Deer Ticks

Chanterelles lure me back into the woods. Drew mentioned he'd been seeing a few. I can't resist, and the conditions have been perfect, enough rain to keep the forest duff moist. I know I'll pick up some ticks, but I need a sponge bath anyway, and I find a good batch of mushrooms, down near the creek. They tend to be dirty, with their open gills, growing through the mast, but I have a soft toothbrush that cleans them pretty well, and a little bit of leaf-matter isn't going to kill you. I have a mess of them, slow cooked in butter, on toast, that are outstanding, then make a mushroom gravy that I ladle onto a small beef fillet and mashed potatoes that is so good I want to call someone and tell them. Exercising great restraint, I don't. I turned off Black Dell and the AC about midnight, opened the windows. Fireflies are actually beetles, and they were out in force. God damn Whip-O-Will sets up right outside the house and I go out blasting away with the shotgun, just to get him to move further away. They remind me how much I don't like Philip Glass. Set in my ways. I stopped at the library, did my laundry, stopped at the liquor store, and bought groceries. The presence of mind to make a list. Stopped at B's new place, so convenient now, that I can drive right up to the house, and we chat. They're rehearsing tonight, Kevin, Ronnie, and B. I'm invited down, to hear what they're doing. Ronnie is a no-show, but Kevin and B make great music. Something enormously correct, sitting in the near darkness, on the newly screened porch, listening to home-made music, in the middle of the State Forest. With a pleasant buzz I make it home safely, pour a wee dram and roll a smoke. An email from my friend Kim, and he's damaged his shoulder in a fall at ping-pong. I have nightmares about falling. About the only thing I have nightmares about, which is strange, as I had always been known for my agility. Now I'm more careful, and consider a railing for the two steps outside the back deck. Birthdays do that, the cosmic clock clicking toward annihilation. I can't complain, I've lived a very full life and have few regrets; and B got a land-line, down at the new place, so he could call to see if I were still alive. How much more of a friend would you need?