Monday, August 1, 2011

Put Up a Parking Lot

We were surprised to see yellow signs all over our mountain, even in the most hidden and isolated forest. The signs were reminding people that they have to pay for mushrooms or berries picked in the zone. There was a lot of effort, and a lot of money, put into the sign project, and it’s a joke to everyone I’ve spoken to.
Down by the river, as well, a new sign appeared the other day, also yellow, stating that the river is a spot only open to residents of the area.
I know it’s childish of me, but signs like this make me want to pick as many mushrooms and berries as I possibly can, and bring as many of my foreign friends and relatives to have loud parties at the river. We go to the river occasionally – it’s wonderful – there is a narrow waterfall, a cliff to climb, rocks to sunbathe upon, and the supply of skipping stones never seems to decrease.
There is another river, closer to our house, that you get to by going down the path to the left, following the trail past the abandoned villages, until you get to the old midwife’s house, then you keep going down until you hear the river, keep on going, past the fallen tree, until you are in the valley and there is the most beautiful little mountain river, wading size, but with pools you can bathe in if you can stand the cold.
Our guest picked cherries the other day: he found a cherry tree that was full of red cherries. I didn’t have time to make a pie or jam, and no one wanted to eat them so they turned mushy and went into the compost. He was upset at the waste but I showed him the trees all up and down the road, full of cherries. The myrtle berry bushes are full. The raspberries are finished, left to the worms. The blackberries are ripening, but there’s no way I can make jam with all the blackberries on the mountain.
We found some Chanterelles the other day and ate them fried in olive oil. But we haven’t found any Porcini yet, it’s a strange season this year. The old-timers don’t know why – even in their secret spots they are not finding the usual amount. But it’s not because of the signs. Nature has its mysteries that we can’t understand. It may be because of all the spring rain, or the lack of early summer rain, or the heat in June, the cold spell in July … we can put up signs, parking lots, and tollbooths, but no one can tell the mushrooms where to grow.

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