The Lucky Mushroom of Gladness

So, it's that time of year again. You know, the time when the trees bloom, the daffodils and tulips rise from the dead and morel mushrooms make their appearance. I've been driving myself crazy hiking through the woods, grubbing around in the dirt, digging through leaves and poking snails. Last night I had an interesting encounter with three deer who were staring at me through the trees as I stared back. I wanted to run up and give them a hug but I didn't want to get kicked in the face or worse. However, I'm not having a very good mushroom year. Which really makes me grumpy.

Okay, let's be clear, mushroom hunting is a very healthy activity. Hiking up ridges and down into valleys is definitely a good cardio workout. Bending and crawling through brush is kind of like strength training. And swinging my walking stick around definitely makes me feel like Chuck Norris so what could be wrong with that?

The truth is, I really have a severe mushroom obsession. It's sad, really. I dream of mushrooms regularly throughout the year and come the end of March I begin to mentally salivate over the elusive morel. I honestly can't say what it is. I don't eat that many at a time, but I long to find the "mother lode" so that I can freeze them and have mushrooms with my dinner all year long. I will literally spending every waking moment I'm not at work conniving at ways to find my precious treasure. Last night I drove 30 minutes to my "secret" spots in the woods and came away with 2 measly mushrooms. I threw them on the counter with a careless air and my youngest beastlet squealed. "You found some!" I said, "Only two little ones. I think I'm going to throw them away." He put his six-year-old fists on his hips and said in his sternest voice, "You are not! I will eat them!" Morels really are the mushroom gold at the end of the rainbow. I guess even two tiny morels are a treasure.

This past weekend we hiked around Cuiver River State Park. It was a truly lovely day. We saw wildflowers like Bluebells, and Dutchman's breeches and many others I don't know the names of. Sugar Creek was filled with water due to recent rain and we played in the riffles. But all day I was a Grumpy Gus. Where were the mushrooms? I simply could not find them. We ate our lunch by the spring and then climbed through tick infested brush. Yes, I did say tick infested. Bleh. And I couldn't find a single glorious mushroom. We were trudging along and I was grumbling and grousing when my little guy said, "Hey! I found one!" And he did. He also found most of the others. We found 20 tiny mushrooms and you would have thought that would make me happy. Alas, my fowl mood lingered. I need a 6 year old to help me find morels. What does that say about my hunting skills?

So here we are at Thursday and I'm worrying the season is almost over. And it's pathetic really. Why do I place so much of my self worth in how many morels I find? Why does it matter if I find 20 or 2? I have more fun playing in the woods and catching snakes, frogs and turtles in the spring than I do all year! So there it is... it's time to stop moping and start celebrating. I am counting my many blessings and thanking God for beautiful Spring days and the prospect of a lovely summer. No more cold air and lots of sunshine is coming my way. And that's all I have to say about that!

Except where's my morels mushrooms?!