good times

Yesterday we went to Kenny’s hometown which is about an hour and a half southeast of here. It is surprising that even though his hometown isn’t far from the city at all, it still exemplifies heartland, small town country living.

We went there to hang out with family but also for those little suckers on the right. His family had been hunting for them for the past several days and we reaped the benefit.

These incredibly yummy mushrooms are called morels. I hadn’t heard of these until I married a country folk – its one of the perks. There are rather specific criteria to finding these little gems, and if you’re in the know, evidently you can find them around these parts too. The specificity is a little crazy though… for example, they grow for only a couple of weeks at the beginning of spring. You find them after a cool spring night after a little rain, around elms, preferably dead elms whose trunks have fallen to the ground, in a wooded area, near a river bed, facing north, standing on one foot, bending over touching the ground with your elbow, tongue hanging out, wearing Birkenstocks, etc. etc.

Last night we ate the mushrooms and lots more with the whole family out on my mother-in-law's screened in back porch. There was a cool spring breeze and the scent of pending rain. As it grew darker, a storm started rolling in. There is something beautifully appealing about being out in the country on a night like last night.

And then we went home. And it was good to be back.