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, its developmental stage, the weather and any symbiotic relationships. I would dissect it and detail out the way its insides looked and how it felt, smelled, unfolded. I loved how the mushroom recycled death. It was an intimate exploration of nature and myself.
For a brief time, I was a member of a mycological society as I thought maybe I'd meet some like-minded, really neat people (a.k.a interesting single men) but soon discovered it wasn't a hot-bed for hook-ups, unless I was over 70 (duh.)
Funny thing is, the man I later met and married, loved - and craved - mushroom hunting just as much as me. He felt the pull. He loved the way we moved through the woods, together, silently. He found the beauty and symphony in staring at the ground, without incessant chatter. Our shared glances in the damp undergrowth spoke of remembering lost opportunities, of hidden truth, of searching. It celebrated the earth blooming in a perfect harmony. There was no need to explain or impress or indoctrinate this man. He got it.
In honor of the great mother and father earth (it seems crazy to not add father into that phrase, huh?) I wanted to share this awesome video so that others could be inspired, as I was, many years ago when the woods were a dark and lonesome place. (Besides the mushroom-cool-factor, the commentary and cinematography are fantastic.) Oh, and now I hunt to eat. And tonight I ate lots of dehydrated matsutake chips and they were grand.
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, its developmental stage, the weather and any symbiotic relationships. I would dissect it and detail out the way its insides looked and how it felt, smelled, unfolded. I loved how the mushroom recycled death. It was an intimate exploration of nature and myself.
For a brief time, I was a member of a mycological society as I thought maybe I'd meet some like-minded, really neat people (a.k.a interesting single men) but soon discovered it wasn't a hot-bed for hook-ups, unless I was over 70 (duh.)
Funny thing is, the man I later met and married, loved - and craved - mushroom hunting just as much as me. He felt the pull. He loved the way we moved through the woods, together, silently. He found the beauty and symphony in staring at the ground, without incessant chatter. Our shared glances in the damp undergrowth spoke of remembering lost opportunities, of hidden truth, of searching. It celebrated the earth blooming in a perfect harmony. There was no need to explain or impress or indoctrinate this man. He got it.
In honor of the great mother and father earth (it seems crazy to not add father into that phrase, huh?) I wanted to share this awesome video so that others could be inspired, as I was, many years ago when the woods were a dark and lonesome place. (Besides the mushroom-cool-factor, the commentary and cinematography are fantastic.) Oh, and now I hunt to eat. And tonight I ate lots of dehydrated matsutake chips and they were grand.
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