October 17, 2009

After the Windstorm

Filed under: Trespassing

I have an awful memory for everything except landmarks. (Me? I don't get lost. At least not when I can identify buildings, landscapes or architectural focal points. My mother joked it was my Indian genes that gave me a good sense of direction, but I blame the "talent" on two things: autistically visualizing my environment as a giant Tetris grid, and my compulsive need to constantly check my surroundings thanks to my ZOMBIE ESCAPE PLAN paranoia. <- I SLEEP WITH A MACHETE NEXT TO THE BED. SERIOUSLY.)

Sometimes when we go walking we'll discover a new spot or a new tree or a new woodland feature that we've never seen before. And while I'm busy dancing around naked (<- WELL, SORT'VE NAKED. IT'S MID-OCTOBER AND I HAVE POOR CIRCULATION IN MY FEET; I REFUSE TO REMOVE MY SHOES AND KNEE HIGH SOCKS, DAMMIT!) or foraging (while my jeans comically inch down my ass exposing WILDCRAFTER'S CRACK) or giving head Italics is busy taking pictures for me (AND - IT GOES WITHOUT SAYING - OF ME) so the spot isn't forgotten.

Taking pictures of these spots creates pictorial bookmarks for me. By committing a tree or valley or monument to a photograph I'm making a deliberate point to MEMORIZE IT so it doesn't become just another notable feature used for navigation. (<- WHICH IS BECOMING HELLA USEFUL FOR WILDCRAFTING SINCE EVERYTHING I NEED OR COULD POSSIBLY WANT DOESN'T CONVENIENTLY GROW NEXT TO ONE ANOTHER, DISAPPOINTINGLY ENOUGH.)

Occasionally we'll stumble across a new tree or mushroom or berry or plant we've never seen before, and instead of picking it and bringing it home to ID Italics takes a picture instead. Other times I just want to capture the moment, and while I know other people won't necessary GET IT by looking at the photograph, the picture has everything I need to DEAD ZONE that frozen second in time.

I suppose you could blanket all of the above under "LEARNING EXPERIENCE" - I'm intentionally attempting to learn and memorize local landscapes and ecosystems, I'm intentionally attempting to familiarize myself with my local environment and indigenous wildlife and vegetation and I'm intentionally attempting to memorize all the factors that went into that outing (i.e., the mood, the weather, what was harvested, where it was harvested, under what conditions it was harvested, any and all sexual escapes and where they took place).

((I guess what I'm saying is YES, I KNOW IT'S A PICTURE OF AN ARGUABLY UNREMARKABLE TREE THAT YOU'LL NEVER ACTUALLY SEE IRL, BUT IT'S A SEX/WILDCRAFTING/SPECIAL TREE TO ME AND I DON'T WANT TO FORGET ABOUT IT.))

Yew Tree
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There are several ancient yew trees dotted along this particular walk; this is the first one encountered. Despite toppling over ages ago it's still growing happily (if you look REALLY closely you can see the poisonous red berries dotted amongst the evergreen). By this point in the day the light wasn't fantastic so you can't see the intricate, almost sculpted twists winding the tree's trunk into a forked narwhal horn.

Yew Tree w/a Side of Ass
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My foraging basket and ass. (<- Which isn't nearly as nice as it was in summer: HERE and HERE. I MISS MY SUMMER TAN AND I MISS RUNNING AROUND NAKED. EFF HAVING TO WEAR FRUMPY CLOTHING, AND EFF AUTUMN'S SHITTY LIGHT MAKING MY BEAUTIFUL ASS ALL DISCOLORED AND SHADOWY.)

Fort
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When we go for one of our patented walks I have everything I need in a black leather book bag - camera, baby wipes, antibacterial gel, paper towels, ziploc bags, empty tupperware containers, ritual scissors, a ball of string, a craft knife, a branch cutter, jolly ranchers, a granola bar, a bottle of water and a small book on edible plants.

What I DON'T have is a pen and paper, and that's the ONLY reason why I haven't had sex in the fort above and left a "PS: I HAD SEX IN YOUR FORT" note for the current tenants.

Sex Oak
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Two people can comfortably fit in the space between the oak pillars. (<- MY ALL NATURAL B & J/#2 PILLARS!) And that moss encrusted indentation at the base of tree(s)? An organic hassock (<- THE PILLOW YOU KNEEL ON IN CHURCH OR IN PRAYER), perfectly fitting one knee while you're kneeling and giving head.

Throne Oak
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The oaks in my youth were fantastic cathedrals with majestic limbs starting beyond the reach of any ladder. It wasn't until discovering this castle walk that I finally achieved one of my lifetime goals - TO GET ON A GODDAMN OAK TREE.

But these weren't the serene oaks from my youth, these were wild and violent trees erupting from the earth like molten lava with sculpted deformities partially hidden beneath a disguise of green moss. And while I miss the silent austere of the ancient oaks of southern Wisconsin, I can't help but feel somewhat enchanted by the feral trees of Scotland - untouched, unkept and free from the bonsai vision of man.

Wildcrafter's Ass
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"I'M TIRED OF WEARING EFFING BOXERS WITH THESE EFFING JEANS. MAYBE I'VE FINALLY GAINED ENOUGH WEIGHT TO KEEP THESE FUCKING JEANS ON WITHOUT ANY SORT OF UNDERWEAR."

Rowan Beneath Oak
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A rowan tree growing directly beneath an oak. (<- I HARVESTED SOME BERRIES FROM THIS TREE FIGURING THE ROWAN AND OAK'S ROOTS WERE TANGLED TOGETHER. I MEAN IT SOUNDS PRETTY MAGIC, RIGHT?)

Tiny Dam
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Just behind the two oak trees and clump of ferns is a tiny stone wall dam, damming up nothing but mud, fallen leaves and some cattails. I'm hoping that the small water feature is seasonal and it'll be fuller - and more photogenic - in spring. (Fingers crossed?)

Unidentified Berries
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Unidentified berries now identified! When trampling through the forest we encountered a vine snaking up whatever tree it could get its tendrils on, which produced these beautiful, currant-like berries. My first stab in the dark was "WILD HONEYSUCKLE!", and, as it turns out, it is, in fact, wild honeysuckle.

Nest
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This thing? MASSIVE. Unfortunately, there wasn't anything to give a sense of scale, so it's hard to appreciate how large the nest really is. (TRY "A HOBO SHACK IN A FUCKING TREE", SRSLY.) We circled the base hoping for some feathers but didn't find anything - not even streaked droppings - so we figured the family must've moved out a while ago.

Birch Polypore I
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I'm going to be boring and rip a page out of Wikipedia and glue it here:

Owing to their texture, edible polypores are quite common, and there are no poisonous species. Some, however, have been used in ritual and for utilitarian purposes for ages; the famous Ötzi the Iceman was found carrying two different polypore species. Piptoporus betulinus was notable for its antibacterial properties. The other, Fomes fomentarius, although also having medicinal properties, was likely used for starting fires.

Two medicinal mushroom polypores in use today are Ganoderma lucidum (reishi or lingzhi) and Trametes versicolor. Beyond their traditional use in herbal medicine, contemporary research has suggested many applications polypores for the treatment of illnesses related to the immune system and cancer recovery.

In studies published in peer-reviewed scientific journals, some polypore mushrooms have been found to be useful in treating a wide variety of ailments, including bacterial infections, viral infections, cancer, allergies, diabetes mellitus, and neurological problems.
Birch Polypore II
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So far I've been frustratingly unsuccessful in getting Italics to "STICK YOUR DICK IN IT!", although - ALTHOUGH! - I've recently heard "NOT WITHOUT SANITIZER!" which gives me hope. (<- THERE'S NOTHING THAT NAGGING CAN'T ACCOMPLISH, //NOTHING//.)

Windstorm Victim
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You know that windstorm that took down my sweet corn? My corn weren't the only things lying on their sides the morning after. Walking through the oaky clearing was like walking through a battlefield - trees split down to the roots, huge limbs and branches lying haphazardly on the ground, whole trees actually uprooted exposing giant pits of unsettled dirt and rocks.

While scouting for a place to have OUTSIDE FOREST SEX we stumbled across this split tree behind a fallen oak. Growing out of an exposed tuft of decomposed leaves and dead bark was a slender seedling standing at half-mast like a little yellow flag. "OOO! OOO! MAGIC!" I said - more so now that I realize that the tiny tree wasn't growing from the roots, it actually had situated itself INSIDE THE TREE making it an epiphyte - and got Italics to remove it for me.

I'm not sure if mid-October is an ideal time for transplanting trees, but it's not like I had a choice. The slender, leafless pole's outside wedged between my peach tree and sunflowers, and I hope with A LOT of coaxing it might actually survive winter and properly take root in spring. Fingers crossed, anyway.

PS: Holy shit, dude, writing this entry? IT WAS LIKE PULLING FUCKING TEETH. I've spent almost two weeks chipping away at it - AND ONLY BECAUSE I LIKE TO HAVE A RECORD OF OUTINGS WHERE WE HARVEST STUFF (and this time around it was a huge oak limb, a seedling tree, a mushroom and some rowan berries) - so if it sounds disjointed and below par YOU KNOW WHY.