Right before I went on vacation, I found my first hen of the woods mushroom! The formidable fungus was thriving on the grounds of Garden in the Woods in Framingham, a boreal wonderland of native plants run by the New England Wild Flower Society. I recognized the edible shroom right away. Once you try something that delicious, you never forget it. The contours are indelibly imprinted on your brain. I couldn't take it home, of course, but it was fun to spot it in the wild nonetheless!
I was still basking in my mushroom triumph on the way to the Cape when TeenNiece, whom I've been unable to convince that fungus is anything but disgusting, made the casual observation that none of the other bicycles fastened to the various vacation-bound vehicles had milk crates strapped to the backs of them. Only mine. She complimented me on my uber-stylish "mushroom basket," which I'd never used in that capacity before, but, now that she mentioned it, is a FANTASTIC IDEA! Then, right on cue, Husband launched into his very entertaining impersonation of me identifying mushrooms, characterized by bold, arrogant pronouncements coupled with a complete and utter lack of care. He has a knack for coming up with the most unflattering voices that sound nothing like me but are somehow so funny that you simply have to accept them on the basis of their being 100% wrong.
The mushroom-related torment continued for much of the week, especially since the yard of the cottage we rent was completely overrun with fungus (mostly inedible russulas and poison puffballs by my estimation, and there goes Husband with his voices again). But the mobile mushroom basket? That was pure genius. I'll bring my pocketknife along on bike rides, collect any large mushroom specimens I find, then wheel my way back home distributing spores along the way. Why didn't I think of that??