Peters Traces His RootsOctober, 1994
Mushroom sauce was on the dinner menu, but first we had to get mushrooms. I chauffeur our prospecting trip into the forest. Laura, Gaida, and Ruta quickly spread out. That's Gaida disappearing over the rise. My father was a legendary mushroomer, and it must be in my blood, too. Between taping mushrooming lessons and moving the car, I came across this mushroom and asked if it was any good or not. Well, it was the mushroomer's Grand Prize, the very rare (this late in the season) baravika mushroom! We spread out further in our search. I look up. I see nothing but trees in all directions. They've massed over me, preparing to strike at their cornered quarry. I make a break towards where I think I left the car. Is it me, or are these woods not quite as friendly as the ones back home around Mordanga?