The morning began with a rainbow.
I fed the pigs.
And noticed that Wendy’s kids ought to be weaned.
A muddy morning seemed like a good opportunity to carry some scrap metal in for recycling.
Then I spent some time in the woods, searching in vain for morels, known here as “hickory chickens.”
I’ve been looking for them every April I’ve been here. And I’ve still never found one.
Even though I came home empty-handed once again, the quiet time in the woods was nice. That kind of foraging causes me to go slow and pay attention to my surroundings and the things at my feet.
I should do that more often.