I think there’s a theory that if you move fast enough, eventually you’ll be standing still. Or maybe that’s just a theory I devised and am now attempting to give credibility to by external attribution.
Anyway…
Since last I wrote (nearly two months ago, for those who are playing along), there has been motion a-plenty. Gardens have been planted, my older cat has died, migraines have come and gone and come again, my forcefield, entourage, and various potions and talismans sallied forth into two airports and came out unscathed (though nearly scaleless) (not those kinds of scales), family visits have occurred, and I’m neck deep into some bookkeeping for a friend’s business in which the only thing that the quickbooks files and the bank reports have in common is that they contain numbers. (!) That’s just MY side of things (no details on Dave’s side of the motion). To sum it up: the the crisis/calm index of the Portland Cole household has ricocheted around like a ferret on crack.
Maybe I shouldn’t take so long between posts. But you know how it is: you get so sucked into the suck that you haven’t anything to write except alphabetical poems of how everything sucks. Which are best saved for 750words.com. The need to post something of value, or merit, worthy of publishing is a daunting foe. A good idea in the bath rarely makes it past the recorder on my phone. Sad, really, since I’m only here to babble about motion. Not for documenting Grand Prose, just for observing; for noticing motion; and for sharing these observations (hopefully with an ironically-still photo or two).
Most recent motion: we went camping and Morel hunting on the east side of Mt. Hood. Walking around the woods staring at tree roots and shady spots is immensely calming. It’s really amazing how much more you … ahem … notice when you’re noticing things. I kept forgetting what we were hunting for because I was finding so many other interesting things to study. I started taking pictures of other mushrooms, because the Morel is a Solitary Beast, elusive and wily (plus, it turned out that we were up against a camp of 25 other Morel hunters, so we really never stood a chance. They took pity on our meager scores and doubled our lot, which was very kind of them.)
I have a lot in common with mushrooms in general. We prefer the shade and the cool mountain air. We grow best when left alone. We don’t grow well in labs. We’re oddly shaped. When we’re close with one another, we’re very close, but when we’re distant, we’re far, far alone. (I’m waxing philosophical here, so we can omit the fact that some mushrooms grow well in shit, thankyouverymuch.) (Though my inner 12-yr-old would like to point out that I am sometimes full of shit.)
Score! Morel!
Don't eat these.
You MIGHT be able to eat these, with exciting results.
Yes, it really is a mushroom.
We have tons of mushrooms growing like weeds in our yards. I’m thinking of searching for a mycologist to guide me about which are food and which are pain and death… I love reading your voice again. and yay for surviving trips and family things unscathed.