Eye Training

Every spring I'm struck with the thousand shades of green. I'd walked over beyond the graveyard, to look down into the hollow where the church used to be, that serviced my cemetery. I've got a stump there, where I can sit and smoke, have a nip from my flask. There was some wind, and the soft new leaves were draping over each other, a few drops of rain, the sky was steel gray. I must have sat there for an hour, drifting in the middle distance, the oaks are leafing-out, the maples are frivolous, the Black Walnuts are finally budded. They are always the last to bud, and the first to drop their leaves, they have a growing season, here, of 90 days, so they don't make rapid progress, in terms of spreading, not like any of the oaks. Survival characteristics. I thought about the succession of plants in an area that had been clear-cut after the fire a few years ago, about how events were illusions. The past is always a memory, and the future is a projection, it's that narrow slot between, that's the issue. How do you perceive time? I don't care if I'm wrong, sitting on my stump, observing the way green comes to a hollow. Light green at the bottom, darker green as it eased on up the slope. Mountain Laurel. A town friend called and wanted to come out and look for morels. I told him to bring a six-pack. He'd never foraged anything before. We went out, between light rains, and I saw one right away, stopped him and told him he was within five feet of a nice morel. He found it in about three minutes. I told him not to move and just look at the mushroom for five minutes. Imprint a picture in his brain. That would make it easier to see them in the future. He found three more between where he was standing and the first one. I find asparagus by knowing what last year's foliage looks like. When we got back to the house, I made him morels on toast, with a butter sauce and a sprinkling of fresh paprika (another friend just sent me) and I thought he was going to swoon. After he left, I made a very quick trip into town, an hour, to get whiskey, tobacco, sushi, and an avocado. This was, again between the rains, the wind was blowing and I figured the driveway was firm enough. It was, I got to town, despite the hundreds of people on bicycles, doing the yearly run, down from Columbus (100 miles) and back tomorrow. But I know their route and know the ways around, so it isn't much of a problem, on my way out of town; until 16 of them run a red light and I'm the first car in line, the other direction; I would have been upset, at being delayed, but they were all in spandex and it was like looking at the butt parade. Not unlike what we see every day. I really try to keep a low profile. It's all up in the air. You might well imagine it's one thing , but it could be another. Just saying.