Morels and Bluebells

When I was a kid, my dad would take us "mushroom hunting" sometimes in the spring. We lived in a very urban area, so we'd head to a county or state park and follow deer paths through the woods looking for morel mushrooms. If we found some, Dad would take them home, wash them, cut them in half, bread them, and fry them in butter. I tried them, but in general, I never ate any. I didn't know anyone else who collected them or ate them besides my father.

Now that I live in the state that he grew up in, as well as near a small town, I see morels for sale at the cooperative grocery store for oodles a pound. The little newspapers that we get all publish stories about the "first morel of the season." They track the finds and run articles and stories about the biggest morels, the smallest morels, the most morels found by one person, etc. It's a big deal around here!

People have secret hunting locations which they will not disclose. But they do have certain tips they'll share: look for morels when the may apples are blooming. Look for morels under maple and poplar trees, etc. 

Now I own my own bit of woods. You'd think that I'd go mushroom hunting. Someday I hope to tromp through the trees with my brood and teach them what I know about hunting for morel mushrooms. But right now I simply haven't got the time.

Today it didn't matter. I went outside for a few minutes to help my son with something, and I nearly stepped on some in the lawn on my way back to the house. 

I sent my girls out to comb through the yard for more before my son mowed, but they didn't see any. Instead, they came in with fistfuls of violets and armloads of bluebells.  These are now in vases spread about the house.

On my way to the barn to tend the goats tonight I went by the pasture with the bluebells.  It was sunset, the barn swallows and goldfinches were twittering, a soft and warm wind was causing them to bob and sway. It was gorgeous. I forgot for a moment about the possible well and water issues, my daughter's tick bite, the fussy baby, and the three year old's fever. I just stood in beauty and breathed it in. And now I have my own tip: hunt for morels after rain when the bluebells are blooming.

my picks thus far