I first noticed the mushrooms in our suburban neighborhood when my spouse and I were out walking our dogs. Fascinated by the multiple varieties that peppered the yard and tree bodies in our suburban neighborhood, we would cackle at their absurdity of them amongst the manicured lawns. But outside of making me smile, and wondering at their mystery, I did not fully pay attention to them until I got pregnant, gave birth, and started taking my daughter on our walks. 

With my daughter in tow, the walks were a way to pass the time. Kansas winds, the rocking motion of my body, combined with her snuggled close to me in the carrier, soothed both of our souls as we learned each other, and the terrain around us.

As she grew older, she climbed down from my back and began to lead the walks. Asking questions, being still, and noticing things that had not yet made themselves apparent to me. She developed a deep fascination with mushrooms and our daily walks became forages. Together, her and I, gathered gentle life lessons from the mushrooms which I wanted to share.

Patience

Even when we can’t see them, mushrooms are beneath the surface of the earth, patiently waiting for the right moment to sprout. There is a lot to be said for working hard, biding your time and fruiting at the right moment.

 Not everything is for you

By observing mushrooms and not touching them, we learned the value of stepping back and appreciating something beautiful and interesting without having to pick it up or own it. This one is important to me, in our busy colonialist, consumerist society, that we remember to only take what we need and harm none.

Cycles of Life

The damp weather of spring heralding the tops of the first white mushrooms (Amanita bisporigera). The withering of a mushroom body in the brutal heat of summer. The snow-covered ground where the mushrooms lay dormant under the soil. My daughter remembers where they sprouted even under the mounds of snow and looks for them to come back when the weather warms up. In this she learns that where there is life, there is death, and that is okay.

 The Importance of Diversity

Vital soil, peppered with a handful of volunteer mushrooms is symbolic of the richness of a life full of diverse people, experiences, diets, and travels. A life I wish for the both of us.

Sadness and Grief

When a mushroom doesn’t return to the same spot it grew last year, or when it shrivels and dies. A lesson in acceptance of the feelings that come with things not going as expected and honoring that.

Magic

How rapidly the mushrooms disappear, reappear, and grow-is nothing short of pure magic when viewing it form the eyes of a child, and her mom watching her discover it.

Gratitude

Foraging for mushrooms requires one to be present and observant. If it wasn’t for our walks, I’d never have noticed the bunny burrow down the street, or the mourning dove nest in the elm next to our house. I am grateful to live amongst such sweet creatures, and to watch their lives unfold next to mine.

Community

My daughter’s sweet and demanding “let’s go look for pushrooms” mobilized the neighbor kids who would otherwise be indoors with the company of their tablets to join our walks. Her contagious enthusiasm gave me a pathway to developing a relationship with my neighbors. One I knew I needed, but didn’t know how to cultivate, and our lives are so much better for it.

We have quite a few mushroom walks under our belt, with hopefully thousands more to go. I look forward to seeing how we all grow, and change, and show up in those times.