One of our family favorite cottage activities is hunting for morels. Paul’s family cottage is in at Chesley Lake in Ontario. Every year we head out into the bush and look for these elusive little lovelies. Most years this is more of a hike through the forest with empty bags still stuffed in our pockets when we return home. But we never give up the hunt, because we know they’re out there. One year while Paul was golfing, I went out with the girls and made the biggest haul ever, maybe 10 morels. I took pictures of them, enlarged and placked them, and put them on the wall. Reminders that these little treasures exists, and that I was along for the big haul.
Until last summer. Kier took a couple of her friends up to the cottage. She introduced them to the usual morel hunt, not expecting to find any. They hit the mother load or all morels. Paul was along and took dozens of pics. Had the roles been switched I would have done the same. I’ve narrowed the field of gloating shots down to a few. So my record of ten is now surpassed, no, shattered. I suppose a billboard will follow.
Looking, looking…
They found one.
Ok, more than one…
Ok, more than I’ve ever seen in my life…
That’s a stupid amount of morels. They had a feast to be remembered.