Spring at the Lake

I took a break this past weekend from the stressors and to-dos of my day-to-day life, and accepted an invitation to join some friends at their second home at Stockton Lake.

Friday was a lovely day for a drive down to central Missouri. The redbud trees have finished blooming, but the dogwoods were in full flower. The sun was shining, highlighting the blush of green in the treetops, the sky a brilliant blue. What's not to like?? I rolled along without trouble and without stopping, the dog quietly napping in the back seat the whole way there. We arrived in the late afternoon, and our hosts, Diane and Gary, greeted us with open arms and smiles. 

I hauled Sylvester out of the back seat (he refuses to try to jump in or out of a car), set him on the ground, and by all appearances, he soon decided he'd landed in paradise. So many new things to smell!! There were friendly dogs to meet, a pecking order to establish, multiple rocks to pee on. No tugs on the leash to pull him away from an intriguing scent, a huge area to explore at leisure, extra willing hands to give him pets when he checked back in to see if the people were doing anything interesting. Life was good.

Saturday morning found us hiking in the state park across the lake. Since we had no company on the trail, I set him free to roam at will. We meandered happily along the trail, the people keeping an eye peeled for morel mushrooms along the way ('tis the season!), the dog ranging ahead and behind as his nose called. 

To my pleasant surprise, he never got too far from us - he kept an eye peeled for our progress along the trail; would wait when he got too far ahead, scurry to catch up when an especially appealing scent had him lagging behind. 

And, and. Diane's eagle eye spotted four of the elusive morels. Now. For one of the finds, I was walking next to her as she shouted a cry of delight and pointed to a promising specimen. We stopped, and as she pulled it up, I scanned the area to see if the mushroom had any friends. 

Nope, nothing there. Nothing that is, until Diane pointed out a second morel in the area I'd just looked over. I'd have sworn it hadn't been there a moment before; I'm pretty sure it manifested itself out of the leaves after my gaze passed, just for her. It's the only logical explanation.

She is a master cook as well as an experienced morel hunter, and for dinner that night, I got to enjoy the delicate taste of morels for just the second time in my life.

A second long hike on an equally beautiful Sunday morning capped the weekend's relaxing activities. (Sadly, we found no more mushrooms.) Sylvester and I headed for home shortly after lunch. He plopped into the back seat, tired from the morning's exertions, and slept all the way home. I was pleasantly tired as I drove, more centered than I'd been when I arrived just 48 short hours before. 

Thank Goodness for welcoming friends, good conversation, laughter, and time with Nature. It was a healing reprieve, time to Stop. Breathe. Relax. *happy sigh*