We had several big forest fires here last summer — and while all that smoke and destruction was awful, in the wake of a fire, come the morels. Morels. Yummy, yummy morels.
I went up last weekend and only found a few. Eight, to be exact. Here they are: 
And then on Monday, the MH went up and found the big pile in the first picture. We’ve had three warm days since then, and I plan to go back out on Saturday, when I don’t have to work. It’s a big burn, and if things don’t dry out too much, we should have more mushrooms.
I love mushroom hunting. I got really sick in graduate school — ran a low-grade fever on and off for three years — and it was mushroom hunting that cured me. Mushroom hunting gives one a chance to hike really slowly; to get outside and look with care at exactly what is in front of you. It’s like meditation, but not so hard. And the dogs like it — they run big doggy circles around me — smelling birds and rabbits and other woodsy creatures. A good day all the way around.
