Schroomalicious Love
I came to mushroom hunting in a time in my life when I needed to be quiet and examine my world, un-interrupted and up-close. It was my fix for a while. My give-in-and-let-go. It wasn't cool. It wasn't sociable. It was odd that I gravitated to it. I was working a busy life, full of city and people, while living in a very small town in the PNW and not really noticing the disconnect. In retrospect, it was a perfect soundtrack to what I needed at that moment. I don't recall how I ended up spending my every free moment in the woods, walking at a snail's pace and noticing the way moss grew, the way wood rotted, the way the tree canopy gave way to light and growth. In those days, I rarely ate the mushrooms I gathered. That wasn't the point. It was more romantic. I would collect every mushroom I could find, regardless of its culinary value. Carefully I would document details about where I found it, the substrate it was growing in, ...
