Impromptu mushrooming with Andrew Nimmo, Thursday, after the light night rains from Tuesday. How impromptu?

Ring ring. (Phone.)

“Let’s go mushrooming.”

“I can be there in 20 minutes.”

Pause for a short excited dance in the kitchen, a dash for a knife, gloves, and some paper bags. And away we went.

The mushrooms were young and fresh. We made sure to leave the small ones to grow. Nimmo kept picking up trash. There were fuel tanks and mylar balloons off the sides of the road, stray bits of barbed wire. Oyster mushrooms cracked the bark of the trees they lived in, like chicks poking out of their eggs for the first time. Golden chanterelles dotted the leaf duff.

We left with two bags of mushrooms and two bags of trash. Nimmo said he’d eaten many many mushrooms already this season — including porcini (!) found in the Santa Cruz Mountains. So, he gave the bounty to me.

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