I’d just phoned a neighbor and informed her that she has MeadowMushrooms popping up all over her lawn. Although I’d made a positive I.D. on the choice fungi from some I’d gathered from my own property, she was hesitant to eat them. And rightly so.Mushroom poisoning is no fun. And if you eat the wrong kind of mushroom you can end up planted in the ground and pushing up mushrooms over your grave. However, because I told her I’d already eaten some and was still standing, she thought she’d give them a try.
Meadow mushrooms are among the finest of edible mushrooms. Mushroom lovers dream about them. And based on when and where they grow and confirmed by making a spore print, they’re easy to identify. The taste is like commercial “button” mushrooms, only more so.
After pigging out on as many as I could (first raw, then sliced, cooked, and sautéed with shrimp and angel hair pasta, then finally sautéed in butter all by themselves), I loaded the rest of my harvest in my food dehydrator for later.
This morning I got up thinking about gathering more Meadow mushrooms. I’m very greedy when it comes to mushrooms. Having harvested all the Meadow mushrooms from my property, I called my neighbor and asked her if she’d tried them.
“Yes, I did,” she said. “They’re wonderful! But I can’t eat them all, so if you want more come and get them.”
Bwah Ha Ha!
Are you a mushroom lover? Go ahead and leave a comment!
The question was posed by our youngest son. After being on his own for a while, he’d stopped by for a visit. The TV was off, the radio was silenced and the stereo was resting. The only sound was the methodic ticking of a clock.
•Again the question came: “It’s so quiet here. How do you stand it?”
I remembered this incident recently when I read about a study done by the University of Virginia and reported in the July 4, 2014 edition of Science magazine. Study subjects consisting of a broad span of ages ages were asked to spend six to 15 minutes by themselves without any external stimuli – no computer, cell phone, music, TV, magazines or books to entertain them; nothing to write with or on. Instead, they were told to occupy themselves with their thoughts – in other words, disconnect from the external world and connect with the internal world.
Most of the people who participated in the study didn’t like the experience. The researchers are not yet sure why, although they have some theories. One of their theories is that the human mind is designed to focus on the external world and when those external stimuli are removed the mind becomes uncomfortable.
•I have my own theory.
As a culture, I think we’re overstimulated. So much so that being alone with our thoughts is almost torture.
I find this hard to understand. I love to get away by myself to a quiet place and have time just to think. In fact, I deliberately create such times. I find them restful and refreshing. Life make sense again as take time to sort things out. As Victor Hugo wrote in Les Misérables, “there are many mouths that speak, and but few heads that think.”
Consider my dog. The pasture grass behind my house is taller than she is. As she romps around in the tall grass, I can only tell where she is by the rusting movements. After a few moments of this, she realizes she’s lost track of me. She leaps above the grass, looks around and finds me. Satisfied, she drops back down in the grass and resumes finding bugs are whatever it was she was doing.
I believe we must do the same. As we rustle through the tall grass of life, we need to take some time out to stick our heads above the mess and get our bearings. In other words, take time to think. Disconnect in order to connect.
What about you? Do you like being alone? Are you comfortable with disconnecting? Why or why not? What refreshes you? We’re all different. What recharges your batteries? I have a friend who recharges by being around lots of people. That works for him. Let us know what you think!
But wait, there’s more!(I’m being facetious of course, but there really is more). I’m interested in your thoughts. You can reply, send me an email, and/or help design the new monthly newsletter –
Overheard recently by my wife at her place of employment –
“You ought to meet Katherine’s husband. He’s this big, 6’3” macho outdoorsman and his dog is a POODLE!”
Ahem. That’s STANDARD Poodle, if you please. Not one of those yappy little car wash mitts.
So why a poodle for a macho man?
I’m glad you asked that question, because there’s a backstory. Not that I owe you an explanation. But seeing as how you’ve read this far, let’s continue.
When we moved to North Central Montana years ago (The Land of the Upland Bird) I wanted a bird dog. So I got a yellow Lab pup. Named him “Nugget” as I expected him to be pure gold. And he was.
Trained him myself, and in spite of my many mistakes Nugget became a retriever’s retriever. But the inevitable happened. Nugget turned 13 last January, and went the way of all the earth shortly after.
I began thinking about another dog, but after Nugget I couldn’t bear to get another Lab. So I started doing some research, and discovered that Standard Poodles were originally bred as hunting retrievers. Some of them still have it in their blood.
Bonus: Unlike Labs, poodles don’t shed. Labs shed like a Montana blizzard, and my wife was tired of vacuuming up enough hair each week to make a new dog.
Enter the Standard Poodle.
The short story: I contacted Dreamscapes Standard Poodles in Trout Creek, Montana. Dreamscapes breeds their Standards for bird hunting, retrieving, backpacking and carting. We now share our home with a very nice female Standard pup of just under four months of age. Her call name is Sophie – alias Sweet Pea, alias Snuggle Bunny, alias Daddy’s Girlie-Girl and sometimes alias Monster Baby.
After church last Sunday a friend gave me a ride home. I asked him if he’d like to see my new dog.
He said, “Does she have bows in her hair and painted toenails?”
Aaron Alexis of Texas was a whack job. That’s all I can conclude, although as of today law enforcement officials still have no inkling as to why Alexis sprayed bullets into a crowd of innocent people at the Washington Navy Yard in our nation’s capitol yesterday. Before police took him out, Alexis had killed 12 people and wounded three.
When I read the article yesterday in my local newspaper I thought, Yet another mass shooting. Ho-hum. But then I caught myself. Ho-hum? HO-HUM??? Where was my outrage? Where was my indignation? Where was my fury? Have I now heard of so many mass shootings that I have become heartless? Insensitive? Even numb?
Andwhere was God? Could He not have prevented this? Could He not have prevented Newtown? And if He could have prevented these things, why didn’t He?
It’s these last four questions indie film maker Albert Salaz Jr. of Diego Productions considers in his latest film short Moretti, which competed last week at the Los Angeles International Short Film Festival. I was privileged to screen a prerelease version of Moretti just a few days ago.
Moretti is powerful. Moretti is thought-provoking. Moretti is outrageous. And if you’re sensitive to the F-bomb being dropped a couple of times, you’ll want to plug your ears when the bombs fall from the sky. But to me, the assault on my sensitivities was worth it. The trailer is available online (minus the F-bombs).
A fifth question occurred me as the full film concluded. If you decide to view the full version of Moretti when it’s pubically available, this question may also occur to you –
And their expanse is declaring the work of His hands.
Day to day pours forth speech,
And night to night reveals knowledge.” (Ps 19:1-2, NASU)
Have you ever been awed by a sunrise, wonderstruck by a starry sky, astonished as you gazed from a mountain peak, or marveled at the ways of a river? If so, then you have heard from God. Each day’s sunrise speaks of God’s faithfulness, the night sky and the mountains remind us of His great power, and the flow of a stream in its channel testifies to God’s promised guidance of the Christian’s life.
Much can be learned about God by examining the world around us. Theologians call this, “General Revelation,” or the revealing evidence of God’s existence and what He is like through the things He has made. I call it pretty cool.
If you’re a Christian sportsman, then you know what I’m talking about. You can’t spend much time outdoors hunting, fishing, camping, or hiking before you start making the connection between what God has revealed about Himself in the Bible with what you experience in the great outdoors.
For example, a few years ago I was hunting elk. It was early morning, and I was hoping to catch elk passing by as I sat near a trail they used as they traveled from their night time feeding area to their daytime bedding site. The first animal that happened by wasn’t an elk, but that animal brought me a word from God.
It was a very nice whitetail buck, four points to each antler. I had a deer permit, but I hesitated to harvest the buck as I was afraid that the shot would spook any nearby elk. As I wondered what to do, the buck stopped and stood broadside, not thirty yards away. Easy shot. To shoot or not to shoot?
Finally I decided to take the buck, but at that very moment he flipped his tail and was gone. I’d waited too long. The opportunity was lost, gone as quickly as a popped balloon.
I began thinking of all the other opportunities I’d missed in life by waiting too long. And I thought of the story of Moses in Exodus 4:10-16. Because Moses hesitated, he lost a special opportunity.
At that point in my life I was struggling with an opportunity I thought God might be offering to me. But it required a huge step of faith, and I was hesitating. In all of this God was saying, “Stop hesitating. Move forward now or you’ll regret it, just like you just lost the opportunity to take that buck. The time to ‘tag’ My will is now.” I decided to move forward by faith, and it turned out to be the right decision.
If you’re a Christian sportsman you can probably relate. The Lord often speaks to us through outdoor experiences. If you love the Lord and love the great outdoors, I’d like to recommend something to you. For daily devotions centered around God and the outdoors, check out http://www.sportsmensdevotional.com/.
But wait, there’s more! I’m interested in your thoughts. You can send me an email, post a comment right here online and more –
Busyness is thief, a villain that saps our strength and robs us of life.
Although it’s true that a busy life is a purposeful life, we can get so busy with life that we forget to live. Especially if our lives include serving others in some way.
A few years ago, this got my attention like a flashing blue light in the rear view mirror. I was leading a small country church at the time. You’d think that shepherding a rural church would yield a relaxed lifestyle, but forget it. In a small church you wear a lot of hats. I was so busy running here and there that I rarely took time to slow down, rest up and simply live. I was flaming out fast, until the morning that I got up, looked at my schedule, and just about threw up. At that moment I seemed to hear the voice of God, “Come away to a lonely place by yourself and rest awhile.”
That did it. Although I felt a little guilty with so many places to be and so many people to see, I cleared my calendar, fired up my old pickup, let the dog jump in beside me and headed for the hills. We hiked up into two mountain lakes that day and I returned home physically exhausted, but mentally refreshed and spiritually rejuvenated. Ever since, I’ve made it a priority to set aside one day each week for personal renewal. Although this blots a valuable day off my schedule, I find I’m able to accomplish more and better work for others in the time that remains. And just as important, the quality of my own life has catapulted.
How about you? When was the last time you took some time for yourself? You might think it’s selfish. But I don’t care if you’re a busy mom, a dad, an executive, a teacher, a writer, a pastor, or a little league coach: if you don’t take time to fill the glass, you won’t have anything to pour out to refresh the lives of others.
The “to do” list will always have more on it than you can do. Dirty dishes will always pile up in the sink, work will always be there, and the lawn will always need mowing again. Forget about it for a while. Give yourself permission to slow down, rest up, and live.
So what is it that fills your tank? Go do it. Take a hike, read a book, watch a movie, take a nap, go to a ball game, whatever. How about a day off? As Dr. Laura Schlessinger would say, “Go do the right thing.” It’s the right thing for others, and it’s the right thing for you. Slow down, rest up, and LIVE.
But wait, there’s more! I’m interested in your thoughts. You can send me an email, post a comment right here online and more –
Do you like to daydream? I caught myself daydreaming at my desk
recently, or rather, reminiscing on some past pleasures of my life. I smiled as I remembered when I had a boat, a 24’ cabin cruiser aboard which I spent many lovely days plying the protected bays and harbors of the San Juan Islands of Washington State. Ah! Those were the days! I thought to myself, missing the sea something awful now that I live hundreds of miles away in the mountains of Montana.
About that time an alarm went off in my head.
“Self,” I said to myself, “What are you doing living in the past?”
There is danger hidden in some memories. A memory can be an insidious enemy that drifts lightly into our minds, enchanting us like a feather floating on the wind, all the while robbing us of the present and the future. We can get so caught up in memories that we forget to live in the present, and sometimes even pass on the future. We can become like old men feeding pigeons in a park, mindlessly passing time until death draws a curtain over life.
I do cherish my memories,especially as I’m now in my sixth decade of life. I’ve been a lot of places, seen a lot of things, and done a lot of
stuff. I think I’ve lived well, and would have few regrets should I receive a bad report from my doctor. But I’ve come to realize that there’s a whole lot of livin’ left to be done. And life may have saved the best for last.
I write mostly to my older readers today, who like me are standing in the shadow of mortality. Far gone are the days of youth when I thought I was bullet-proof. My body howls at the things I demand of it. If I take a six-mile hike, I’ll pay for three days (although I’ll do it anyway). I used to survive on five or six hours of sleep a night and brag about it, but now eight hours of solid sleep is one of life’s great treasures. And so it’s tempting to fold my hands in rest, leave the mountains of life to the young bucks, and toss a few crumbs to the pigeons. Until the challenge of what yet may be serves up a better plate than that of stale, past pursuits. Until I think of what can be, what should be, what must be.
I’m reminded of those who accomplished great things in the Indian summer of life.
At 60, playwright and essayist George Bernard Shaw completed the play, Heartbreak House, thought of by many as his masterpiece.
At 70, Benjamin Franklin helped draft the Declaration of Independence.
At 80, British-American actress Jessica Tandy became the oldest person to receive an Oscar for her performance in Driving Miss Daisy.
In his 80s, the Biblical patriarch Caleb sought permission to make his home in the hill country of the Promised Land, where the enemy still held strongholds. “Perhaps God will be with me,” he said, “And I’ll drive them out.”
“Perhaps…” Perhaps is a good word. The 16th century French Renaissance writer Francois Rabelais once said, “I go to seek a great perhaps.”
What is your “great perhaps”? What would you attempt if “perhaps”? What would you try? Why not find out? Beats feeding pigeons in the park.
Grow old along with me!
The best is yet to be,
The last of life,
For which the first was made.
But wait, there’s more! (I’m being facetious, but there really is more). I’m interested in your thoughts. You can send me an email, post a comment right here online and more –