Such an unlikely passion ù it took me by surprise one exuberant fall day in the Sierras some ten years ago. It came from nowhere and fills my days and nights with visions.
Unlike most people who dread the wet wintry days, my passion rises as I wait for the amazing world in the woods to emerge. Mushrooms are coming!
Saturday morning finds me up early as I cast off the work week and rush out at first light to where the air smells of pine and fresh earth.
The morning is surreal ù swirling fog and streaks of light, endless expanse of ocean and rolling hills ù this is the California that fills me with delight. My destination is a jewel of a state park with rocky coastline and acres of mixed forest. The odd-shaped rocks by the ocean fire my imagination. They appear as giant morel-like mushrooms standing watch as great waves crash, sending white foamy spray into the sky with a sound that washes me clean of all stress. I am free as the birds soaring over my head.
Moving to the woods I walk slowly, head down, eyes alert to every mound in the dirt. I scan the duff, stooping to touch and pick and smell. I love it all, but my heart leaps when I spot the red- brown cap and the stocky stalk pushing majestically up through the dirt ù this treasure, this king bolete, is for me alone and I relish the moment of discovery. Joy and excitement pull me on to discover more secret hiding places. I see a glint of gold in the dry oak leaves and rush to uncover dozens of perfect chanterelles as they flow down the hill like a golden rivulet with me tumbling after them, laughing.
What colors I spot ù oranges and golds, pinks and reds, midnight blacks, stark or translucent whites. I see the traces where deer, chipmunks and slugs have feasted. Viscid, smooth or velvet soft, all cold to the touch, the fungi emerge to disperse their spores by the billions. I sniff each find and sometimes catch traces of sweet ù almond, anise, cherry ù or strong smells, like phenol, garlic, shrimp. Most smell like fresh dirt or some other familiar but unnameable odor. I sigh, this little world has captured me.
When the light fails, I find I have walked all day and not even noticed time passing. Tired and happy to my core, I watch the last light play over the ocean as I drive the snake road home. Still cherishing my treasures, at home I lovingly clean and cook for hours. My heightened aliveness continues into the evening.
As I crawl into bed, I feel peaceful, calm and happy beyond words. Visions of the day dance in my head. Thank you, Nature, you always leave me refreshed, renewed and eager for more!
(Anna Moore, MSSF member, was the recent recipient of the Eric Hoffer Essay Contest, a $1,000 award for this essay.)