Walking Riverbanks

Don't get me started. I know everything is unfinished. A specific entanglement, where wrack had collected in some tree trunks. I felt the need to poke it with a stick. In this case, some large sticks, trees, actually, had lodged between three trees forming a triangle about twenty feet on a side. The some medium sticks got stuck in, then the whole pile built quickly, as the flood-water receded. The entire debris pile is maybe eight feet high in the center running smoothly down to the ground, maybe 40 feet in diameter. A handsome thing to the wrackologist in me. The usual river stuff, 75% of it, but always the other 25%. Mostly wood, beautiful, in all sizes, mostly debarked and polished smooth; doll pieces, balls, lots of plastic, various pieces of rope, and all the other detritus that finds its way into feeder streams along hundreds of miles of bank. I'll go back, when it dries out, as there were some nice pre-cut firewood rounds, but they weigh about a hundred pounds each right now. A long slow walk in the woods, looking for morels, and I found a few. The leaves on the blackberry canes that are in the open, are unfurling, and the Sassafras buds are swelling. Morels on toast with a cheese omelet. I do seriously love mushrooms on toast. Just butter, salt and pepper. Put on some grits in the crock pot, so I can make some polenta. We have to start thinking ahead here. Be good to have a pork tenderloin in the freezer. Things on which morels could be served. I make a pate, from morels, ground chicken, chicken fat, butter, and various other things, that has the mouth-feel of avocado, and sends your taste buds into overdrive. I don't use it as a weapon. But I always keep a meat thermometer in a holster on my belt.