After a multi-day journey to New Zealand, 14-day quarantine, and two-week weather delay, the first new crop of people to arrive in Antarctica since February finally made it. At about the same time, the mainbody crew of summer people left the states to follow. Alas, no last-minute spot opened for me (the usual 1,000 has been trimmed to 300, and my position was cut). So, I will contrive my own version of cold, remote, idiosyncratic life. Hardly any mail, let alone packages, will make it to my guy working there, so if you'd like to enjoy the spoils of my compulsion to produce baked goods and postcards, just say the word.
It actually tastes like chicken!
The mosquitoes are finally gone and these wet woods are ideal for exploring.
While the rest of the country smolders in forest fires or drowns in tropical storms, northern Michigan chugs along with autumn's changing leaves and prolific mushroom fruiting. We've found scads of oysters, huge florets of chicken-of-the-woods, and legions of tender puffballs. Dad wants to find honeys, and it's about time to check the spot where we've found lion's mane. Mom has the sharpest eye by far, and the sometimes-sly half-smile hints she's waiting to see if we'll spot our quarry.
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