As I've waded more deeply into middle age, I've begun to rethink my philosophy on opening day. So what if you don't shoot any birds? They are really bit players in the overall ritual, the excuse, as it were, to spend time afield with your dogs and your chums.
And that's how I found myself thrashing through the shintangle of northern Michigan on opening day this year...
How I've gone this far and digested as much outdoor writing as I have and not come across this, I dont' know. What a great way to describe those messes of briars, downed limbs, and thick ferns you find out in the forest, or on its edges.
Depending on how thick the cover is, I might omit the first "n."
The beds of high grass that fill southern Michigan creek bottom in late summer could be called "chintangles."
What are some other good, vivid words for features of the outdoors?
The garlic party was fun on Saturday night. Kristine's fool moddomas (a Lebanese fava bean dip) was a hit. Our host attributed U-M's loss to insufficient garlic in the team's diet (LLoyd Carr, are you listening???).
The teacher training Saturday morning was enjoyable too, though not without a snag or two. As part of the workshop, we took some test kits to the Ottawa River to test water samples for oxygen content, nitrates, phosphates, and turbidity. A few of the results indicated that something had gone awry with the testing. We let it go on Saturday--but the incident does identify issues I'll have to deal with in my class when it gets going. I went on Saturday to learn, and I guess I did.
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