by Brady Raymond
I keep reminding myself that things are cyclical, not necessarily circular but, more likely some form of a distorted oval. Yes, the seasons make their rounds but, they do it differently from year to year. Some seasons, bucket loads of mushrooms are brought in by almost anyone that glances way of suitable habitat and yet other years you scratch by the best you can. All of this is overlaid on a 3-D geography interacting with weather systems both worldly and cosmic.
Why are some year’s seasons stellar while others kind of, well, meh? I like to think it is everything else in life, but it is likely that my own distractions shielded the mushrooms from my lustful gaze. Maybe my brain wasn’t fully tuned into them this year, maybe I need to find new spots altogether, maybe the last Morel to have ever existed has been picked, put into a basket and taken home to be eaten by some newbie undeserving of such a tasty forest treat. Oh, the horror if that were to be true. I did, however, find enough this year to feed well upon, and I am thankful for all that nature has provided me, yet I still I want more, more from a season that seems to be breaking fast.
The season this year seemed to be a steady beginning, but no grandiose pinnacle was reached, at least for me. It was just a hint of the golden years, not all that far back, on the edge of my mind’s obscurity. Soon enough though, I hope to experience a repeat of my bountiful past.
Other hunters seemed to fair well in the burns this year. I myself did not visit any and thus haven’t much to say on the subject of fire Morels for the season. The last time I was out, over the Memorial Day weekend everyone seemed to find a few but only a couple folks hauled in much. A couple of nice Porcini showed up at camp though, one being rather large and despite its weathered looks on the outside, it was white and of good flesh inside.
So maybe the season is over and I have a whole year to slog through before I can get back on the track of Morels, at least its summer (unofficially). I have my garden to tend too, a couple of weekend trips to look forward too and hopefully a long season of motorcycling. At least the end of Morel season brings with it warm weather, long days and lots of BBQing.
The question always is, “Are there any more Morels left?” I’m sure there are somewhere in Washington and there probably will be for a while yet to come, the real question is how many places do you know where you can get enough elevation to find them, or how far North do you want to drive. You may have to settle for some little brown mushrooms and if you’re lucky maybe some bug-free Porcini.