Three morels in a row!
This morning, early, I headed to the morel mushroom hunting grounds determined (well, hoping and wishing) to find at least enough for tonight’s dinner. It was a rousing success! Nineteen of the beauties, some of them rather large, are soaking in sea salt for our late-afternoon feast.
After dinner I have an appointment with some of our book club members for a nature walk, so today is going to be an outdoor day all around. With some wood-splitting sandwiched in between during the afternoon.
The tiniest little forget-me-not. Let's not forget her.
Lots more blossoms were appearing all over the woods. Ducks floated on the pond. The sun shined bright in the blue sky. Red-wing blackbirds trilled their sweetest notes. I remembered to look all around instead of staring fiercely at the ground with the thirst of the hunt. (Well, at least some of the time I wasn’t staring fixedly at the dried ferns looking for the beauties poking up in between…) Yesterday, it snowed. Quite a change this morning.
Apple blossoms against a bright blue sky
On the way home (lots to do today so couldn’t just meander endlessly looking for more mushrooms or pausing swamp-side to relax and dream) I saw a small mound on the earth. Here’s the photo. It looks rather ordinary, I know. Just a small mound made of soil on the ground.
One small mound of earth
It actually reminded me of one of my earliest childhood memories about nature. My best friend Carol and I were fairly young, maybe in early elementary school, and her dad took a passel of us kids for a walk back in the woods. We were too young to be back that far by ourselves.
As we walked along, he pointed to a nondescript hump on the ground and casually said, “You know what that is?” We all shook our heads no. We didn’t know.
“It’s a buffalo grave,” he said. And then proceeded to show us small clinking white teeth from that buffalo grave, which he just happened to be carrying in his pocket.
We really didn’t believe him, because he tended to be a bit of a jokester. But we didn’t quite know. It MIGHT be a buffalo grave. Maybe all those little hills in the woods were graves of dead buffalo. It added to the mystery of the forest for years after. You never knew what this mound of soil might be, or that little indentation. (No matter that buffalo never roamed around Michigan…you never knew…maybe it was pre-glacial activity!)
Just wanted to share that childhood memory with you.
6 comments
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May 18, 2009 at 4:33 am
flandrumhill
Those blossoms are gorgeous. We have an Apple Blossom Festival here in Nova Scotia in the Annapolis Valley that is attracts quite a lot of tourists. Nature isn’t as advanced here in Cow Bay as it is in your neck of the woods. I have a crabapple tree in the yard that is just beginning to show its pink buds. They are nowhere close to being open.
Now I’m wondering what’s in that mound…
May 18, 2009 at 6:46 am
Cindy
Maybe it’s a burial ground for beavers? Or there’s a woodland fairies ballroom under it and the fairies are dancing and having themselves a fine old time? Or…or….or…..thanx for sharing your memory!
May 18, 2009 at 8:09 am
Gerry
I find it fascinating to compare what’s happening in our respective back yards. You’d think it would normally be cooler there, and that each new blossom would appear first here, but it’s not true. It’s way more complicated. Good to know.
I have found not one single morel – but then, I’m not good at it either. My son, he of the sharp eyes and shape-finding vision, will be here this week, and I’ll bet he finds some.
May 18, 2009 at 11:18 am
H. Forward
I searched “morels” and found you! I’m thankful because my life and blog has forced me to stop, explore, and be thankful for where I am right now. A suburban girl living in what I call the country…but everyone else would call it “in town.” Your photos are beautiful!
May 18, 2009 at 4:07 pm
Heemes
Is there a morel to the story?
(c’mon, someone had to say it…)
May 19, 2009 at 5:49 am
centria
Hi Amy, it seems like our apple blossoms bloomed overnight. A couple days ago there was nothing; now it’s bloom world. I love the name of your place: Cow Bay.
Cindy, I’m voting for the woodland faeries. Must be!
Gerry, yes, isn’t that often the way of it? Nature is much more complicated than we think. Our minds can’t limit it to one way or another. Generally, we’re five to ten degrees colder than you guys. But the temp changes so much even within a 50 mile radius. It can be 20 degrees colder in L’Anse than at our house on some spring days. Weird, huh?
H. Forward, I am so glad you’ve visited! Thank you. I will search out your blog at a later date (away from home for several days now). You know it took me a few years to become comfortable living out in the woods? That’s probably another blog. Thanks for the inspiration!
Paul, leave it to you! There is a moral to the morel story. Find ‘em before they die? umm, never mind! Funny fellow, aren’t you?