|In the fall, my Central European atavism comes into play. I see a wicker basket and think of mushrooms. I see a pocket knife and I think of mushrooms. I see rain boots and I think of mushrooms. Too bad it seems like this year my mycologic urges will not be satisfied - because we live in the middle of a city, because the woods are far away, and if you don't drive, they are even further.|
On Saturday we set out on our bikes to watch a football game with the family in Watertown and stopped at a park by the river. I was, of course, hoping for mushrooms but all we found were just lots of burrs (or rather, they found us).
I should report that this time I enjoyed the game more - I brought a book and even managed to nap a bit.