The healthy forager

This week marked the arrival of the Snowy Waxcaps. They’re getting increasingly rare, as one of their habitats (mossy, poor quality grass) is so often forced to make way for concrete carparks. Thankfully, in our neighbourhood there are a few patches left:

I’ve picked a few and have placed them on our own grass, to hopefully spore and procreate.

Yesterday I went out to Durris to explore a wood I hadn’t walked in before (but cycled past hundreds of times). On the way, a very reliable patch of Hedgehogs filled my foraging bag:

Deeper into the wood, I was lured down a track by something intensely white that caught my eye. I worked my way through low spruce branches to get a closer look… And what a sight! As beautiful as they are deadly, a long avenue of Angel’s Wings stretched out before me. With fruiting bodies like ghostly white tongues, these are strictly for admiring and photographing.

Amongst this deadly collection were some very friendly porcini that popped up to say hello. I picked them (oh, how my new knife loved it!) for John to cook his delicious risotto later this week.

On the ride home I passed a basket of cooking apples and a sign above it read “please help yourself”. Despite our shed being stuffed to the hilt with apples, this was an offer I couldn’t refuse. As I was picking out the biggest ones, suddenly I heard a voice from the other side of the hedge: “Apple tart tonight then?” A mannie appeared and I asked if the apples were from his tree – apparently not, but he did have a walnut tree! My eyes must have popped out of their sockets with enthusiasm (either that or I looked hungry), as the mannie quickly offered me a few handfuls. Yes please!

Loaded with produce I arrived home, and boy, what a spread:

The title of this blog is ‘white things’, and there’s one last white thing I’d like to share with you. It was our 12th wedding anniversary this week, and John and I dressed up for the occasion. Foraging is not going to make you fat, so the dress still fits 😁. We had a photo session in the garden, me barefoot to feel connected with my beloved earth.

John and I explore this planet together. We share a love of birds and of trees. We ponder the majesty of it all and can get totally absorbed in observing a group of ants breaking down a mueslibar crumb. We are aware of how small we are and how insignificant within the bigger picture. But for this moment, my time on this Earth is made more valuable because I share it with my very best friend.