Oyster mushrooms

It's been a lovely day.

A day to ride old beach cruiser bicycles through the sunbeams of mid-morning. To walk through cold sand springs with your pants rolled up to the knee. To soak up the chorus of red winged black birds and spring peepers mingle with the rustle of leaves shivering in the breeze. A day to walk through the forest trails to pick wild herbs and oyster mushrooms from the aspen trees.

We suateed them up with butter, garlic, and wild greens by the lake for dinner. Washed down with little mason jar tumblers of wine and the long lengthening shadows of summer, up North.