This Friday I heard the peacocks honking and crying and it was only slightly different from their everyday communication so I looked outside. Standing in the middle of the field near the dance floor in the rain was a fairly large greyish red fox staring right back at me. I ushered the geese back into the barn, ran around the front side of the house and past the garage to chase him off the property. S/he didn't move at first. We just looked at each other. It's hard for me to feel anything but love for such a beautiful creature. But s/he has already eaten or killed enough of our family so I had to act. I have to try and show my dominance over this area of land. Eventually, s/he ran down the to the creek and into the bushes. I looked down at the grass beneath my feet and didn't quite believe my eyes. I saw a single morel mushroom between the blades of grass . . . then five . . . and then I followed the trail to the stone wall in front of the garage . . . there were tens of morel mushrooms!
Morel mushrooms basically never grow in the same place twice so it's always a little bit of a miracle to find them. In our case, this is the second time we've had a batch on our property that we know of. A couple years ago they popped up all around the mill stones under the elderberry trees. But a friend of ours from the neighborhood--an avid forager--was permitted to take them all home. Of course, we were invited for dinner. But this year, after all that we have gone through with our property, I felt it right to forage them for ourselves.
Pascal cooked a beautiful meal with a creamy bourbon sauce, tagliatelle pasta and filet from Gloria and Julius.