Poisonous fungus at The Farm

I stood with bitterlawngnome at the edge of an elongated field, like an airstrip, with forest on all four sides. The sky was overcast and dark, as at twilight. A radio voice in my head announced, "?-brand bottled water is famous for its coldness."

"That's because of a fungus that grows around the springs where the water comes from," Bill said. "It produces a chemical that makes the water taste cold. It is actually a carcinogen."

He led me into the edge of the forest to a small cave and the spring in question. The darkness glittered faintly with crystals. He dug his fingers into mud and it came up glowing slightly. The chemical formula of the toxin appeared before my eyes. It included a lot of Ps and Cls.

"I can actually smell it," he said.

I was distracted by the darkness.

"I like being in places that are so dark you can't see anything, not even your hand moving in front of your face."

Bill pointed out that this place wasn't completely dark.

"But remember the place we slept once," I said. "That was dark." This referred somehow to camping at Amber Fox in October 2003. We were instantly transported back there, but instead of a tent, we stood in a covered pit in the ground, like one Neal and I built as teenagers.

"We're too close to the surface," Bill said. "Even here I can detect light."

I noticed a skylight made with a sheet of plastic over a square hole in the plywood that covered the pit. It was nighttime, and the sky remained overcast, but the window was still faintly visible, in fact the entire board glowed faintly.

Next we stood above ground in sunlight. This farm was not really Amber Fox. There was no Faerie type gathering, the place was laid out differently, and owned by a husband and wife. danthered and another unidentifiable man had joined us, and we were admiring Daniel's black '57 Chevy. The paint was a bit faded, but otherwise it appeared in good shape.

Bill and Daniel discussed going for food. The farm was supposed to be near Richmond Hill, and Yonge Street ran right to the edge of the property, a typical nightmare of plazas and fast-food joints. My friends departed without me, the car morphing into Daniel's red pickup. The countryside swallowed Yonge Street and the place became peaceful again.

The wife emerged from the farmhouse with two small children, and I started running with them in circles on the grass.

Vanity

On the weekend Les left for Halifax, and I came down with my first bad cold in several years, so what was supposed to be a vacation has turned into sick days. This morning the congestion remains (with attendant headache), but the virus has clearly taken leave. I've been happily reclusive, making considerable progress on knitting a vest for Mom, and tinkering with iTunes.

I have 2,675 songs now. Andy Budd has written a helpful article on how to keep the collection fresh and interesting using a combination of smart playlists. His technique provides a good balance of old favourites, new additions, and tracks infrequently played, while preventing anything from being replayed too often. In addition to his suggestions, I created separate playlists for four-star and five-star rated songs in order to better control their ratio in the mix.

Here is my Top 25 Most Played list, much better representative of what I like than the one posted three months ago: ( List )

Last time I buzzed my head, the little hairs looked dark brown, an extreme departure from the blond of my childhood and early 20s. I decided to grow it in once again before it goes grey, out of curiosity to see what it looks like. It has been growing since January 20. So it is just sandy brown, same as the last time I had hair (March 19, 2001). The thin spot at the top back doesn't appear any thinner. The only difference is, the sprinkle of grey in my sideburns has started migrating over my ears.