COLUMN BY:
Melissa K. Norris
Homestead Living SPRING FORAGING
SOME KIDS HAVE MEMORIES of family vacations, going to theme parks, or road trips to the beach. Not me. Growing up, we didn’t take family vacations because my father worked all year long. However, we did go morel mushroom hunting. Foraging was a term I learned long after I learned the art of it. Every spring, we would anxiously wait for the tell-tale signs that morel hunting was ready to begin. They usually pre-date the pasture, so on our way to feed the cows, we’d take advantage of the ever-lengthening days this side of the winter solstice and set off into the woods. While unofficial, it was a contest to see who would spot the first morel. I’ve always been a tad competitive, but it was many a year until I was the first to best my dad. We’d set off under the cottonwoods, my hand in Dad’s as we climbed over downed logs and brush to reach them. “Now sis, watch where you’re stepping, you’re as likely to step on one before you see it. Look under the side of the cottonwood with the longest branches, there’s always one side with longer ones than the other. The morels favor that side.” Here in the Pacific Northwest, morel season is from the first of April to mid-May, depending on the weather. If we dry out too soon, the season is cut short; but oh, for those few weeks, we hunt and dine on morels like kings in a castle. And if you’ve ever seen the prices in stores, you’ll know I’m not exaggerating the kings in a castle part. Little kids enjoy Easter egg hunts, but, to me, mushroom hunting is better than an Easter egg hunt, and it’s one I never tire of. Though I’ve often wondered if I would enjoy them so much if we could have them all the time. Is it really the flavor, or is it because it’s so rare?
PLAIN VALUES MARCH 2023
31
