the little marvels of mysterious wonder

Grumble, grumble, grrrrr, grrrr.....does anything work out like it is suppose to?! Darn tractor( still cute but still broke down) , darn truck- thermostat went out of it. Mustang that I rarely drive, sits in the shed all pretty like- flat tire, dead battery when I finally do decide to take it out for a spring fling. Disgruntled customers, IRS, heartless bastard attorneys, oops...kind of sorry for saying that, but not really...

I mean truly- what's a good hearted woman to do but grow gray hair and grin & bear it?!

Ahhhh, you had to know this was coming. What is the surest way to bring me around, make me jump with ecstasy and dance for joy??!! The mother of all best things in the world- the little marvels of mysterious wonder have arrived!!!

First mushroom of 2009- in the bag.

Pretty good camouflage and the old gray mare, she ain't what she use to see!

Small mess and bag of stinging nettle for a good blood elixir.

(Go here for more of my mushroom lingo and terminology...)

Ahhhh...sitting by the pond and wonderin' what I was all keyed up about.

Wandering back to the farm under the big evening sky of April in Illinois.

A Mess

Good morning to you all...it has been a while since I wrote. My head and heart can't always decide on what is important to share here, so...let's talk about those wonderful morels a bit again, ok? OK!
I have had a cold, or hay fever or whatever- enough that allows me just enough energy to work but then rest after work, no mushroom hunting(which requires a loooonnngggg walk, hiding behind trees, etc. until I get to THE place). Uh-hummmm, sorry- had to clear my throat- so yesterday, Sunday to be exact- I still should have rested, done paper work, watched movies...but of course, I had to hunt. As I was walking to said patch, this song came into my congested, hazed head:

Where the shrooms are-
some morel waits for me
where the shrooms are, where the shrooms are
Where the shrooms are, some morel waits for me....

You know that song, if you're beyond 30- Connie Francis I think. Anyway...these are the things that float through my head sometimes. Mushroom hunting is a dreamy-like situation...like falling in love. You do stupid things, say weird stuff, change the lyrics of songs to fit your fantasy, speak in tongues kind of- to other shroom hunters. I've created a terminology of sorts, some examples I've heard over the years:

A Mess: Enough mushrooms for you and your family if you can't convince them that there is a really good movie on somewhere, or that all mushrooms are poisonous. Use it in a sentence like this: "Yep, got a mess yesterday- family is going out to a show so I'll just have 'em for supper so as not to poison the family, in case one of those mushrooms is a pecker head*(see below)."

*Pecker Head: Well, yes there's that...but! A false morel, or a mushroom that resembles, well, yes that...the children love to hunt for mushrooms if only to find one of these and say it over and over, loudly squealing with laughter and also to share it with hard hearing grandma later so they can go through the exercise all over again, even louder till grandma gets it. (And then she gives the mom, always the mom- the evil eye in allowing the children to say such things...when it has been grandpa all along who taught them such crudeness and encourages this behavior with other "curse" words as well. Such as when mom leaves the children with grandpa, thinking he'll impart the wisdom of the ages, instead he teaches "hold your tongue between your fingers and say ship.")

A Fairy Ring: A mystical circle of mushrooms...when one finds this, one stands back in reverence, calls to all the other hunters in the area- heads are bowed, and someone says, "Don't that beat all...amen."

"If that was a snake it would have bit ya.": A statement you don't ever want to hear in the woods when you're mushroom hunting with your nearly blind grandmother of 90, the shame associated with realizing your standing atop a mess and didn't see it till grandma pointed it out will haunt you for years.

Spores: Something to do with leaving the root of the mushroom where you found it and using gathering bags with holes in it so as you can spread the spores throughout the woods for more mushrooms next year.

Tourist: Bloodsuckers,biters,chiggers, ticks...Use it in a sentence like this: "Make sure you use plenty of that dope or you'll have every little tourist in the woods comin' home with ya."

Dope: A toxic spray, gel or powder that is applied all over the body and clothing to prevent ticks, chiggers a/k/a tourists- from traveling up your pant leg to suck your blood and/or give you the nastiest little itch you've ever experienced.

A Good Patch: A location that is never disclosed, and rarely shared with another unless they are blindfolded, spun around ten times till they're darn good and dizzy and sworn to secrecy by making them share an unholy secret that you will post in the morning paper should you ever find them in your good patch. Used in a sentence like this: "So you got yourself a good patch, where is it?" "In the county." "In this county?" "Maybe."

Take care.

fourteen in all

LOOK!!!!


LOOK AT THIS!!!!

FINALLY! I FOUND ONE, I FOUND ONE!!

SO BEAUTIFUL, SO DELICIOUS, SO DELICATE

SO INTRICATELY MADE AND FAMOUSLY ELUSIVE

SO VERY VERY VERY.....










............tiny

Fourteen in all, the little mushrooms I found yesterday afternoon. I delivered eggs to a local bar after, thinking I had bragging rights on finding mushrooms. Nope. When they're that tiny people just laugh, and not even behind your back...to your face! Well, I showed them- I went home and fried my teeny weeny mushrooms in a teeny weeny smidge of butter with a little teeny weeny bit of flour, and they were scrumptious. It was worth every bit of crawling underneath the briers and picking ticks off afterwards...I'd do it again and again. Maybe this afternoon...

Take care-

respite in the wood

It is an earlier morning for me, woke up around 4:30 instead of my usual 5ish time- coffee in hand, tea brewing. I think too much these days of all I have to do, and yet when I get off work- I find myself compelled to walk to the woods. Spring is happening everywhere, but especially in the woods- it is erupting daily with good news. Stinging nettle is about six inches high now, the brambles of blackberries reaching two feet and ferns are beginning their slow roll to bushiness. I've looked and looked for the little greys, the mushrooms- haven't found a single one yet, but the night temperature hovered around 49 degrees last night, so this might be the day. That will be my excuse for this afternoon's adventure- high of 73, a warmer night, lots of sunshine, plenty of moisture- I wouldn't want to miss the morel's mysterious pop ups any time now. As I sat on a log yesterday, ever so still- still enough to allow the Spring Peepers to cautiously once again begin their love songs to one another, their chorus filling the air- I thought of words I might convey to express my love affair with the woods. I'm not a good enough writer- can't express well enough what a little bit of woods can do for my wondering soul. The green there, this time of year- is of the brightest quality, it's the kind of green that has a fragrance that mixes well with the rot of old logs- a musk and a freshness intertwined. The trees all around- cottonwoods, river birch, ashes, the three sisters (my favorite respite in the wood)- are bulging with buds that are brimming with the fuzz of life, and soon- the leaves will erupt and make their music with the wind. Then my little bit of woods will become a vibrant symphony, an amphitheatre of noise that plays a newer song- every day.

I placed my hand on the earth several times yesterday, checking her temperature- cold and damp, though feverish in the sunny spots. I looked all around and under every brier bush for the yellow painted turtle that I have met in the past every year at this time. His absence should tell me quick enough that he is still slumbering, not out looking for mushrooms yet, he is wiser than me. But I am hopeful, rushing the time the space and the place where I will likely find the mushrooms, the turtle and I are often at odds over who will get the first one. So, in a nutshell- my excuse for not getting done in the fields what should be done, although I have exerted much energy on the less windy, warmer days in planting- I don't want to miss a thing, a growth, a sound. (And mostly, a mushroom.)

Take care and enjoy the day...