Hop and Stretch

Tea: Earl Grey

Music: 21st Century Schizoid Band, "21st Century Schizoid Man"

Time: Night.

This is getting to be a habit. I went bug hunting today.

I didn't start off to do that. My son had a strings gig at a park with some decent wooded areas, so I took along a couple of plastic bags in case I was able to find some nuts (including acorns) or mushrooms.

Total forage: One edible hickory nut. The acorns were (a) small and (b) wet, and the only fungi were either (c) unidentifiable or (d) clearly not for consumption.

So, finding an area of long grass outside the woods, I spent a half-hour pursuing (and in about two dozen cases, catching) grasshoppers. They got the usual preparation, with the added step of pulling the legs off the larger ones. (Spiky, those legs are.)

In the meantime, I made a small pot of rice. When it and the bug/chile preparation were both done, I fluffed the former and stirred in the latter.

Hey, if you've only got a small amount of a good thing, you stretch it how you can.

Another Dollop of Catch-up

Tea: Blueberry

Music: Metallica, "Enter Sandman"

Time: Night.

My computer has gotten over its latest bout of being stupid. My brain's still fogged, but it's a start and I'll take it.

So, recapping (because I'm vagueing too much to reconstitute three days' worth of posts):

1. This week's forage: Apples from a tree in front of the high school. (I see this as an extra yield on my tax dollars.) Stewed six of them tonight with honey, vanilla, cinnamon, nutmeg and a pinch of ancho pepper. This would be good alongside roast pork, ham or even sausages.

2. The chipmunk needed to be rescued again, this time by my son. He came home from school and found it trapped in the drainpipe, squeaking frantically. He helped it out and it scampered away. My guess is that it thinks if it keeps getting rescued, we'll keep giving it acorns. Sorry, only the first release comes with free food.

3. Speaking of acorns and foraged apples ... I'm thinking that dried apples and acorns would be pretty darn good together in a stuffing (even better if I can get bacon into the mix).

Great. Now I'm hungry again ...

Itsy Bitsy, My Hindquarters

Tea: Caramel Lapsang

Music: Weezer, "Buddy Holly"

Time: Almost midnight.

A number of cool things happened today and tonight:

1. Not only did I get in a hike with my son, but the forage was most excellent. We got grasshoppers for supper. (Yes, you read right. We're insectivores, from time to time -- well, at least the males in the family. The females do much nose-wrinkling and making of the "eww" sound. The recipe's from Oaxaca, by way of Brooklyn.) We also got a few pounds of acorns (yep, those are edible too) and a handful of hickory nuts that the squirrels somehow missed. I'm going back next week with a big basket to get more acorns, look for more hickory nuts and fill out the remaining space with black walnuts.

2. The weekly arts outing provided much interesting viewing and conversation. Don't ask me to pick the best of the night -- as far as I'm concerned, it was pretty much a continuous highlight. (On the "latest news" front, Spencer Musser -- who opens the front room of his Columbus Park apartment as Yakamoz Gallery on Third Fridays -- now has a website.)

But the coolest thing that happened today was totally unplanned. It happened during the grasshopper hunt. My son made a grab for a likely-looking specimen in some long grass. It jumped away -- straight into the web of a freaking huge yellow-and-black spider (scientific name: Ginormis holicrapus). Within seconds, the insect was neatly packaged in silk for later consumption (and the spider had a great story for his buddies: "I was just sittin' there, mindin' my own business, and this giant sent me food.") And there we stood, repeating "Whoa ..." over and over.

Okay, so sometime my inner child is kind of ghoulish ...

Going Walkies, Part I

Tea: Mandarin Green, iced.

Music: The Proclaimers, "I'm Gonna Be (500 Miles)"

Time: Afternoon.

Just got in from another ten-mile hike, this one at Fleming Park in Blue Springs, Missouri.

The time was better, the trails largely meh. The "rougher" trail disappeared at times into long grass (always fun in tick country), and the trail to which it connected presented little physical challenge beyond the distance involved.

Plus which, the foraging opportunities were all but nonexistent. There were no wood ears to be found, the prickly pears are at least a week short of ripeness -- and the only blackberry patch we located was guarded jealously by a stand of poison ivy.

Oh, well. The two-plus hours alone with my son did give us time to talk -- and for me to reassure him that, if need be, I can still take him.

Now, I'm headed up to Kansas City, Kansas, for a walk of another sort -- the Second Friday Art Walk. And I'm wearing my "Carnivore" shirt.

There might be barbecue foraging opportunities, you know.

Tune in next time for "Going Walkies, Part II." Because this time, it's personal.

How About Them (Crab)apples?

Tea: White Grapefruit

Music: The Alarm, "Rain in the Summertime"

Time: Night.

The trip home from church tonight turned into an extended crabapple picking session at one of the local parks. At some point, there will be jam or preserves -- crabapples being pretty darn sour when eaten out of hand. I still have to pop in a few, though. Sour isn't always a bad thing.

No lectures, please. Anything on public ground that doesn't say "do not pick" is fair game. I've brought home wood ear mushrooms from a nature preserve in Blue Springs, Missouri, and cloud ears from the Arboretum in Overland Park. (Yes, it does say "No picking plants" in both places -- but mushrooms aren't plants. If there is a loophole, it must be taken.)

There's something about providentially provided produce (Yes, I do like to eat my p's) that adds an extra bit of satisfaction to the consumption.

I spent my high school years on the southwest Kansas prairie, eating prickly pears (the fruit and the pads), lambs' quarters, sandhill plums and yucca shoots.

When I was at Kansas State, a walk back from Eisenhower Hall at the right time of the year would net crabapples from the quad and wild plums and rose hips from bushes by the Student Union.

(Never thought about it, but I'm sensing a theme here.)

I've also hunted and fished, which bring their own (and equally valid) sorts of satisfaction. But it was foraging, not hunting, that kept us going back when the cave walls doubled as art galleries. Can't always find animals ... but those roots and berries and tubers are right there, if you know just where to look.

I'm pontificating, I know. I'll shut up and eat a crabapple.