Sylvia's Journal

I woke up with ‘hen-of-the-woods’ on my mind and body, after a restless night, no doubt induced by this mushroom the size of a cauliflower that grows at the bottom of oak and beech trees. We ate one last night and now I am wondering whether that was a good idea. Tessa and Steve had invited Dave who rents a room in Val’s house to have dinner at ours on the eve of the start of his chemotherapy treatment. He has a medical device implanted into his throat so that his speaking is slow and the sound of his breathing magnified. Sometimes it sounds like a fan. He’s Axel’s age, we think, and has children and ex-wives living elsewhere. Dave is a sort of Renaissance man. Trained as a marine biologist he also is a mycologist, lab technician, geologist, gemologist, miner, quartz crystal collector, high school science teacher and science entrepreneur, oh, and he meditates and hardly ever sleeps. He is the one that focused the powers of the universe so that Steve got a ‘sorry, you did not get the job’ from one place that made room for a ‘yes, we’d love to have you’ from another. Steve starts his new job tomorrow at a lab that is part of the BU medical center, thanks to Dave.

Dave missed the left turn into our drive way, it was dark already. This is how he found the mushroom. He can spot mushrooms (and probably gems) when no one else can see them; much like the African wildlife park guide can see animals where we, ordinary creatures, only see grass and trees. He showed us the tests he does to make sure the mushroom is good and fresh. With the wet weather we are having laterly, mushrooms thrive and this one was not even a day old. He brought his mushroom bible, a well used out-of-print book, translated from the original Italian with exquisite drawings and short entries of where and when he found a mushroom like that and how he prepared it (if it was of the edible type). Our adventure last night will no doubt be entered in the book.

He sliced, washed and fried it in butter, oil and some garlic, sprinkled later with flour. Then we sat down for dinner, chicken cordon-blue that Steve had already prepared served with home grown French fries and string beans. It was a total leap of faith on our part to add the mushroom to the menu. How often do you eat a mushroom offered by a stranger?

After dinner Dave showed us a quartz crystal that looked like a small skull. It was about the size of Axel’s hand, one of the smaller ones in his collection. I know something about crystal skulls because of my accidental viewing of the latest Indiana Jones movie, but Dave assured us this one was natural, not made by extraterrestrial intelligence, like Professor Jones’ skull. There were more amazing stories about competing for mushrooms with a large moose along the Kangamangus Highway and the abandoned mines that are hidden in New Hampshire public woods and where he finds his treasures when no one is looking.

You couldn’t have orchestrated a dinner like that if you’d tried. Before we went to bed Axel looked up the mushroom we had just consumed – maybe something I should have done earlier – it is edible alright, but has been known to cause diarrhea. Indeed, and, I would add, lots of confused dreams, none of which I can remember.