Last summer was rainy. Joys in this little, except for the abundance of mushrooms in the forest. And if you did not need to clean, cook, salt, you can collect from morning to night every day, wearing a raincoat and rubber boots.
What a pleasure to walk in the woods! The air is fresh. If you enter the forest in the early morning, there is peace and quiet, broken occasionally by the thud of a woodpecker or the soft voice of a cuckoo. During the night, a lot of mushrooms grew: Podisinovikov, podberezovikov, chanterelles. Under the Christmas tree, you can find whole families of oily: stand side by side from small to large twenty to forty pieces. But the white fungus is a rarity. It is no coincidence that he is considered noble, and the food prepared from it is a delicacy. But I was lucky one day.
I was already going home with a basket full of mushrooms. Tired, almost did not look at her feet. And if it were not for the lower branch of the tree that swung from the take-off of the bird, I would not look down. Ba! And there stands a handsome mushroom: a white leg, puzatenkaya, like a barrel, a brown cap, matte. Knocked on it with bones of fingers – it rings. By all accounts, a white fungus! I looked around: were not they in the neighborhood yet? No, it stands in splendid isolation. I carefully trimmed it with a knife under the root, held it in my palm – heavy, though not great! I put it in the basket on top as the most valuable trophy.
At home everyone admired my mushroom and praised for the care. Grandfather said that now I can be considered a real mushroom picker. And from my “booty” cooked a delicious soup!