I love springtime in North Carolina, but each year in May I long for those days I knew in Indiana which meant the annual family tradition of mushroom hunting. Here's my reflection as found in my book, "Seasons in the Garden." -
"Remembering Springtime in Indiana"
When I reflect on springtime in Indiana, I remember morel mushrooms. Hunting them and enjoying them in various culinary forms was a long-standing tradition in my family. My mother was the foremost morel aficionado, but one spring Mother couldn’t go mushroom hunting. After having surgery, she was recuperating at home. No scurrying off to the Hoosier woodlands to hunt the rare cone-shaped mushrooms, which have a short growing season. For Mother that was a real hardship; mushrooming was her gift.
Every year we kids would trail along, fanning out in different directions, searching in proven breeding grounds—patches of mayapple, rotting stumps, and fallen elm. But it was always Mother who called out suddenly, “Come see what I’ve found!” And in an unpromising pile of decaying leaves, half-hidden, would be precious honeycomb morel spikes peeking out.
I didn’t understand all the fuss. “Why can’t we just plant them in our garden and save the trouble of hunting them?”
Mother smiled, explaining that these mushrooms were special, sent by God to delight us. “He chooses where they grow.”
That spring, Mother longed to go mushrooming, but instead, she puttered listlessly in the garden. One day, while she was watering the tulips, I heard her cry, “Come see what I’ve found
There among the flowers I spotted something familiar—a morel! Soon we spied several, growing where they never grew before—and never did again. Mother couldn’t go to the mushrooms, so God sent them to her. I often think of how God blessed Mother with her heart’s desire that day. He delights in giving us such blessings when we delight in Him.
"Delight yourself in the LORD, and he will give you the desires of your heart." - Psalm 37:4