Loosened from the mud, I find myself floating in a world of possibility.

So can you.

September's end

The wind is blowing in from the north and I am cold. I have no hat and I am in the middle of the woods. The wind is blowing in from the north and the smoke from the campfire is on my face. But I have no hat so I need to stay near the warmth of the fire. How is it that I am always so unprepared in these season changes? How is it that I will get warm? How I wish I had my flannel lined jeans.

The wind is blowing in from the north and it's too cold to drink beer. So I sip my whiskey and turn my thoughts to my foraging goals for this weekend. 

Last weekend I searched and searched for hen of the woods. I searched in the woods. I searched the oaks down by the river. But all I found were these turkey tails. Which apparently have medicinal value but I'm not there yet in knowledge or know how.

Little did I know that I would be tormented all week long in the city as I saw photos of hen of the woods show up on Facebook and Instagram. Over and over the photos of ginormous fungi appeared on my feeds. And I became obsessed with foraging and finding and social media. 

Time for some detox.

Apparently the cold sort of detox where shivers burrow down to my bones.

It's time to get hardy.

Because this wind from the north? It is the winds of change. Tomorrow I think I'll get down to the foraging business early. The sun will come out. I will be warm and well fed. I hope.