I'm talking about mushrooms, or morels.
I forget when my father first took me mushroom hunting, and like most mushroomers, he had a couple of favorite spots. As I grew older and weather turned warm in May, I'd rush home from school grab a paper bag and venture out on my own, confident in my ability to return with the treasured prize.
Morels are the easiest of all the wild mushrooms in North America to detect. Although the colors may vary, the tell-tale sponge-like quality makes them stand out. But standing out and finding them are two separate things. It just depends upon where the mushroom spores land. I remember finding a few in a small, and I mean small, grove of trees near our house one time. My dad's favorite spots were in a wooded area along a creek or the abandoned fruit farm near our home. Either spot could usually be counted on to provide the bounty we sought.
Thinking about those days brings back warm memories of the time I got to spend with my dad, whose been gone for most of my adult life. And for all the times I returned home with an empty bag, the time spent with him or by myself, searching for morels is something I'll never regret.
