There comes a time, once a year, when some people lose the ability to socialize and become quite secretive. It’s a time when brother won’t speak to brother and son to father. People drive clear out of their way to make sure no one is following them before they go do what they do. It’s a time when a man is more likely to give away his secret fishing hole than he is to talk about this.
That’s right, it is Morel Mushroom season! Normally, for this latitude in the Northern Hemisphere it comes the week after Mother’s Day. But when the weather conditions are right, it can come sooner than that. We’ve had the warm weather; we’ve had the precipitation, and so this morning I went to the place I like to hunt.
I had to wander around the forest for a while before I recognized a landmark. Having done so, I quietly and slowly crept towards the spot where we always find them. About half way there, I was greeted by one, no two, three, four, a whole passel load of morels right on the trail in front of me! I worked my way around the immediate area and picked 20+ morels in one spot!
I continued on and after two hours I had 47 gray Morel Mushrooms in my bag. This feat is only magnified by the fact that I am color blind and instead of spotting them out right, I have to look for and find the pattern and then put my hand behind them to really distinguish whether or not it is what I am after.
After two hours I was covered in sweat from crawling through the thick underbrush even though it was only 55 degrees out and decided I had enough. I made my way back to the vehicle making sure no one was watching me, and then came home.
Today for lunch, we will be dining on Morel Mushrooms!