Friday, June 19, 2020

Yesterday, hunting mushrooms in the Deschutes National Forest, a sudden-learning epiphany stretched beyond me and illuminated something about all humankind.

This season’s cool weather and plentiful moisture provides wild mushrooms aplenty. My few times searching for edible mushrooms have yielded enough to satisfy my needs. In earlier visits and during light drizzles, seeing men carrying big buckets and walking deeply through the forest made me wonder if some folks hunt mushrooms full-time, for example, professional chefs or maybe others who sell fresh mushrooms to restaurants?

Yesterday, the common area seemed picked clean. Although mushrooms grow everywhere, many little ground holes were evidence of harvesting. I wandered with the dogs, happy they were having fun, but not discovering identifiable, safely-edible mushrooms. After nearly an hour, my thoughts turned to heading home.

Then, a possible mushroom, young, nearly hidden. I dug and yes, there it was, young and delicious. Immediately pepping up, I resumed walking while staring at the ground. After a long while and just before deciding again to give up, another mushroom! This one too old and squishy, but still it spiked my energy. Wanting to escape this unyielding area, I changed direction and walked toward parts unknown.

On finding a healthy mushroom, my spirits leaped. Surely, others were around. After lots of walking and staring at the ground, I saw another mushroom. Now, the three good ‘rooms in my bag suggested better hunting in this area, and, finally, the searching earned rewards. It’s not that mushrooms always are easy to spot, but they often have a noticeable presence. My bag did fill, and maybe because my seeing had become better-trained.

My point is that, assuming hunters had stripped the area, I’d often been ready to give up and go home. But each spotting of a mushroom, whether healthy or soggy, renewed my enthusiasm for searching. There was a pattern in that part of my brain, recognizing too few wins to continue searching, wanted to quit. Another part of my brain spiked at each find and pushed me to keep looking ahead.

In my long-ago working-past, during periods of job-hunting, without quick responses from recruiters and no relevant help-wanted ads in the newspaper, I’d feel like dropping out. Any suggestion of a possible interview renewed my optimism, energy, and enthusiasm.

Dear Friends: Even very simple encouragements can keep us focused and moving. Diana

Thursday, June 18, 2020

Today will be warm and not highly windy, so I’ve a double schedule. This morning, I’ll drive to high grounds and hunt for mushrooms. This afternoon, I’ll gather the horses and ride. Those heavy plans might exhaust but make me happy.

Mushrooming is a sport with phases–hunting, preparing, devouring–enjoyable. Odd for me because until recently mushrooms were interesting only if specified in a recipe. Well, I did long-ago happily discover that a grilled portabella on a bun substitutes excellently as a burger. Maybe mushrooming pleases so since I’m seeking porcinis, easy to recognize and harvest, they resemble meaty portabellas.

Horseback outings are lovely. This summer, after several years of hitching and driving my horses, I’m again riding. This shift has forced me to re-learn how to tack-up securely, maintain in-saddle balance over varying terrains, manage a horse under saddle, another being ponied, our loyal donkey loosely following her horses, and my pack of eager dogs. Lots of work with technical issues, but special feelings arise when in a saddle, riding in open large areas. There occurs a wonderful multi-species reliving of history with adventure, discovery, and close communicating relationships.

Today, It’ll all happen.

Dear Friends: Wish me the luck to accomplish everything and enjoy every moment. Diana

Wednesday, June 17, 2020

The dogs and I spent much of yesterday wandering in forest above 5,000 ft. and searching for wild porcini mushrooms. This damp weather invites mushroomers to their sources so my pickings were on the slim side. I did bag enough to share with interested neighbors, and for my dinner, I sauteed in ghee rough-chopped mushrooms, tossed in pre-cooked chicken chunks, added some of Bill’s home-grown cilantro and mustard greens, and Oh My! chowed-down. Every bite was worth every step in the searching!

(With another thanks to my friend Dave for introducing me to the sport of mushrooming.)

Speaking of learning from friends, not long ago while descending the long driveway to check my mailbox, I found near it a used book without packaging or a note. Looking carefully, I saw on its spine a “thriftbooks. com” sticker and immediately knew who’d left it for me. Not long ago while out walking and meeting a distant neighbor, we paused to chat and somehow got onto the topic of books. It turned out she’s an avid reader and suggested I check out thriftbooks’ huge library of used books. It discounts and ships for less than other sources. My waiting-stack of reading materials is too-large and I forgot about thriftbooks.

Upon the gift of that book, I texted a thanks to my neighbor and went online to thriftbooks.com. Surprisingly, lots there interested me. Among its offerings were previously published books by Jill Lepore, one of my favorite writers and an expert on cultural and political histories. I’ve searched for her back-books, she’s popular on Amazon and still expensive. Thriftbooks made used versions of her books easily affordable, I purchased several.

It’s difficult to wait for packages beyond Amazon’s two-day shipping, but finally thriftbooks arrived. Delighted, I grabbed a book from atop the stack and began reading.

Lepore’s 1998 book, The Name of War, details events surrounding the “bloodiest war in America history” (in 1675), between a group of Algonquian Indians and their Puritan New Englander neighbors. I’m in total-learning mode to that event, called “King Philip’s War”, and especially challenging in today’s enlightenment by #metoo and Black Lives Matter. It’s no distant matter to visualize those 17th Century living conditions and social struggles among skins and cultures: in those times primarily Native Americans and early American settlers.

In one sense society has come a long way, in another sense very little way.

Dear Friends: More later, just wanted to explain this reading, how it came to be. Diana

Tuesday, June 16, 2020

(A note on yesterday’s blog: I was running late and borrowed from a free source an image of mushrooms. I titled it “Porcinis”. That photo wasn’t of porcinis. An alert reader caught my error and wondered if I correctly can recognize wild porcinis. Yes! I consume them, too, and haven’t fallen ill. Thank you, reader! Most photos are from my camera, but occasionally with exceptions and I’ll be more careful. BTW, today’s header photo (also from a free source) is accurate.)

Today, I’ll meet up with my long time friend, Dave, who’s also my mushrooming mentor. He can identify many species and rate their safety as food. Some food-safe mushrooms, like porcinis and morels, are easy for novices like me to identify. Among other easily-recognizable species, and with Dave’s help, I wish to know those “unmistakable shapes” that are edible.

Yesterday in a rain, the dogs and went into forested country for a long hike. As we ambled along a road, they were in dog heaven, noses pointed into cracks, crevices, and ground holes.

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It’s been years since I’ve wanted to be in the forested west side. Those recent mushrooming experiences have revived feelings of health and happiness by “just being” in Nature’s Heart. I wished to be outside with my dogs among trees in the rain.

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Dear Friends: A perfect day’s adventure may be pretty close to the front door. Diana

Monday, June 15, 2020

Saturday will be our 2020 summer solstice, this year’s longest daylight hours. That day, our local temperatures will rise to 89 degrees, the week’s warmest and popped way above recent temperatures ranging in the 50s and 60s.

Summer solstices mark a beginning-of-the-end to long daylights and warm weather. Afterwards, in days of less light temperatures begin cooling. Here in Oregon’s high desert, September and October are very beautiful months. This year our unusually cool and wet weather dims the impact of summer solstice. It’ll shorten daylights but have less-noticeable weather shifts.

The weather is a big deal, a topic on steroids for those living-in or visiting outdoorsy areas. Oregon’s high desert is a crazy place with a massive mountain range and heavy foresting on its west side, and hundreds of miles of dry sandy desert on the eastern side. The mountain ranges either block or alter weather systems from the west, and the desert can be inhospitably hot or cold.

Years ago, my biggest temperature consideration was whether to venture outside on horseback. I’ve tolerated trails in temperatures over 30 degrees, but anything less makes rein-holding hands sheerly frozen and bitterly-painful. In recent years, during very cold temperatures horse-riding be hanged, I’ve stayed inside by a fireplace.

This year, I’ve developed a new interest and wish to become a capable mushroomer. After lifelong fears of potentially-killer wild mushrooms, I’m learning how to identify and harvest varieties not poisonous. Searching for wild mushrooms still is a new experience, and this week I’ll search with my mentor. That will boost my skills in identifying, harvesting, and preparing fungi as food.

About this weather, I’m less focused on the solstice, and instead loving an ongoing gloomy drizzle. The thing is, it keeps soils damp and encourages newly-emerging fungi.

Dear Friends: It’s all about perspective and relative to our interests and activities. Diana

Sunday, June 14, 2020

Yesterday, I prepared to drive toward the Cascades with my dogs, and let them explore freely a forested area. Here at home a light rain fell and my cell phone reported rain ongoing throughout the day. While pausing for gasoline, my destination shifted from the mountains to a small BLM on this city’s eastside. Running through much of that BLM is a vigorous irrigation canal, my dogs love the place.

In light rain, the BLM parking area was empty. Immediately, upon starting to follow the dogs along the waterway, I found that frequent rains now have it stunningly lined by healthy and very colorful plants. I’ve walked often there for years, never before seeing as much streaming health and plant varieties. Each of the stream’s sides hosted tall yellow lilies, True forget-me-nots, Queen Anne’s lace, Sulphur flowers, and widespread red clovers.

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The dogs in running-heaven plunged into or leaped across the steam, treading on vegetation now strong enough to withstand bruisings. They climbed up and onto the high natural pilings of big rocks and poked their noses into cavities.

On the other side of those big rocks is a desert side, a broad expanse of dry land. I joined the dogs by climbing up and walking along rocky tops, before we descended onto the dry side among desert-sorts of flowering plants. Now, we were among short-stemmed sunflowers, sand lilies, multi-colored asters, and such lesser-recognized opportunists as winterfat, plantain, phacelia, and milk vetch. These plants like those by the water were plentiful and strong.

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I kept my camera busy despite the dashing dogs that frequently brushed against my legs. As the rain drizzling slowed we began to wrap up our outing. While heading in the direction of our Jeep an afternoon sun began to shine. Ah, another lovely adventure and this time closer to home.

Dear Friends: A semi-isolation period pushes us toward broader interests. Diana

Saturday, June 13, 2020

I returned to the forested Cascade Mountains where my friend, Dave, recently introduced me to the art of mushrooming. Returning alone, I was experimenting with being alone in vast wilderness. Well, this pilgrimage wasn’t exactly lonely, with my dogs along.

I drove high on a main road passing turnoff opportunities and arbitrarily selected one. I then navigating my Jeep along an unexpectedly narrow, conifer-smothered dirt track, finally spotting an off-road space large enough to park. I exited, released the excited dogs, and stood several moments breathing incredibly fresh air. As Dave had taught, I held a mesh bag for harvested mushrooms (allowing, while being carried, continuing spore-scatterings).

Another lesson from the initial outing was that walking in a wilderness can disorient one. That and the limited vision from many trees can lose a parked vehicle. This time, I carried helpful electronics. One was a “go back” that can estimate distance and direction of a car’s location. As a precaution, I had my Spot personal locator, which can signal for a needed rescue. Remember, this adventure was my first-ever time alone in a vast public area. I’m unable to navigate by compass (but will learn).

The dogs and I wandered, my eyes moving constantly and searching for mushrooms. Before long, I began to comprehend that my earlier experience had been more broad than simply mushrooming. Many other factors that surround an art of mushrooming had compelled my desire to re-experience the great outdoors.

The Pacific Northwest, all about outdoors, is an incredibly inviting area for hiking, fishing, biking, wild-animal hunting, and horseback riding. Most of my years in this area and outdoors were on horseback. I loved it but feared being alone and on foot in a large forested area.

But this day, my every step slowly turned into adventure. This arose from a sudden awareness with each step of differing sensitivities of ground. And, too, from unique plant sightings.

I paid attention to the intricate patterns of tree barks, and focused on the area’s possible history while struggling across much naturally-occurred wood debris. There were many fascinating rock formations.

Throughout, the dogs stayed with me. I moved carefully in directions and tried to avoid losing my vehicle. This failed, for upon deciding to go to another road, and walking toward where the Jeep was parked, I finally resorted to the back-tracking device. No surprise, my parking spot was a couple hundred yards away and in quite another direction.

It was another great day. Tired dogs, wild mushrooms, and somehow, pleasantly, more of myself.

Dear Readers: Planning with Dave a re-trip to practice the spotting of morels. Diana

Friday, June 12, 2020

My friend, David Gilbert is a lifelong outdoorsman. He’s lived in Alaska and Colorado, and by now also is a long-time Bend resident. Dave both hikes and rides horseback, he knows where to find and how to navigate most Central Oregon wilderness trails. I was honored to follow him and his dogs through a beautiful wilderness near Mount Bachelor. It’s an area he visits often for there are edible wild mushrooms growing there. Dave was sharing the arts of spotting and harvesting them.

Dave moved slowly, looking carefully and confidently in one area and then in others where he previously has discovered mushrooms and anticipated they’d still be growing. He explained that early-season mushrooms grow in lower areas, and as spring matures emerging growths occur in higher locations. He was searching primarily for Boletus edulis (porchini) and for morels. On discovering and harvesting a Boletus, he showed me while explaining its growth and structures, and preparation steps for cooking.

That got me going and before long both of us were spotting edible Boletus. Dave showed how to identify those Boletus too old and spent to harvest. I didn’t take pictures of an emerging Boletus, planning to that later. I did capture a beautiful mushroom that Dave explained was one of the most poison in Central Oregon.

We found lots of Boletus, plenty for us to share.

We didn’t discover morels in the area but lots more to savor. There were young Ponderosas sporting branches heavy with new acorns. The grounds we walked on sprouted galores of young wild strawberries.

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I’ll be returning, and wild for strawberries and mushrooms alike. My dogs will go, too, and enjoy running and sniffing in that beautiful place. It’s also an area ideal for riding horseback, and that’s another plan.

Back home, my lunch consisted of mushrooms and scrambled eggs sauteed in ghee. Oh, all delish!

Dear Friends: The wilderness has begun calling ever louder to me! Diana

Thursday, June 11, 2020

As I write it’s raining again, after several overnight bouts. This welcome moisture makes difficult the task of ridding weeds on my property. I self-console by deciding to forget weeds and instead go horseback riding. The trails won’t be dusty today unless rain becomes steadily-intermittent or continuous. In years past, I’ve ridden in rain and enjoyed it. But I was younger, tougher, more courageous. These days I tend to seek comfort over adventure.

Speaking of comfort, and after long-arguing with myself, I’ve cancelled my cable TV subscription. I’ll keep the internet, or streaming service, because it’s often used. As for cable, during the continuous coronavirus semi-lockdown, networks daily carried endless hours of White House briefings, and afterwards, one talking head after another echoed everything. Gradually, I quit watching.

Meanwhile, the streaming services are upping their offerings, some of which are terrific. There’s plenty that’s appealing to watch. It’s also possible to view network news channels through such as Hulu. If there’s a premium charge, maybe it’s less than subscribing to cable.

National newspapers report that cable-watching significantly has dropped off through these months of self-isolation and coronavirus-reporting. Lot of other folks also have become bored and willing to dump their cable channels. That most of us have turned daily to streaming services is reflected among key providers as majorly-increasing stock prices.

I’m wiping my hands of cable, rehanging a window antenna. I’ll look forward to free PBS News-hours with Judy and her crew keeping me reasonably apprised.

Besides, my neighbors subscribe to cable and also stock some Coors Lite. Experience with neighbors has taught that similar political views may be agents of happy bonding. Maybe if there’s something coming up on cable that I simply can’t miss, they’ll let me sit-in and watch, maybe even with a cold brew.

Dear Friends: Sun’s begun to shine, so I’ll pack-it-all-in and go out to ready my horses. Diana

Wednesday, June 10, 2020

Lately I’ve been thinking about art, wondering how it’s created and evolves. My recent favorite watches have been a French film, “Portrait of a Woman on Fire”, released last fall and very popular. The other a British sitcom that first aired thirty years ago and now is streaming, it’s the series “Absolutely Fabulous”, an international success throughout its six seasons and afterwards as re-runs for many years.

Great art is easy to recognize, lets viewers take away their own ideas about what makes works effective and their possible meanings. I enjoy allowing my brain to go into its own creative places, come up with ideas and expand them. It’s a joyous experience with appropriate stimulation for this, from a book, movie, or something that’s spontaneous on the street.

Regarding “Portrait” and “Ab Fab”, I’ve gone beyond my own mind and imagination by listening to the creators of these works. There’s easy learning about filmwork creation from Celine Sciamma who wrote and directed “Portrait”. She has in-depth answers during numerous interviews on YouTube about her films, especially this one. She explains how she selected and worked with actors, and why her directing style is to corregraph everything in a scene–from positions and movements to in-and-out breathing. She speaks to her work as an entire course about creating and comprehending meanings in film.

Oddly, differently and yet similarly, the writer of “Ab Fab”, Jennifer Saunders, explains her work addressing the funny, perplexing issues of daily living. Her skits focus on personal struggles associated to one’s goals and interpersonal relationships. Her situations are creative funnies, as pratfalls, alter-ego conflicts, mother-daughter issues, ex-husband and alimony disappointments, women-owned businesses and women as competitors, and a long-missing adult son who refuses any contact with his mother.

These artworks offer entirely different experiences regardless of a viewer’s gender. One work is visually beautiful, intellectually enthralling, and even mind-bending. The other is a laugh-out-loud comedy, compelling and identifiable as the “inners of us all”. Each has the qualities of construction and depth that touch people deeply. Each forces us to respond to the art and to its purposes. They make us think and feel–or maybe the other way around, make us feel and then think.

Dear Friends: There’s much to learn about the complex, absolutely fascinating topic of art. Diana