It is a truism, obviously, that writers should write about the things they know the best and love the best. And the thing I love the most is the outdoors. Last night before going to bed, I read the chapter "Solitude" in Thoreau's Walden, a good chapter to read during a pandemic.
Then this morning, I went turkey hunting by myself in West Virginia. The toms were uncooperative but I enjoyed myself immensely experiencing the solitude of being deep in the mountains. When it became apparent later in the morning that the gobblers were not active, I turned to looking for yellow morel mushrooms. I was fortunate to find two, which will be part of my dinner tonight. Who knows the day may be worth mentioning in a story somewhere down the line.
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