Post 3319: Gifts

I’ve been having a strange time of it lately. I am out of the post-illness slump of March – back in the gym 4 days a week, walking in the mornings, eating properly and all that – and yet, I find myself strangely uncoordinated, at odds with the world, and mildly depressed most days. I expect it’s hormonal, that I’ve entered another phase of this journey through perimenopause, and that I should adjust my HRT in some way – but I’m holding off a bit to see if its just a bit of depression that will lift on its own.

In the meantime, I have cancelled some activities in order to ensure I’m not prolonging this state by draining my energy, and I will continue to uncrowd my life over the next little while to just give myself some space to rest and work on the garden and in my studio. That’s really the only place I want to be right now, in the lead-up to a bit of summer journey-ing and parties and so on.

On Thursday I went for a walk to clear my head after work, and as I walked, I let my feet choose the direction without thinking about it too much. Up I went into the neighbourhood above ours, across, and then back into the forest on my way towards home again. It was a beautiful day, and I ran into no one as I walked (two cyclists who passed me at one point, and that was it for people – in 5 km – this is one of the things I love about living rural).

As I came down through a drainage area, I stumbled across what might be the largest trove of oyster mushrooms I have ever seen in one place growing on some logs which had fallen across the trail at some past point. Trail fairies had cut the logs on the trail to keep it clear, but the remaining dead wood was left on either side – creating a perfect fruiting environment.

It was truly a moment that felt like a gift, my funk had already been lifting as I walked, but the discovery of the mushrooms felt like the delivery of a message – the surprising capacity of the natural world to deliver wonderous moments, even in places one has been a hundred times before.

I had no way to collect the mushrooms in the moment, and so I took one along as I continued my walk, noting that the mushrooms had colonized many logs in this one small area and that there were so many that foraging some would not be a problem.

So, yesterday morning I did just that – rode back on my bike to the spot which was not far from my house, and collected about 5 and a half pounds of oyster mushrooms – which was only a third of what was there.

Afterwards I cycled home, picked some walking onions from the spring garden, and made the most beautiful lunch omelette for my partner and I before soaking and processing the rest of the mushrooms for the freezer.

Though I walk in the forest often, I do not do much in the way of mushroom hunting or foraging. In the fall, so many spots get picked out, and I don’t have nearly enough time in my life to get into the woods the way true foraging requires. This discovery though was so evident, right on the trail, it was surprising that no one had harvested before me – perhaps because no one thinks about mushrooms in the spring? Or because no one who passed them recognized them for what they were.

In any case, it felt as though the forest was offering something to me on day when I needed a little left, and I thanked the Gods of the forest as I harvested and ate these beautiful gifts.