Though dad declared a few days back his feet hurt too much to go mushroom hunting, he was roused by what mum and sis brought back and so today I snatched G's old SUV and grabbed dad and off we went, hayyoo. I wanted to open the season by combing the 'Belfry' hill, which mum said was too crowded. (It's a popular mushroom-hunting hill indeed.) He wanted anything but, so we drove around it and then parked in a tight niche of a forest road with an ascend as steep as a wall. Dad found some, but most were old and worm-y. After an hour or so, we got on top of that ascend to find ourselves on a meadow of an old, but renovated and most adorable small farm. I was so thirsty I rang their doorbell, eh, nobody was home. According to the GPS, we were half an hour away from the Belfry top. Based on an old wives' tales, if there's thunder, schroomies will jump out, once we actually got to the originally proposed stage, we found tons of tiny, new, fresh, worm-free little penny buns, and chanterelles. Circling until I could no longer walk and carry my stacked basket, we walked and walked and walked. Then we walked for another hour plus to descend the unfamiliar hillside, taking chances on unfamiliar short-cuts or wide roads. And then I took half an hour to find the damn car. I was so thirsty (normally we don't stray from the car for more than an hour and keep relocating, so of course my bag stayed in the trunk) I nibbled on the half-ripe blueberries I could find, scarce and tiny, like a desperate goat. The air was unusually unpleasant - it was not hot at all, yet we were soaked and mosquitoes chased me despite the spray. But all in all an excellent morning. The day would have been perfect if i could have ice-cream for dinner, but I was too sleepy to insist we go out, though the yummyness of Polonca's pistachios haunts me even as I write this :D

Wrote a forest poem to go with the pickies on Insta. Just stressin' what a nice forest day it was :p