Good weekend. We got to look after our little grandson Cooper Cash. Lisa and I were up early. Cash was sleeping in with his parents. We took off for a quick trip behind Swansea to look for mushrooms. I’m craving cream of wild mushroom soup. It is early yet – but everything is early. Edible mushrooms don’t usually appear before September. We’ve had rain, snow in the mountains and it has dipped to 4°c in the valley bottom.
We scanned the backroads where we’ve seen them in previous years. We saw six chickens – spruce grouse. I could have got them all with a sling shot or a rifle out of shells (would have clubbed them with the butt end of the rifle). We parked and hiked into the bush. Gemma and Willow ran rampant. I spotted a few dangerous fungi, but nothing edible. Lisa pointed out firewood. She found a big down pine, dry and hard, and easy. We have been neglectful getting firewood this summer. Perhaps I’m jumping the gun looking for mushrooms. She made me promise we’d come back and get it. The dogs sniffed at every hole a the base of the tree trunks.
I agreed. It’s never right to move on to another task when not finished with the first. Perhaps the mushrooms will pop when we go back for the wood. Damn I have a craving for mushroom soup . . . in front of a roaring fire!