Posts Tagged ‘mushrooms’

On Getting Reaped at Lammas

A friend in Poland has a small farm, and he has been teaching himself to mow the meadows with a scythe. We have email conversations sprinkled with words like “snath” and “peening,” which I know only from reading.1)He is an American expatriate, but I suppose that he has learned the equivalent Polish terms as well. […]

Bemushroomed in the Deep Woods

M. and I have been hitting the deep woods one day a week as part of the annual Mushroom Hunt. Yesterday was an odd one. Actually, the previous hunt, six days earlier, was even stranger. First, I had a full-blown hallucination of a nice Boletus edulis (king bolete, steinpilz, etc.) I walked over to the […]

Lammas, Wild Harvest, and “the Notch”

Many of the Pagan bloggers are putting up their “Happy Lammas/Lughnasad” posts. My archaeoastronomical friends who study mysterious ancient solar alignments point out that “real” Lammas is still six days away. But there is “the notch.” In 1986, when I moved to this part of Colorado, a friend told me, “Something changes around the first […]

From a Hereditary Tradition

I come from a hereditary tradition — of mushroom hunters. I remember my father the forest ranger taking me out when I was ten or eleven to look for them. It was usually raining, and I did not understand what he was seeing, but the activity was somehow important. And we ate them. Then nothing […]

A Windy Wedding Day

I conducted the fourth wedding of my priestly career (joke) today. This one, unlike the first two, might last. The bride and groom did all the work, really. All I had to do was gather the spectators and read a couple of Wendell Berry poems in competition with the west wind. The couple had chosen […]

Flesh of Earth

It is the time of year when we may partake of the sacred mushroom. Those are a puffball and a king bolete, in case you wondered.

Leaving Lammas

What was the “moment” of Lammas this year? Not a formal ritual, but walking down an overgrown logging road in the Wet Mountains, looking for mushrooms in the grey-green firs. A soft, misty rain started to fall, enough that I had to dig my GI poncho out of my pack and put it on. The […]