Passing on a Legacy

Every spring, Handyman morphs from semi-normal human male (but really, IS there such a thing?) to an obsessed madman who tromps through miles of woodland to hunt the illusive morel mushroom. This annual event provides much amusement for me, as my normally staid husband can "soar up on the wings of anticipation" to plunging into the "depths of despair" depending on such varied things as weather, number of morels found, or whether his brothers have found more morels than him.

This year has been especially interesting, as my little boy Peter has been inaugurated into the male morel obsession. (Whew, try saying that quickly!)

It is so priceless to see my little man and my big man walking off through the woods together. Handyman says that when he bends down to check for morels hiding under leaves, Peter puts his cheek right up next to his and says, "Did you find any, Daddy? Did you?" Last Saturday they walked almost 3 miles through the woods together. What a special time for Daddy and son! (And special for me, too, as that means one less child underfoot . . .)

"Is this morel up to my culinary expectations?"

"Yup! It passes the test!"

"Thank you, God, for creating morels!"