Ah...... memories of childhood. I remember going mushroom picking with mom and dad - seems to me I see the Ambassador Bridge nearby - I feel like it was somewhere below this bridge where we found mushrooms. I actually can still smell the wet earth and the mushrooms. Thank you ❣️ for the memories Elizabeth!
I also remember the mushroom forging with memories quite similar to yours! What I vividly recall is the delicate beauty of the small white treasures discreetly nestled in the grass. Back at home they were carefully washed and cooked in oil. In my mind, I can still taste these mushrooms that seemed to melt in your mouth.
I also remember the mushroom forging with memories quite similar to yours! What I vividly recall is the delicate beauty of the small white treasures discreetly nestled in the grass. Back at home they were carefully washed and cooked in oil. In my mind, I can still taste these mushrooms that seemed to melt in your mouth.
Wonderful! My father also foraged mushrooms in the county just outside Windsor. He and a couple of friends always went to a particular stretch of forest every Spring, just after a string of rainy days. Timing was everything and he always picked the perfect day to forage. After several hours away, a bushel of shiitake mushrooms would come into the kitchen to be cleaned and pickled in small jars, with a bunch eaten over the next few days with dinner. Unfortunately I never got to go with him and learn where to look and when; this was a trip he did with the same like minded friends every year. Thanks for bringing back those memories!
Ah...... memories of childhood. I remember going mushroom picking with mom and dad - seems to me I see the Ambassador Bridge nearby - I feel like it was somewhere below this bridge where we found mushrooms. I actually can still smell the wet earth and the mushrooms. Thank you ❣️ for the memories Elizabeth!
Yes!! I “see” the bridge too, in my mind’s eye. So many memories and things we took for granted 🥰
I also remember the mushroom forging with memories quite similar to yours! What I vividly recall is the delicate beauty of the small white treasures discreetly nestled in the grass. Back at home they were carefully washed and cooked in oil. In my mind, I can still taste these mushrooms that seemed to melt in your mouth.
I also remember the mushroom forging with memories quite similar to yours! What I vividly recall is the delicate beauty of the small white treasures discreetly nestled in the grass. Back at home they were carefully washed and cooked in oil. In my mind, I can still taste these mushrooms that seemed to melt in your mouth.
Wonderful! My father also foraged mushrooms in the county just outside Windsor. He and a couple of friends always went to a particular stretch of forest every Spring, just after a string of rainy days. Timing was everything and he always picked the perfect day to forage. After several hours away, a bushel of shiitake mushrooms would come into the kitchen to be cleaned and pickled in small jars, with a bunch eaten over the next few days with dinner. Unfortunately I never got to go with him and learn where to look and when; this was a trip he did with the same like minded friends every year. Thanks for bringing back those memories!