The River

The river corridor is beautiful. Two weeks ahead of the ridge in terms of Spring. Coming home yesterday I was a traffic hazard, but I pulled over at every opportunity. I took an hour to drive the 17 miles, stopping 10 times to examine bushes. The one large stand of bamboo is particularly lovely. TR called from the museum and he's ordered the 2 volume Thoreau's journals for me and I might get them on Saturday. Also, not only that he had been accepted for grad school but that today he learned he was getting a free ride. Good news, as I fear for an entire generation shackled with student debt. Debt has always bothered me. I have none, which allows me to live cheaply. Pay cash for almost everything. I had a small surplus, which is why I felt I could buy the Thoreau, and that while living on $800 a month (all inclusive, including taxes and vehicle insurance). Marilyn and I lived closer to the bone than that, for five of the years in Mississippi, until I started building barns and houses for other people. More than completely self-sufficient, a surplus, in fact, that built a house and paid for the place in Colorado. By bend of bay brings me here. No regrets, except that I wish I could have been around my daughters more when they were growing up. Napp, as they say. Morels on toast more than justify a day in the woods. Several people had mentioned a morel patch to the west of the cemetery, which involved clipping through green-briar, and it is a promising spot, I found a few and sign for many more. But also sign of turkey. I'm so pissed at them that I can hardly express my anger. I'll shoot, if I see one tomorrow, and turn it into a forcemeat. Turkey pate on toast points with olives. Green leaves fluttering, red maple and sassafras, the windows are open, the smells are fecund and sweet. Breaking Morel Rule #1, I make a second mushroom dish the same day. The rule clearly states one dish per day, the rest to be dried. Still, at the end of the season last year I was making Duxelles, which, the way I've adapted it, becomes almost a pate. Finely minced morels, finely minced sweet onion, crushed pistachio nuts, and butter, saute for ten minutes, then let it set up in the fridge for an hour. I like this on those little rye rounds, with sweet gherkins. Truly, one of the best things ever, you don't know whether to weep or just go ahead and die. I'll get back on my oyster schedule this week, and I'm looking forward to several combinations with morels. Also cream cheese and lox with Duxelles on a bagel. Best not to think too far ahead, lest I palpitate my heart. Sunday meal on a ship-of-line was always that British pudding thing, oats, with dried fruit, and pork fat, maybe a piece of gristle you could chew for a while.