From the internet that is. On Wednesday morning, when we started it up, the computer was wholly uncooperative. For hour upon hour, Joe struggled to make the do anything that it was supposed to do. He got nowhere. Toward mid-afternoon, the hard drive started making ominous clicking noises,
So, in the afternoon, after my lovely yet fruitless morning of mushroom hunting, we took a walk down to the creek for our first spring swim. As I ambled down the road enjoying the wildflowers and the warm afternoon, I was suddenly stopped in my tracks. There, in the rocky sandy soil piled up on the side of the road by our overzealous road grading crew, was a beautifully shaped, 4 inch tall morel!
They tell me that it's morel time, so on this glorious spring morning I decided to go mushroom hunting. I simply adore a properly butter-fried, lightly breaded, fresh morel! So, I donned my big floppy hat and my sandals and sallied forth into the forest.
For a long time here at the Tweedledee, we've been loners. Part of this tendency certainly arose from a feeling that we did not belong here, but I think the larger part was born from a need to prove that we could be totally independent and still succeed. We have gotten a lot accomplished during our time of isolation, but, at the same time, it has been a lonely accomplishment.
A year and a half ago we vowed to come out of isolation. WOW!!! What a difference it has made. We have new friends. And through both the inspiration and the assistance of those wonderful folks we are advancing by leaps and bounds. We have also been strengthening the ties between ourselves and our neighbors, and in that strengthening we have realized a generosity we had never acknowledged.
Sometimes we have time for major projects, and other times, we only have short blocks of time in which to get things done. In these times we focus on the myriad small jobs that desperately need to be done around the Tweedledee.
At least by modern standards. And it is a good job, especially as compared to many of the alternatives. I lead tours through the great Mammoth Cave, and most days, it's pretty fun. I work with a good group of folks, have reasonable supervisors, and at times get paid for doing things like "trail roving" which is a glorified term for hiking and answering questions for the two or three visitors I meet while I'm out there. Really, as jobs go, it can't be beat.
So why am I disappointed that this is my last day off this week?