Ozarks Flood and Tornado of ’11

Pray. Just pray. Then donate.

The people of the Ozarks are resilient, but how much more can they take? We had over 30″ of rain at our house in about a week, but we’re the lucky ones.  These pictures are our neighbors:  two boat docks and a neighborhood all within “shooting” distance from our windows.

Now the people of Joplin are devastated.  Literally and figuratively torn apart from their homes and loved ones.  A tornado touched the edge of our property about four years ago while we were huddled in the only room in our house without windows: our hall closet.   A day after the Joplin tornado, we watched as another tornado skirted the skyline, crossed the river and, thankfully, never touched down.  God have mercy on the people of Joplin.  I cannot even begin to imagine the pain. . . .

“Thanks” to flood gates, the lakes are going down while the flooding on the river commences.  Will people rebuild and repair?  You bet they will.  They say time heals all wounds and no doubt this will be the case with this latest series of disasters.

Now, please pass on some good karma and donate no longer needed clothing, kitchen supplies, etc., to shelters to help those less fortunate.  Even better, pick up a new shirt at the store and drop it in the donate bin.  Mother Nature can be wicked; this could be you.


Saturday Snapshot

Not great technically, but I took this in a moving car through
the glass window!  Love the kitschy look of old motel signs!

Saturday Snapshot

Morel Mania

aka Morel Madness.

Don’t ask me where I found them because no self-respecting morel hunter will divulge the secret spots.

I grew up in the South.  Morel ′shrooms do not exist in the south.  When I married Better Half he told me stories of the great morel hunts he experienced in his youth in NW Missouri.  I heard all about the elusive morels and how amazing they were when lightly coated with cracker crumbs and fried.  Silly man, he had me at the word “fried”!

Unfortunately, since we moved immediately upon marriage to Alaska, morel mushrooms were not to be experienced.  Until the farmer’s market, that is.  One lovely, beautiful day a vendor was selling a stash of morels he’d had shipped.  They were, to the best of my memory, $10 for a small bag.  I bought a bag, followed BH’s directions for soaking, breading, and frying.  Lovely Daughter (who’s not fond of mushrooms) and I swooned.  We were SOLD.  Unfortunately, so were all the morel mushrooms at the the next farmer’s market.  They never graced our plate again while in Alaska.

Fast forward to living in the Ozarks.  How exciting to be able to hunt morels!  The key word is “hunt.”  We found one our first year.  We found ten two years ago.  Ah, the pain and agony.

This week I literally stumbled upon a patch of them.  The freaky thing is that I had just “planted” a concrete (aka fake) morel mushroom in one of my garden beds and while walking toward BH I almost walked on a morel!  We’ve since found over 20 in this same area and none anywhere else–NONE.  Zero. Nada.  Seriously-how can this spot be the only place in the Ozarks sprouting morels?

When they hit the pan, the aroma is earthy, woody, yummy deliciousness.  I’ll leave you craving morels.  As for me, no moral dilemma–my priorities are with morels for the next few days!

Saturday Snapshot

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