They reported on the news a few days ago that
the first chanterelles (Cantharellus
cibarius) have appeared in the southern parts of the country so I and my
daughter decided to go to the nearby forest to check the situation.
We climbed
the rocky hill where I saw some late specimens last autumn when I was collecting
winter mushrooms (Cantharellus
tubaeformis) but there was nothing to be found yet. However, it is nice to
ramble in the woods every now and then if only to enjoy the forest scents and admire
the wonders of nature.
There are some open areas on top of
the solid rock hill and in the middle of one of them was standing a lonely old
dinosaur of a pine tree. The lizard-like roots seemed to be clinging on nothing
but a thin layer of lichen and moss on the rock. Yet it had survived even the
fierce storms of last December – that unyielding mule-head alone on top of the hill.
When I climbed down the hill I
noticed another pigheaded old freak. A tall silver birch (Betula pendula) had grown at a 45-degree angle and branched into two
separate tops rather far from each other like a wide fork. Last year’s storms had
toppled several old spruce trees around the birch but the stubborn thin lady
had escaped having survived many a year in the shadow of the spruces.
The two dinosaurs made me think about the one living under my skin. It keeps appearing and I hate it. Why is it that even though you recognize it, sometimes you just can’t control yourself and things start to escalate? Why is it so hard to bend in the little things even if you know you will never be expected to yield or turn a blind eye in the really important ones?
The two dinosaurs made me think about the one living under my skin. It keeps appearing and I hate it. Why is it that even though you recognize it, sometimes you just can’t control yourself and things start to escalate? Why is it so hard to bend in the little things even if you know you will never be expected to yield or turn a blind eye in the really important ones?
My mother was a stubborn
old dinosaur but my father was nothing like it. “I can’t help it. It’s in my
genes”, is such a lazy explanation. Instead you should simply state, “Sure I can change.
At least half of me is totally different.”
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