I make breakfast. Coffee, without a proper pot, is made by adding grounds and boiling water to a 1.5qt canning jar and waiting for the grounds to sink. A hillbilly french press. It is a surprisingly fine strong brew. The main course are spelt flour waffles made with duck eggs that D has brought up.
We hike back out to the lower beach, but in the reverse direction that we took yesterday. Our first stop is to photograph SK's installation of woven grass. The weavings are now sprouting new growth and we need to photograph the changes. A and D notice some trees of importance. They have found 3 oaks (or were they maple?) planted in a perfectly straight line and not far away, 4 very overgrown pear trees. We are not far from were an 1890 map shows a homestead cabin and I will need to map this area at some time, if for no other reason than to force myself to closely examine it.
As we head up river toward the north fields, we detour into the cedar grove where A had installed some artwork. We spend quite a while in here. I explore the old cedar stumps. A hunts fungi. D is a newcomer and takes in as much as she can. Everyone looks at everyone's discoveries. This spot never fails to please. I even find a level spot where I can pitch a tent someday.
When we head up river, I spot the witness trees that mark the odd intruding corner of public land - two aluminum plates. We rest when we get to the most upriver river bank, a place where a logjam has rammed itself into the bank and where the restoration crew set in larger cottonwoods in the event that the river tried to cut in here.
The three of us have not stopped our discussion except for the all too short 5 hours of sleep last night. I made no art today, but I probably have made art many days ahead. I hope my friends have the same luck.