Mushroom Fever

It's the time of year when I almost give myself whiplash from braking so hard on my mountain bike every time that I see something little and yellow.  Of course, being the time of year that it is, most little yellow things on the ground are fallen leaves from a variety of deciduous trees.  What I'm hoping to find are gorgeous little chantrelles.  This is my second season actively hunting the golden fungi, and while it is still a little early, I did find a few today.

I live in a beautiful place and I am so fortunate to have such fabulous access to the forests that wind from the foothills of the Olympic Mountains to the Hood Canal.  I rode up to a beautiful view this morning, got some great exercise and happened to spy some mushrooms on my way back down.   I was thinking about how pleasing it was hear the sounds of my tires gently rolling across the gravel, the pine needles and the forest duff when I spied another little yellow thing, but this time, it was really a chantrelle.  I hopped off my bike, got out my knife and celebrated.  Then I turned around and there were a few more on the other side of the trail, almost hidden under salal and ferns.  Today I remembered that moving slower can allow us to notice and appreciate more details, like occult chantrelles.  I noticed several smaller chantrelles after I was crouching way, way down and slowly observing the perimeter of the trails.  I made a few cuts, then I smiled and gave thanks to the planet and then quickly and quietly gave thanks to the greater universe too, because who knows about origins for certain?

There were a few places along the trails that literally smelled like warm vanilla this morning.  What a delicious aroma to complement the refreshingly mossy forest smells that dominate the hills!  The vanilla leaves from the spring must be drying, because they don't really smell like vanilla until they dry.  At one point, I got a waft of a thick, sweet hormonal creature, which always makes me think "BEAR!" but I realized it was just me.  I apologized to the forest for being such a stinky human.  Tonight I will make something with the first lovely harvest of chantrelles and I may post a picture to brag.

On being born

I wonder if we choose to be born.  Do pieces of who we will be before we are born exist somewhere in the great and glorious cosmic soup, awaiting the perfect alignment of energy and mind to turn us into the matter in which we physically manifest? 

I don't know, but I love thinking about it.  And however little Alaina Grace got to this planet at this time, I am happy for her, because she is being born to wonderful parents.

Tonight

The night is happening
Get out there, be with it.
With dedication, you have learned to embrace the day.
Now venture into the inky darkness.

Night in the woods

People sometimes ask me if I get lonely living in the woods alone. The question always surprises me, and makes me wonder if I should feel lonely, because the truth is that I rarely feel lonely out here. I could say that I embrace the solitude, but when I really look at my life--between work and other non-woodsy activities, I am barely alone enough to even fully delve into the riches of solitude, let alone become lonely. So tonight I intentionally paid attention to time, space and being. I may not have the amenities of the woods forever, so this evening, after a long day in the garden and in and around Potlatch, I made a fire and then did some stargazing, which is incredibly therapeutic for those with neck pain. It sure is pretty here: at my place, the sky (when you look up on a clear night) is framed by trees. So many stars...what a beautiful universe we live in.