It was a set of simple instructions that really opened things up for me.
“For the next two hours, go out into the woods and collect anything that looks like fungi and bring it back for identification”
I stepped lightly in the woods, but the leaves still crunched under my weight. There was no trail to follow, at least not one made by a human. Mouse, rabbit, squirrel, deer, fox, and coyote all knew the way. The sun shone through the canopy, highlighting swaths of understory. It was a perfect day: in the mid-70s and a light breeze. I started looking for anything that caught my eye. It was like an Easter egg hunt with mushrooms--red, yellow, white, orange, and brown all placed in my basket. They came in all different shapes and sizes, from small fans to golf balls and umbrellas. Some had caps and some caps had gills. Some had trunks with collars around the neck and some didn’t have trunks at all. There were half-eaten mushrooms on the verge of collapse and ones freshly peeking out of the ground. I went slowly, changing position from standing to survey and getting flat on the ground to look inside a decomposing trunk. There was fungi everywhere! So many bright colors and funny shapes that commanded my attention in that moment, how had I not seen them before? Time to sit and ponder.
My cell phone rang. My grandpa’s name scrolled across the screen. “Lora, what are you doing?” It’s the way he always starts a call, which often causes me to give an unusual or unexpected answer.
“I’m in the woods looking for mushrooms”
“Mushrooms!” he exclaimed, and then let out a long chuckle. “What are you doing looking for mushrooms?”
“I’m on a mushroom foray and we’re collecting specimens to study.”
“Are you going to eat any of these mushrooms?”
“Maybe. There are a lot of mushroom dishes being served for lunch.”
“Well, be careful.”
I assured him I was being careful and wasn’t going to eat anything I collected. We said goodbye and I began to reflect. It’s a funny thing, this whole “be careful” sentiment he shared. I’d heard it a lot growing up and am still hearing it in my mid-30s. Perhaps it is this concept of “being careful” that has kept me from venturing off trail more. I recalled my Student Conservation Association trailwork training that taught me about “social” trails made by humans making shortcuts and causing unnecessary damage to the landscape. I recalled my Leave No Trace training to “know before you go” the rules of the location, which often includes sticking to the clearly defined and marked trails. I recalled my Venture Outdoors work training hundreds of volunteer trip leaders to take groups outside and our agreements with land managers that we’d keep to certain paths. These rules were keeping me and others careful. They were necessary.
Being encouraged to step off trail that day caused something happened inside me. I became a forager. A follower of curiosity. I became a bit more free. On September, 16, 2017, I gave myself permission to follow a new path, one of self-knowledge, of curiosity, and of wonder. I’ve had a year’s worth of experiences that highlight my new journey and I’ve discovered that there are infinite shades of color to explore between the black and white of right and wrong or good and bad. I discovered the path to accessing them is through myself.