A Taste of Spring

Their spongy heads are difficult see. Often they are a mound beneath wet leaves. Sometimes they are small, less than nibble size. Spring brought them to life; we were waiting.

I hunted mushrooms for as long as I can remember. The family would trek through the woods, the thicket and even drive to Michigan in search of the delicacies. Mom would soak the found treasures then roll them in flour, frying them in butter. Not a morsel was wasted. We all knew that this was only going to happen once a year. We couldn't go to the store to buy them. We couldn't go to and order them. These mushrooms would be available only once.

I envy my friends and neighbors who still live there and are able to revisit the mushroom sites each year. I miss the hunt with my parents, my sisters, my aunt. I miss the walks in the woods. Most of all I miss the exotic taste of the morels.

We have morels in Oregon. I haven't found anyone who enjoys those forest treks to go with me. However.....I did find a produce stand on the way back from the beach that carries them once a year. Last year they were hard to find so the price had skyrocketed.  No mushrooms for me.

Seems to me that I might need a drive west soon heading out Sunset Highway, heading west for taste of the days on Neff Road.

Mmmmmmm. What I wouldn't give for one more hunt in the woods and that unforgettable taste of the morels.