long-underwear, toss it in the laundry pile, take a bath, and if I did the laundry, I'd be ready for the next round. After I got my hip warmed up, I went out for a walk. The driveway was muddy/frozen and rather slick, so I walked in the woods, out past the graveyard, on the ridge-line that parallels the river. Fairly clear terrain and a nice hike. I carried my smallest pack: a foam pad, to kneel on, a magnifying glass, a couple of Balance nutrition bars, and a small bottle of water. In one of those side-pockets I often keep a nip of decent whiskey. Just in case. I'd stopped at a convenient stump, to roll a smoke, sitting there, trying to make cold fingers work. The air thick with rotting mast, a breeze that promises more snow. Fortunately, I snap twigs as a matter of course, it's a system to find my way back home. I pretty much know the way, though I may be lost in the moment. I did get turned around once, following a flock of wild turkeys. Very cool and wary birds. They post guards and have an elaborate alarm system. When I first heard them, I did my best to become invisible; they were working up the hollow below me. They'd send out a couple of scouts, who, with a series of clucks, would indicate that the coast was clear. There were 17 or 18 of them, it's very difficult to count turkeys. I followed them for an hour or more, and I was, well and truly, lost. But I knew where the road was (Upper Twin) and I walked a spiral until I found one of my broken twigs. Then I was home free. Not exactly a bee-line, the only time I walk straight is when I'm carrying firewood, the rest of the time, I'm hunched over, following a tangent. Oak galls could be a food-source. I sliced several of them open and the liquid in them is very sweet. Oak Gall Jelly occurs to me, as something you might have with Antelope haunch.