My First Time

Everybody remembers their first time. I was 28. It was springtime and the smell of lilacs filled the air. He knew the time was right. My boyfriend wanted to bring me hunting for the elusive morel mushroom.

We drove out into the country, down some windy gravel road, and just seemingly randomly stopped on the side of the road in the middle of nowhere. We got out and so we walked into the woods… And we looked… And we walked… And looked… And walked… For hours!

Finally, he stopped and it went something like this…

Him: Do you see anything?
Me: Uh… Nope.
Him: Look around!
Me: I DID!!  There’s nothing here.
Him: What about that? (pointing a few feet to my right)
Me: What?
Him: (Walking closer and pointing to the ground) That!
Me: (In what I’ve been told is a strong Minnesota accent) Ope!! Jeez, what the heck? Where did that come from? THAT’S what we are looking for?? Do they grow in like 2 seconds?? Cuz it definitely wasn’t there when I looked.
Him: And what about that one? (pointing about 8 inches from my shoe)
Me: Cripes almighty! This is ridiculous! I would NEVER have seen these ugly little brains. We have been out here for hours probably walking by hundreds of these little mother-lickers. I would certainly starve to death as a cave woman.

So we picked until we couldn’t find any more. Which wasn’t long. We found six mushrooms. SIX mushrooms in FOUR hours! This was not for me…

And that was it! My first time. Pretty disappointing, to say the least. But we didn’t do it again. Not until that fall, at which time I was introduced to the (not-as-elusive) Hen of the Woods. Finally, a mushroom I could SEE! And my life was forever changed as I knew it. I was hooked!!