“City people or not, they creep out with wicker baskets at dawn, when mist is still rising from the earth, looking for humid, sun-warmed spots where mushrooms have risen overnight. True devotees are unapologetically competitive, hiding their secrets from the neighbors and slyly covering their baskets with cloth when someone approaches. At its best, mushroom hunting is a trance state, blotting out everyday concerns like the passage of time, or the way home.”
[Via Choire, at The Awl.]
