My Mushroom Mascot

The death of my beloved Sierra left a hollow space in my heart. For me, life without a canine companion is empty. Fortunately, my landlord's dog, Sheamus, was more than pleased to fill the void with his delightful company. Every time I took him along for a ride through the state forest, I would spot some good edible mushrooms from the road. For blessing me with "mushroom luck", Seamus became my "Mushroom Mascot".


Sniff...sniff.. This one will do nicely in an omelet.



Sheamus meets wild turkeys.
An intense moment... stand-off between dog and bird. The energy of this meeting was electric! Always the perfect little gentledog, Sheamus checked his instinct to chase. The turkeys, too, kept their distance, but interest was high on both sides. As Sheamus inched closer, the turkeys grew wary, strutting off into the woods.



Heading home... with a basket full of honeys and bluets.



Honey Mushrooms
I picked pounds of honeys nearly every day for weeks. No need to walk through the woods to spot these. They were so prolific, you couldn't miss them from the road running through the state forest. I've never seen (or gathered) so many honeys in this area before.



A small hen-of-the-woods...
One day's growth fit nicely in the palm of my hand. I could have left this another few days to grow larger, but it was so perfectly fresh, I decided to cut it while it was still undiscovered by insects.


The last and largest of 2009.
The season's last hen weighed in at 8 lbs... not very large compared to those many foragers find in other areas, but it was in perfect condition and 8 lbs. is a lot of mushroom to clean, and enough to make mushroom lasagna, mushroom pizza, mushroom strata, all shared with the Forest Rangers at Shawme-Crowell who are my favorite "taste testers" and always willing to sample my mushroom concoctions.



Mushroom eye candy.
Top: Pink Fruiting Lichen -Bottom: Turkey Tails & Lichen growing on a stump.

The Final Time

Today I am thinking of final times...and things that come to pass.

The final time I see the first robin of the year

The final time I wait for elderberry blossoms to fruit

The final time I gather the ripened berries and sit for hours, fingers deftly removing the stems

The final time I feed wild turkeys at the state forest

The final time I carry my folding chair onto Sandwich Town Beach

The final time I sit by the summer ocean

The final time I watch for the beach plums to ripen

The final time my arms are scratched bloody while plucking them from thorny branches

The final time I turn my wild bounty into beach plum and elderberry jam

The final time I satisfyingly line a shelf with row upon row of jelly jars, like sparkling gems of ruby and amethyst

The final time I take my dog for a 5 minute walk

The final time I forage for wild mushrooms

The final time I cook for enjoyment

The final time I see the glorious colors of Autumn leaves

The final time my nose gets dusted with pollen while smelling a Casablanca lily

The final time I pinch off sprigs of curly mint growing at the bottom of my stairs and breathe in its fragrance

The final time I plant a flower

I would have made these moments more sacred had I known I was doing them for a final time.
~~~

Things I have not been able to do for years and wish I had cherished more.. things which have passed out of my life - already done for the final time:

Looking up at the sky

Walking with my head held high, in perfect posture

Breathing without having to fight for it

Feeling my body totally relax

Smiling and laughing

Eating and drinking without having to do certain maneuvers to prevent choking

Taking my dog for a walk

Driving for pleasure

Having my teeth cleaned

Being able to do anything with ease

Working in a garden

Doing anything for pleasure

Enjoying, really enjoying life

Being free of physical pain and discomfort
~~~~

I will make very special moments of what remains within my ability to do
as if doing each one for the final time.

Winter Solstice

Snow Song

Snow Song from Lucille on Vimeo.

My friend Mary Anne, sent me a lovely floral basket for Christmas. It was full of fresh flowers and beautiful evergreens. It graced my apartment for weeks, and when the flowers died, the evergreens were still fresh, but starting to drop some leaves from being indoors.

I put the basket on my deck where my feathered friends congregate each day to dine. The birds love this basket, as this little wren seems to be singing in appreciation!

The Squirrel-Proof Bird Feeder

The Squirrel-Proof Bird Feeder from Lucille on Vimeo.

There's a feisty squirrel in every yard! This one managed to coax a few seeds out of this feeder, but it did prevent his feasting on its entire contents in a single day, as he did with the feeder below, which he treated as his own private feeding station.

I still use this feeder, but it is now filled with safflower seeds, which the birds like, but squirrels do not.

Thanksgiving Dinner - Hens & Chickens, No Turkey, please!

My idea of Thanksgiving dinner, courtesy of wild bounty foraged from Shawme-Crowell State Forest - Sandwich, Massachusetts.

Vegetarian Thanksgiving - Hens & Chickens, but No Turkey, please! from Lucille Iacovelli on Vimeo.

Fragrant Fungi

September 15, 2007 The Black Trumpet is often ignored by foragers in my neck of the woods. It is easy to overlook these incredibly fragrant fungi because here on Cape Cod, they rarely grow large enough to make them worth hunting. They are difficult to spot on the forest floor because their appearance so closely resembles brown, fallen leaves. This very thin and fragile fungi only last one or two days at most before they shrivel up into hard, coal black pieces of debris. What these delicate mushrooms lack in size and substance, they make up for in flavor. Their unique characteristics make them easy to differentiate from poisonous types. I rarely find many of these in a season... perhaps enough to grace an omelet at best. The Black Trumpet has an affinity for egg dishes, transforming a simple omelet or a few scrambled eggs into special dish with an unforgettable flavor and aroma. I could hardly believe my eyes when I spotted these tiny trumpets emerging from a large patch of moss growing along the roadside within the state forest. I stopped the car to take a closer look, and found enough trumpets to keep me on my knees in the moss until the area was picked clean. Wild fungi should be gathered with care. They should be cut flush with the ground with a knife rather than pulled out of the ground. This causes the least disturbance to the mycelium in the soil. Only pull when you absolutely must make a positive identification by a unique characteristic of the stem base. Proper gathering will increase the chance of finding the same mushrooms in that area year after year.

Visitors' Return

Lucille Iacovelli

With the warm weather my wild visitors return. Right now, the furry variety seems to have overpowered my feathered friends. In an attempt to divert the squirrels from devouring seed intended for the birds, I thought I would entice them away from the bird feeder with tiny crackers spread with peanut butter. I offered this in addition to their usual ration of cracked corn.

My plan backfired. Now they have increased in both number and appetite with a newly acquired taste for peanut butter...and so spoiled as to leave the cracker behind after licking off every molecule of peanut from its surface. I will allow them their peanut butter feast until the jar is empty. After that, they will have to eat the corn or find another human willing to indulge their extravagant taste!

My Special Visitor - Part II

August 15, 2007

Gray Squirrel, and his girlfriend, Redhead, turn up every day. As they methodically munch their way through morsels of peanut butter laced corn meal, meticulously lick their nimble little paws clean, and end this repast with a long drink of water, I sit sipping tea, a few feet away, taking in the spectacle.
More often than not, I find myself confined to home, with ever more time to become better acquainted with my animal friends. This piece of glass which allows me the privilege of watching these charming creatures has become monumentally important in my life.

I have learned some of the ways in which physical limitations raise one's tolerance for the inevitable dust and detritus of life and from necessity, have let go of my former compulsion to keep my apartment as scrupulously clean as I would like. It is still clean, but not obsessively so. I was bothered by the fact that I could not keep the glass door crystal clear, as extending my neck for the job of cleaning is nearly impossible. Yet my longing for a perfect view of my visitors' antics impelled me to action. So, dragging a chair out to the deck, and teetering atop it's seat, I polished my window onto wonderland until it sparkled. .

Continued...

My Special Visitor

~August 11, 2007~
The light rain brought a flurry of activity to the tiny deck just outside my kitchen door. I had just replenished the nectar in a glass hummingbird feeder, scattered a few hands full of seed along the railing and floor, then filled a clay dish with a mixture of corn meal and peanut butter that sends the squirrels and chipmunks into paroxysms of delight. My friends were all waiting..perched in the oak branches forming a graceful, protective canopy over their miniature sanctuary. They began to alight even before I closed the screen behind me. Calling their friends to breakfast, they chirped and chattered, filling the morning with sparkling bird song. Blue jays, chickadees, goldfinch, sparrows, Mr. & Mrs Cardinal.. even the cranky crow made an appearance, but found the offered fare not to his liking..a relief to his smaller avian relations.

The squirrels arrived in flying leaps from tree trunk to deck, noisily announcing their presence with a commotion before settling down to feast. Reliable as clock work, Redhead and her boyfriend, Gray are bold and incorrigible, wreaking havoc with my potted plants when made to wait for their breakfast.

Then, as sudden as a flash, there she was..my special visitor. Her tiny body flitting from flower to feeder.. Her iridescent feathers luminous as jewels in the rain-gray morning. Yes, it was she.. hovering before me, looking me straight in the eye, I swear. She knows me. Does she remember?

Continued.. part II

My Special Visitor

2007

My Special Visitor - Part III

August, 2007

Exhausted from the simple task of window washing, I went inside for a brief rest. As my labored breathing became more regular, my eyes closed on pleasant thoughts of sitting at my sparkling clean window with a nice cup of tea and enjoying the view. Just as this lovely image brought me to the edge of sleep, I heard a tiny thud on the glass.

My heart flew to my throat as I hurried to the door. The precious hummingbird lay motionless on the straw mat. She was on her back, eyes closed. Kneeling before the mat, I gently, reverently, placed her in my hands. I was overwhelmed by the intensity of an indescribable emotion as I held this nearly weightless, beautiful creature; her heart beating so fast as my own raced with it. My mind flew in a thousand directions at once. I heard my own voice cry "Please, God, do not let her die!" while simultaneously admonishing myself for cleaning the glass to invisibility.

I stood helpless, holding the helpless bird, my heart and soul filled to bursting with my pitiful prayer for her life. As tears streamed down my face, I vaguely recalled reading something about reviving stunned hummingbirds. With her tiny head held gently, ever so gently, between my thumb and two fingers, I dipped the end of her long, slender beak into the cone of the nectar bottle. Suddenly, her eyes opened as her unimaginably long tongue extended and reached for the nectar.

continued....

My Special Visitor 2007

My Special Visitor - Part lV

(Photo: Visitor of a different feather..from the Finch family. I found this sweet bird on my deck during a brutal snow storm last winter, motionless and nearly frozen. I placed her inside my jacket, next to my heart, and left her there while I lined a box with an old tea towel, as my canine companion eyed me suspiciously. I then settled her into the box, covered it with a screen, then frantically searched for the number of the nearest wildlife sanctuary, thinking she would need professional help. After one hour, she was able to move, but only a bit. I fetched the camera while she nestled in my hand and captured this shot. From the moment the bird entered the flat, my dog excitedly paced back and forth in the tiny 2 rooms, giving me jealous glances, then sneaking an occasional jump, curious to see the creature that had stolen my attention. Finally, the little finch energetically fluttered her wings and appeared completely restored, I brought the box outside, removed the screen, and watched with relief, as she flew away as good as new.) Lucille Iacovelli Holding one of God's perfect creatures in one's hand is a blessing profound as life itself. As the hummingbird revived, I watched in awe while its tongue continued dipping into the nectar. I was overcome by an intensity of awareness at the wonder of this moment.. this blessing bestowed upon me and this breathtakingly exquisite little bird. She allowed me the opportunity to see, up close, every magnificent detail of her body.. her tiny feet! ... her oh, so lovely and perfectly feathered little body!.. and her eyes, trusting and looking straight into mine with an awareness we, as human beings, will never know in our present bodies. The tiny bird blessed me with its trust and filled me with humility. My Special Visitor 2007

My Special Visitor - Part V

	~September 3, 2007~ Each day, the call is conveyed in chirping and bird-song, amongst the woodland creatures: "Hurry! The lady with the wild gray hair is serving breakfast! " Lucille Iacovelli 2007

Return of the Cicadas

i Mother Nature has turned up the volume on my tinnitus to a nerve-wracking cacophony. The "Peridiocal Cicadas" known by entomologists as Brood XIV are emerging here on Cape Cod right on schedule. Every 17 years, these cicadas complete another life-cycle when nymphs buried under ground emerge to molt and mate in unimaginable numbers. They remain in the nymph stage for 17 years and because of this are considered the longest-lived of all insects. I first witnessed this remarkable phenomena when I moved to Cape Cod in 1991. I awoke one day to a deafening noise. I opened my door to investigate the source of this racket. The shock! I thought I was still asleep and in the midst of a nightmare! There were *thousands* of these HUGE insects in various stages of shedding their armour-like shells, emerging into winged creatures of spectacular proportion and coloring. With their bulging red eyes contrasted against plump black bodies and veined transparent wings, their sheer number made the sight and SOUND surreal and unforgettable. I had never seen anything like this before (except in horror films.) Since earliest memory, I have had a "phobic" reaction to large insects. It has taken a conscious effort to bring this irrational fear reaction under control over the years. Gardening helped in this regard, and I learned to appreciate the uniqueness of the insect realm, but I confess there are some insects I still prefer to observe from afar, and the cicada is one of them. After my cicada initiation in 1991, I forgot about them... until now. As I write, their unrelenting "singing", which will continue for another month, pervades my auditory sensation...akin to the nerve-grating scratching of fingernails on a chalk board, to a meditative-like white noise. The return of the cicadas mark my 17th year on Cape Cod, where flora and fauna give rise to endless fascination. Lucille Iacovelli