It was a brisk May morning, the rising sun steaming the dew from the blackened hillside. A university student, a line cook and an ex executive Chef. We meet in a parking lot in Beacon Hill, one of the worst hit communities in the 2016 wildfire. we exchange introductions, pleasantries, a couple of toots of a bear horn and into the bush we go.
Morels are the name of the game.
The forest has an eerie calm to it, the faint rumble of construction in the background. The blackened pillars and columns of charred trees cut through the blue sky like the stripes of a zebra. My chest constricts as anxiety and panic set in. This is part of the reason I come to the forest, to overcome this fear.
The forest floor is greening up nicely, although its still too early in the season for much growth. there are tent caterpillars everywhere, no signs of bears, just the odd bird here or there. the forest really is beautiful, the rebirth is amazing.
We search and search with no luck. the terrain was a south facing slope with deciduous trees. It felt like it was still too early, I dont think the soil temperature was warm enough yet. And it was dry. We needed a good day of rain followed by some warm sunshine to get those little guys to poke up.
That was may 18 2017, we never did find morels that year, but we will try again this year. We did find some strange purple jellies that were very cool.
I continue to go to the forest to heal. And the forest is generous, I eat and medicate well.
Chief Farm Hand
Grow Moar Inc.