food from the woods

I love my garden. I do. But nothing makes me happier than wandering into the forest and collecting my supper. I feel grateful for every nettle leaf, every precious mushroom. I pick them with a mindfulness I often forget to conger in the garden, and that is even more rare when I'm piling produce into my shopping cart. But here in the woods my heart is filled with thanks to the plants and the woods and all of this great creation.Each morel, cool and alive in my hand, is something to be cherished. I hold them out with glee to show my family, call excitedly when another one is found. Back home I lay out the mushrooms carefully to admire how strange and unique they each are.

I cook them simply (butter and garlic for the morels, a simple soup for the nettles,) and they become a feast. We eat them with gratitude and appreciation, exclaiming over the incredible flavours. After this glorious dinner, the preschooler wakes from sleep crying for more mushrooms. We understand. We cook the last ones up in the middle of the night and feed him at a table lit up by candlelight, our forest bounty served up like something holy.