Freeze Warning

Not just a frost warning, but a freeze warning, 25 degrees, but the river and the various bodies of water and the ground are so much warmer at this point that I can't imagine very much happening. Some frost on the roads. The verges, through the forest, had already turned a lovely emerald green, and the patches of honeysuckle have grown huge and thick. I stopped to look at a couple of walnut trees and they weren't even thinking about budding. The Redbud though is so beautiful I have to pay attention to my driving, lest I run off the road. Hunting morels for a good while today, it's a great way to study the ground; picked my first two, and sign of many more, though the cold will probably set them back. Not even enough for an omelet, but I slit them open and stuffed them with goat cheese and ran them through the toaster-oven as a kind of motivational technique. More rain, so I stayed inside and read the latest Ian Rankin novel. I did harvest enough water for personal ablutions, clean a bucket, and bring in an armload of wood. I had several words to look up, and I had been thinking about transgender popes, under the theory that if you took a large enough sampling (there have been a lot of popes) you could get any result you desired. I wonder about wearing robes, long skirts, and funny hats. I never was one for dress-up. Usually I was covered in fish-slime and crab juice and had to hose off before I could take a shower, or had been spending time with the hogs, and I'd been told to not come to the party. I eat papaya, or an odd citrus, sometimes, I just make a pone of cornbread.