In a year when the late spring frost crushed the apple blossoms and willful and cunning raccoons killed two broods of chicks, an abundance of oyster mushrooms is a welcomed gift.
There on the dead tree the golden yellow glow of mushrooms keeps calling and offering up delicious treats. As in the immortal words of the Rolling Stones, “You can’t always get what you want but if you try sometimes, you might find… you get what you need.”
Living on the land you learn to be accepting. A friend suggested it is stoic, but that word suggests indifference to pleasure or pain and that is not the pill I care to swallow. I never want to stop feeling the magnificent range of emotions granted us. But I do welcome the ability to surf the peace that lives beneath the tides of my emotions.
And then there are the golden oyster mushrooms. Succulent and almost sweet, they combine beautifully with nearly every meal. Like finding the first eggs of the season, or pulling up garlic or digging potatoes, there’s a familiarity and an excitement that can’t be denied.
Those golden mushrooms signal a reminder that not all is lost, that among the dead and dying there is life and goodness. And when you ride the wave of acceptance and open your eyes so very much is given.
We live in a desperate time. We are ushered away from our inner solitude and are urged to chase illusive dreams of success. We’ve forgotten that being alive is the success. We’ve forgotten the earth is our garden of plenty.
We have so much to remember…
Fortunately there are oyster mushrooms for those who have the eyes to see.