A spot of mycology

The longed for rain arrived early this morning, we had maybe three hours of a steady drizzle, which is nowhere near enough to swage the thirst of the parched earth and encourage spring to bust free. Nor nearly enough to fill the river bed of the Ser to give rise to the rapids on the rocks.

What it did do was to produce two lovely little fungi on the cut stump of a fallen tree across the lane. Attractive and luscious though they appear, the red almost ember like in the brown debris on the woodland floor, I suspect that it may not be wise to rush off and make a mushroom omelette.

I have for some time thought that I need to link up with a local mushroom collector, there is a rich tradition of collecting "bolets" in the vicinity, but I am very aware that
the village experts jealously guard their hidden seams of treasure. I have been out once with my friend Xavier but his expertise is limited to one variety (rovillons) and I am sure we discarded edible specimens through ignorance.

So my career as a mycologist will have to be put on hold until either I can find a suitable teacher, or persuade my lady wife to act as my food taster and learn by trial and error.