Out in the rainy mist, looking for lichen, fungi, and moss. Kissing the boy.
We’re walking in the Gousty woods and meadows on a misty, moisty morning in May — when it occurs to me that there is no place I’d rather be.
My brother, the expert morel mushroomer, leads the way.
As soon as the cousins see Grandfather digging in the garden, they surround him with love and curiosity. He is a child magnet.
Asparagus! We planted it three years ago, and harvested our first handful of spears this week.
“There’s no good work in the world that will not break your heart.
So it can be a tremendously good thing, a blessed thing, to remind yourself that heartbreak is actually a normal phenomena of any dedicated, sincere human path.”
— David Whyte
(The Puff Ball mushrooms, down in the woods. 10 days after we first discovered them.)
Autumn officially begins tomorrow. And today I felt the season shifting. There was a change in the air. The sound of the birds. The scent of the evening garden.
Ellen wore her baby zucchini in the ergo on our morning walk. “My baby was born without legs or arms,” she informed me. “And it was a little green. But other than that, it is perfectly healthy!”
Maybe Uncle Chris can help us identify these mystery mushrooms?
One of my favorite parts of our homeschooling mornings is walking together. It’s such a simple thing. Walking outside calms Wallace; it grounds me in the day; and centers me with the girls. We take the same route most days and every morning we notice different details along the way: plants and creatures, mushrooms and moss, flowers and seed heads.
Walking in wild places is the simplest, clearest way for me to remember what is most essential.