For the last several years almost every spring I travel with my family to visit my Uncle Brian in Wisconsin to hunt for Morel mushrooms. Yes, I love their unique taste and cooking them in a less then gourmet fashion but I love the hunt most. Spending time with Brian and seeing my Grandma “Toddy” is chief of the joys. Nonetheless, chasing down these elusive and mysterious fungi is great fun. This year we covered several miles and spent a couple of hours without seeing one morsel. Nada, zilch, zip!
When we were nearing the end of the day and the last stop just north of the town of Merton by the ice age trail we decided to forgo the hunt by the pond as we noticed a piece of land that has always been productive remained. I say remained because it was our understanding that the gravel quarry nearby, one that my Grandpa Jack once owned and operated as a part of his construction business, had taken this stretch of land and gobbled it up and spit it out to make roads and buildings. Alas, we were wrong and strip of forest was still there.
I had a sense of peace and happiness as I walked among the forest draped in filtered sunlight. There was hundreds of white Trillium in full blossom carpeting the forest floor. Some of the Trillium had turned to pink which is how they fade – from the purest of white to a soft blush red. At once I saw a nice yellow morel which was the first that size and stature of the day. I parted a stand of May Apples and saw two more. As I got more excited I saw that there were many more. Brian experienced a similar find just about twenty yards northwest of me. Our journey was a lesson in perseverance as it was not till the very end of the day that we found our treasure after hours of scanning the country side for these tasty and elusive fungi.
