the morel of the story

For father's day this year we went on a family treasure hunt. Daddy, the girls, Bubba -the dog, and I, packed up the Subaru and drove into the mountains. Our destination - wilderness scorched from last year's severe fire season. Here, amongst the blackened ashes, charcoal stumps, and marshy ground lies our quest. The delectable morel mushroom. Why we have not gone on this hunt long before heaven only knows. Anyone who is everyone, in our neck of the woods, sets out each spring on the great morel crusade. Never speaking of their ' secret spot' except to gloat, "I have a secret spot". Our morel mad friends note, " they sell for $100. 00 a pound"! I think we thought it was the 'trendy' thing to do. My husband scorns all things trendy. I; however, don't. Morels are not easy to spot. They hide themselves amongst burned logs, debris, and water seeps, but' once you spot your first one you are hooked. It reminds me very much of fly fishing. Searching for spots that look 'fishy', or in this case, 'mushy'. Perhaps the greatest part of all is my 2-year old daughter's sheer delight in the whole mucky adventure. Armed with her orange mushroom pail, mushroom hunter knife sheath, and plastic play knife, she would stomp, tromp, and bushwhack her way to the golden spots. I am not sure if is her height, her ability to stop and see everything, or just pure luck, but she was able to find more treasure than the grown -ups around her. As for daddy, I haven 't seen him run, smile , and bushwhack with youthful abandon since before our infant daughter was born. Trendy, or not, the great morel hunt will become a family tradition. Our secret spot is..........ah, maybe I will tell you next year

~mom's the word