Morels, Poke Salat and Woodchips

Spring 2004

My frien’s, I have been informed (several times) that I only wrote one epistle in 2003. Pointing out that there was also a Christmas letter was quickly refuted with, “You don’t put stuff in there that you put in your epistles! You clean that one up.” So to paraphrase a famous commentator, “here’s the unpurged version of the rest of the story”.

By the time I get around to sending this out, it will be spring. In spring we see the arrival of two wonderful Ozark edibles. Last year, I eagerly awaited the news, “the morel mushrooms and ‘poke salat’ are up.” All of you are familiar with mushrooms and some of you will have tried the portabello and shitake (each of which is better than the common grocery store mushroom). But, how many of you have tasted the wild morel? Now, Diana and I are pretty good at sharing (well one of us more than the other) and trust our spouse to divide fairly equally, and don’t worry if one got a little bit more. But, when it comes to morels, we both stand there and divide them exactly as to number and size (no trust involved).

My frien’s, poke is a different story. First, let me advise, this plant is quite poisonous in its adult form. But, unlike morels, it is quite abundant (parceling out is not a problem). When the first tender leaves pop up it is extremely tasty and only somewhat dangerous (at least it is non-fatal). Last year we had several meals of poke. But it is advisable not to be greedy with this stuff. It cleans you out better than anything the medical community prescribes. I have my colonoscopy in the spring and have been thinking of recommending poke as an alternative to “go litely” (which I have pointed out before is grossly misnamed). But poke’s timing is a little unpredictable and, therefore, requires judicious scheduling of travel the day after consumption.

I had forgotten both don’t be greedy and watch the timing. I was in the Bass Pro Shop (similar to LL Bean or Cabelas) the “day after.” Now, when poke begins its second stage (first being mighty fine taste, second…well here’s the rest of this story). They say the Lord looks after idiots, drunks and fools! Well, I had not been drinking... Anyway, I was not too far from the nearest “facility” when the poke started “working.” I wasn’t running. Neither was I lollygagging along. Barely made it to the rest room. Looked around wildly. Only a “two hole’r (southern term for upscale restroom).” But, the Lord continued to provide. Both holes were very upscale with seats, partitions, flushed and were unoccupied!

As I sat wondering how long I would have to stay (poke works thoroughly), I was startled when the restroom door banged open. Someone rushed into the other stall. It became obvious that he (I assumed) too had been watched over by the Almighty (one hole still open).

Finally, I heard, "damn poke.” I started laughing.

"It ain’t funny," he grumbled, "I just barely made it in here, praying all the time that it wou’n’t be full."

"Me too and for the same reason. Maybe prayer does work," I mused.

Silence. Had he been offended by my reference to religion? Then, "Shore hope they ain’t been no one else eatin’ poke. There ain't no more room in here."

The Lord did provide. Apparently, no one else had been eating poke. We were not rushed. Like I said, poke salat is thorough. But, this facet does offer an opportunity to make new friends, unexpectedly. So, we discussed everything from morel mushrooms (poke was not a preferred topic) to world politics before we concluded that it was safe to rejoin our spouses. Failed to get his name, but left with the safe knowledge that I would meet him (or another poke salat aficionado this spring).

Safely through the second stage of poke salat, I saw the humor in the whole situation and tried to share it with Diana. As my brother Richard is fond of saying, “You can tell that the Lord gave women one of our ribs and not our funny bone.” Now that I think about it, this could lead to great fame, I may work on developing a diet program. After all, Dr. Atkins is gone. Someone needs to step in there with a weight loss program.

Turning to the subject of Divine intervention, I took an interesting test on beliefs the other day at a site I found on the internet. There are a series of questions to answer concerning basic beliefs and then it lists various religious groups who share your viewpoint. The results were very surprising. I would have been shocked (as would most of my friends) if anyone had suggested that I had much in common with the Quakers. Yet, they were listed as my first alignment. Must have done something wrong in the questionnaire. Took it again. Same result. What the hell (speaking religiously) is going on? I thought Quakers were rigidly locked into an archaic belief pattern. Then I went to their web site. Amazingly, my beliefs are in extremely close synch with theirs. But, I don’t know about attending their services. The Friends (Quakers) worship in silence and speak only when they have something to say (I often have something to say) and about the only thing that is unacceptable is argument (I have been known to defend my viewpoint). I related the conjunction of my belief with the Friends, to Diana, noting the two problem areas. Pointed out that I could overcome these minor bumps on the road to religious serenity. Really, I did not intend for this to be humorous. But her reaction (laughter) indicated that I may have to drop back to my second (by a decimal point) alignment which seems to be more accommodating anyway, Unitarian Universalists. Well, they don’t want you to fight, but, they will let you talk. Hey, its basic structure seems to be summed up by, “welcome my friend (a Cajun can relate to this), join us, and keep your own path to a relationship with the All Mighty.” Ran this past the yardstick (Diana) which measures my ability to change. Well, she did indicate skepticism rather than uncontrollable laughter. Does that indicate possibility?

Which brings me to my association with serpents. Confirming suspicion among some concerning my beliefs about organized religion. Diana and I were relaxing on the porch, last summer, and heard baby birds in an opening on the roof. I stated that I was not looking forward to cleaning out those nests. That afternoon I went back out on the porch, glanced up at the location of the bird nests and saw a black wire hanging out. I started cuss……uuuuhhhhh, “discussing” the birds for dragging one of the wires out of the hole. Then the wire moved! I realized that it was a black snake, answering my unstated prayer, and assisting me in removal of the offending birds. I turned and walked back toward the door to tell Diana of my fortuitous relationship with serpents. Then, I saw two more along a ledge at the top of the porch. All three were black snakes (known for their elimination of rodents and other snakes). I watched as the three gathered in the center of the porch, thinking a fight was starting and someone was going to get eaten (that would be a sight to behold). Not so, the reason they were ignoring me is that they were interested in survival of the species. Diana did not put quite the same terminology on my observation of the process as I would have preferred (mentioning voyeurism). I answered that this was scientific, not historical, and had nothing to do with French explorers. She said, “Well, you got most of the letters right.” Anyway, I look forward to a long and happy relationship with many of their progeny and fewer rodents and such. Although there was a downside when Diana offered to assist me in cleaning my shop and found one sleeping in a box she was curious enough to open. Her wonder (expressed vocally) at finding such a rare treasure scared hell out of me and the snake both. I hope he is not so offended that he just leaves.

I continue to work at woodcarving. Now and then I get lucky and a piece ends up giving me some level of satisfaction, but never looking like what I started out to carve. Imagination always outstrips ability! But, fortune sometimes smiles on those who continue to stumble along. I sold a couple of carvings this year. The money, although appreciated (helps support the habit), is secondary to the fact that someone liked my work enough to actually purchase a piece. One went so far as to commission a piece (money guaranteed before seeing the final product). Now that’s trust. But I found that I do not like carving on a schedule. From now on, I will follow in the steps of the real estate industry. When someone wants a carving, I will give them first right of refusal, when it is done (no predictions as to timing).

The most difficult aspect of producing a carving is painting. I continue to work diligently (OK, when forced to do so to finish a carving) on this aspect of the craft. But, sometimes, the carving part remains extremely frustrating. A carver that had been at it for a number of years told me that there is no such thing as a “master carver.” Oh, we might master one aspect or type; but, we remain a novice at most of the rest of the art. The full impact of this was illustrated by something I read in a carving magazine.

A carver was sitting on a bench, carving on a wood block. A passerby walked up and started watching.

After a few minutes the carver was asked, “What are you carving?”

“Wood.”

“ No, I mean what are you making?”

“ Wood Chips.”

More than a little frustrated the watcher made a final attempt, “What will it be when you are finished?”

“A whole lot smaller!”

My frien’s, the time has arrived for me to end this epistle from Paul and go turn some big chunks of wood into little chunks.