My Dad started me hunting mushrooms when I began to crawl. Being low to the ground like that, I never missed a mushroom. I've been hunting them ever since. Occasionally, I'm still crawling; possibly up the side of a canyon because I spotted a couple morels near the top. Or maybe across a log over a swollen stream because I saw a patch on the other side.
But as the years go by, I begin to wonder: will this be my last year to hunt? My back tells me I'm getting older, but my brain says, "No, you're not." Alas, one day it will happen. I won't be able to go mushroom hunting. What a sad year that will be for me.
You all remember the poem, "I Must Go Down to the Sea Again" by John Masefield? The title is actually "Sea Fever", but it's best known by its first line. I've copied John's idea and written my own poem about my last hunt.
I must go up to the hills again, to the towering hills and trees.
All I ask is a mushroom patch, and me on bended knees.
A sunshine day, a thrasher's song and me still a picking.
With life not rushing me along and the clock not a ticking.
I must go up to the hills again, for the call of the gypsy wind.
For April in our corner is the call of an old friend.
All I ask is a mushroom patch, and me picking for hours.
With Dutchman's Breeches, Sweet William, Violets and all the woodlawn flowers.
I must go up to the hills again, it may be my last climb.
All I ask is that mushroom patch and a field sparrow's chime.
Just one last huge patch, who could ask for anything more?
Let memories linger in that patch, when my mushroom hunts are o'er.
Thursday, May 6, 2010
Friday, April 30, 2010
THE MYSTERIOUS MOREL
As soon as the warm, wet days of spring arrive, our family's favorite sport is not baseball, turkey hunting, or crappie fishing. It is hunting the morel mushroom.
Now I realize most everyone is this area are seasoned mushroom hunters, but I've decided to give away some of my secrets about the mysterious morel.
There are preliminary preparations to ready yourself for mushroom season. After being holed up through our long, cold winters, you have to regain your mushroom legs. You need to start a walking program long before the big hunt. After all, you may have to walk for miles to find a morel. It's possible you may have to scale a 40 foot bluff because you spot a couple of morels near the top. Or you may have to walk a log across a swollen creek because you sighted a patch of morels on the other side. So it's important to be ready for the aggressive hunt.
Of course there are the "still" hunters. These folks walk to a preferred location, sit on a log, and wait. You need a good ear for this type of morel hunting. As soon as an ample supply has popped through the leaves, the hunter simply picks them and goes home. However, sometimes, this could take all day long.
Some people hunt with a mushroom dog, which points and barks when he finds a patch of morels. These dogs are certainly handy to have, but I've noticed they are shy around people other than their owners. A friend of mine hunts with a dog, but I've never seen Duke in action.
I found this excerpt in "The Journals of Lewis & Clark": "Jun 19th, 1806, (Peter) Cruzat brought me several large morels which I roasted and ate without salt, pepper, or grease. I had for the first time the true taste of the morel, which is truly an insipid, tasteless food."
I believe if the boys would have had some our local cooks prepare them, they would have enjoyed them much more.
I had a cousin(from Florida) once tell me one of her relatives found a mess or morels, and they were full of bugs. I immediately was astonished and told her how hard that was for me to believe. All the time, I was wondering to myself, "Did she not know why we use lots of pepper on morels when we cook them?"
I don't know how many states have morels, but I know they can be found in Arkansas, Tennessee, Missouri, Kansas, Iowa, Nebraska, Michigan, Washington, Idaho, and Alaska. Wouldn't it be fun to pick them both day and night in Alaska?
If anyone ever needs a mushroom guide, just give me a holler. I'm always ready to go. I'll dig out my decoys and my favorite mushroom call.
Now I realize most everyone is this area are seasoned mushroom hunters, but I've decided to give away some of my secrets about the mysterious morel.
There are preliminary preparations to ready yourself for mushroom season. After being holed up through our long, cold winters, you have to regain your mushroom legs. You need to start a walking program long before the big hunt. After all, you may have to walk for miles to find a morel. It's possible you may have to scale a 40 foot bluff because you spot a couple of morels near the top. Or you may have to walk a log across a swollen creek because you sighted a patch of morels on the other side. So it's important to be ready for the aggressive hunt.
Of course there are the "still" hunters. These folks walk to a preferred location, sit on a log, and wait. You need a good ear for this type of morel hunting. As soon as an ample supply has popped through the leaves, the hunter simply picks them and goes home. However, sometimes, this could take all day long.
Some people hunt with a mushroom dog, which points and barks when he finds a patch of morels. These dogs are certainly handy to have, but I've noticed they are shy around people other than their owners. A friend of mine hunts with a dog, but I've never seen Duke in action.
I found this excerpt in "The Journals of Lewis & Clark": "Jun 19th, 1806, (Peter) Cruzat brought me several large morels which I roasted and ate without salt, pepper, or grease. I had for the first time the true taste of the morel, which is truly an insipid, tasteless food."
I believe if the boys would have had some our local cooks prepare them, they would have enjoyed them much more.
I had a cousin(from Florida) once tell me one of her relatives found a mess or morels, and they were full of bugs. I immediately was astonished and told her how hard that was for me to believe. All the time, I was wondering to myself, "Did she not know why we use lots of pepper on morels when we cook them?"
I don't know how many states have morels, but I know they can be found in Arkansas, Tennessee, Missouri, Kansas, Iowa, Nebraska, Michigan, Washington, Idaho, and Alaska. Wouldn't it be fun to pick them both day and night in Alaska?
If anyone ever needs a mushroom guide, just give me a holler. I'm always ready to go. I'll dig out my decoys and my favorite mushroom call.
Monday, February 22, 2010
SACKS
I dreamed last night I was finding morel mushrooms. They were at the edge of a timber. No, I can't tell you WHERE. But they were everywhere. This made me realize it's time to start saving sacks for mushroom season. You need lots of mushroom sacks. Plastic bags from Wal-Mart or the grocery store work nicely. Yes, I know they tell you to only use mesh bag to carry your mushrooms in, so the spores can scatter as you walk. Have you ever tried toting a mesh bag through gooseberry bushes, wild raspberry vines, or those long vines with exactly one million, six hundred thousand, seventy six hundred and three stickers on them? Besides, you'd lose a lot of bugs through those sacks, and we all love them fried golden brown. Plastic bags are bad enough to rip open, so carry plenty of spares in your pocket.
No matter where you go during mushroom season, you need to carry mushroom sacks with you. If you're going to have fish at the Harvest on Friday night, you need to take mushroom sacks along. Do you know how many dead trees there are between here and Hamburg?
One year, I saved a king size mattress bag. It was fun to fill that sack with mushrooms and take photos, but I don't recommend dragging it up and down ledges, across creeks, and through brambles. When it gets full, it's mighty heavy.
So it's time. Start saving those sacks. One year, I washed a load of clothes, and found 4 sacks in it when I took it outside to hang them up. It was a load of pajamas.
Well, when I dream about finding mushrooms, I need sacks to put them in, don't I?
No matter where you go during mushroom season, you need to carry mushroom sacks with you. If you're going to have fish at the Harvest on Friday night, you need to take mushroom sacks along. Do you know how many dead trees there are between here and Hamburg?
One year, I saved a king size mattress bag. It was fun to fill that sack with mushrooms and take photos, but I don't recommend dragging it up and down ledges, across creeks, and through brambles. When it gets full, it's mighty heavy.
So it's time. Start saving those sacks. One year, I washed a load of clothes, and found 4 sacks in it when I took it outside to hang them up. It was a load of pajamas.
Well, when I dream about finding mushrooms, I need sacks to put them in, don't I?
Thursday, January 7, 2010
THE RIDE
I always said I wanted to go up in a hot air balloon ride before I died. Everyone knows how scared I am of heights. Why would I even think of such a ride? But I took another ride I'd never dreamed I do.
One day, last summer, I was coming home from Rock Port and the transmission went out of my car. I had enough speed to pull off the road and park it. Then I walked.
Pretty soon, a guy I knew came along riding a motorcycle. I thought, "I'm not getting on that thing."
But I did.
I said,(as I climbed expertly on this hog) "Where do I hang on?"
"You don't." he said, "Unless you hang on to me."
Hang on, I did. I'm sorry about the claw marks in the midriff. Those should heal up in a couple weeks. The broken ribs, however, may take a little longer. You did tape them, didn't you?
It was that corner we took. I swear, it was on two wheels. I yelled, but I guess he didn't hear me.
What a ride... out in the wild blue yonder, the wind blowing in my hair, and me clenched to this guy's sides.
You could have knocked Tom over with a feather when he saw me riding up on that motorcycle. He almost acted like he didn't believe it.
Say, when is this Sturgis thing anyway? Do I need tatoos?
One day, last summer, I was coming home from Rock Port and the transmission went out of my car. I had enough speed to pull off the road and park it. Then I walked.
Pretty soon, a guy I knew came along riding a motorcycle. I thought, "I'm not getting on that thing."
But I did.
I said,(as I climbed expertly on this hog) "Where do I hang on?"
"You don't." he said, "Unless you hang on to me."
Hang on, I did. I'm sorry about the claw marks in the midriff. Those should heal up in a couple weeks. The broken ribs, however, may take a little longer. You did tape them, didn't you?
It was that corner we took. I swear, it was on two wheels. I yelled, but I guess he didn't hear me.
What a ride... out in the wild blue yonder, the wind blowing in my hair, and me clenched to this guy's sides.
You could have knocked Tom over with a feather when he saw me riding up on that motorcycle. He almost acted like he didn't believe it.
Say, when is this Sturgis thing anyway? Do I need tatoos?
Tuesday, January 5, 2010
THE CELLAR DOOR
This is not an original story, but one my Dad used to tell. I thought some of my family would get a kick out of it.
Coon hunting is a lonely profession, especially if you have the best coon dog in a hundred mile radius. Nobody wants to hunt with you, when your dog can out track and out tree any dog around.
When my best friend, Wayne, called from Ohio, he informed me he'd latched onto the two best coon dogs in the state. He wanted to bring them out and hunt them. Of course, Wayne knew of Rock's reputation, so he said, "If you will tie Rock up, I'll bring my two dogs out and we'll hunt them."
I was anxious to see my old friend and was a little bit curious about how good these dogs really were, so I agreed.
Wayne drove all day and got here about dark. We ate supper and he was ready to stretch his legs and the dogs were restless, so we decided to go coon hunting.
I chained Rock to the cellar door and we unloaded Wayne's dogs and headed off into the hills.
It really didn't take long for Wayne's dogs to pick up a track and they were barking on the trail.
Pretty shortly, I hear another bay that I recognized right away. Ole Rock had broke loose and he was barking on the trail with Wayne's dogs.
"I got to find Rock and get that chain off him before he gets all tangled up." I told Wayne.
We headed toward the dogs.
It was the darnest thing I ever saw. Not only did Rock have the chain attached, but he was dragging the cellar door.
And the part that really beats it all: those two dogs of Wayne's had hitched a ride and were both sitting on that cellar door.
Coon hunting is a lonely profession, especially if you have the best coon dog in a hundred mile radius. Nobody wants to hunt with you, when your dog can out track and out tree any dog around.
When my best friend, Wayne, called from Ohio, he informed me he'd latched onto the two best coon dogs in the state. He wanted to bring them out and hunt them. Of course, Wayne knew of Rock's reputation, so he said, "If you will tie Rock up, I'll bring my two dogs out and we'll hunt them."
I was anxious to see my old friend and was a little bit curious about how good these dogs really were, so I agreed.
Wayne drove all day and got here about dark. We ate supper and he was ready to stretch his legs and the dogs were restless, so we decided to go coon hunting.
I chained Rock to the cellar door and we unloaded Wayne's dogs and headed off into the hills.
It really didn't take long for Wayne's dogs to pick up a track and they were barking on the trail.
Pretty shortly, I hear another bay that I recognized right away. Ole Rock had broke loose and he was barking on the trail with Wayne's dogs.
"I got to find Rock and get that chain off him before he gets all tangled up." I told Wayne.
We headed toward the dogs.
It was the darnest thing I ever saw. Not only did Rock have the chain attached, but he was dragging the cellar door.
And the part that really beats it all: those two dogs of Wayne's had hitched a ride and were both sitting on that cellar door.
Sunday, January 3, 2010
How Cold Is It?
You know it is cold when you throw water up in the air, and the icicles are still hanging there.
You know it's cold when you see a log chain roll under a tarp.
You know it's cold when you fry an egg and it freezes in the skillet.
You know it's cold when your hand sticks to the pump handle and you have gloves on.
You know it's cold when your nose gets frost bit when it's sticking out from under the covers.
You know it's cold when a turkey flies down from the tree and his tracks are frozen in mid-air.
You know it's cold when you turn on the shower and ice pellets come out.
You know it's cold when you bring in wood with hibernating lady bugs on it and when you toss it in the fire, they dance with glee.
You know it's cold when you see a log chain roll under a tarp.
You know it's cold when you fry an egg and it freezes in the skillet.
You know it's cold when your hand sticks to the pump handle and you have gloves on.
You know it's cold when your nose gets frost bit when it's sticking out from under the covers.
You know it's cold when a turkey flies down from the tree and his tracks are frozen in mid-air.
You know it's cold when you turn on the shower and ice pellets come out.
You know it's cold when you bring in wood with hibernating lady bugs on it and when you toss it in the fire, they dance with glee.
Saturday, January 2, 2010
The Christmas That Wasn't
All the Whats of Whatsonville
Dreamed of sugar and spice
But that mean ole grinch
started by covering us with ice.
Then the snow came
with the wind roaring along.
That piled up 20 foot drifts
and took away our Christmas song.
Winds screaming with snow blowing
Whiteouts, and visibility was low.
On that Christmas morning
Came that blowing snow.
The winds didn't cease
the snow blew around
Christmas was quiet,
no one could move in the town.
Over the weekend,
the snow it came.
And I knew it was the grinch
that we have to blame.
So the grinch stole Christmas
We still can't get through.
But Christmas is about the Christ child
And not me and you.
Dreamed of sugar and spice
But that mean ole grinch
started by covering us with ice.
Then the snow came
with the wind roaring along.
That piled up 20 foot drifts
and took away our Christmas song.
Winds screaming with snow blowing
Whiteouts, and visibility was low.
On that Christmas morning
Came that blowing snow.
The winds didn't cease
the snow blew around
Christmas was quiet,
no one could move in the town.
Over the weekend,
the snow it came.
And I knew it was the grinch
that we have to blame.
So the grinch stole Christmas
We still can't get through.
But Christmas is about the Christ child
And not me and you.
Friday, January 1, 2010
Predictions
When I was younger, 2010 was the year we all were driving around in space ships. It's here and we aren't. So, I'll just make some predictions for the coming year:
January will be balmy and melt all the snow December gave us. All 30 inches of it.
The Saints will win the superbowl. It's time for the saints to come out ahead.
"Oh, When The Saints Go Marching In."
The economy will improve so much, we will all be rich.
If any congressmen /women are up for reelection, we will not vote for them.
Pork barrels will be offered on the stock market.
Oil will plummet to $15.00 a barrel.
Kay will plummet 15 pounds this year. (Dream on, Kay)
Kay will win the next quilt that is raffled instead of Jenny. Did I mention she won the "cupcake quilt" the Watson Quilters made for the Cherished Cherubs daycare they raffled to raise money for tables they needed?
January will be balmy and melt all the snow December gave us. All 30 inches of it.
The Saints will win the superbowl. It's time for the saints to come out ahead.
"Oh, When The Saints Go Marching In."
The economy will improve so much, we will all be rich.
If any congressmen /women are up for reelection, we will not vote for them.
Pork barrels will be offered on the stock market.
Oil will plummet to $15.00 a barrel.
Kay will plummet 15 pounds this year. (Dream on, Kay)
Kay will win the next quilt that is raffled instead of Jenny. Did I mention she won the "cupcake quilt" the Watson Quilters made for the Cherished Cherubs daycare they raffled to raise money for tables they needed?
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