I went to the back of the grass pasture where we turn the horses out, to get them and put them in for the night. There in a grove at the edge of my timber, on MY property, was my neighbor, Marvin, his son, and a couple of friends, looking for mushrooms. Every year I catch him there; I've hollered at him, griped at his kids... nothing stops him from harvesting my mushrooms. Some people say I should post the place "no trespassing" and press charges, but I wouldn't do this to a neighbor, especially a next-door one. So, as I put the halter on Blue to lead him back, I simply glared at the group for a minute, then turned toward the house. Next, I heard Marvin's boy hollering at me: "Donna, Donna!"
I stopped and waited for him. He said, "Here, we got some mushrooms for you."
It was only eight or ten small gray morels, about the same amount I found Thursday. But added to what I already had, they'll make a nice main course for me and Cliff tomorrow.
Now, I know they didn't intend to give those mushrooms to me until I caught them in the act. Nevertheless, I ended up with them. The Lord works in mysterious ways.
I told Marvin's son (he's about ten), "I really wouldn't mind you guys getting my morels every year, if you'd only give me a mess or two. It hurts my knees to walk back here too much."
"Yeah, I know," Quinton answered. Poor little guy.