Magical morels

I haven’t found a morel yet this spring. To make it worse, a North Side reader sent a cryptic message about ones he picked last week . . . and a nice photo.


Paranoia is part of picking morels. As in, I am paranoid that somebody saw me picking them at my favorite spot last spring and figured out what I was doing.

It’s a very public spot, but I’ve tried to find them in the daylight, then harvest them at more obscure moments (rain, dusk, dawn).

Last week, I happened to mention that it was time for morels.

That brought this from the faithful North Side reader: “You could have waited a week before telling the whole world. . . . and yes these were picked within sight of Chicago’s tallest building!”

Quite frankly, that’s as cryptic a piece of morel information as somebody can give. If you remember the last time you viewed the world from the observation floor at the Sears Tower, you realize just how huge an area that covers.

I respect that kind of cleverness.

True greatness should be on display at the Illinois State Morel Mushroom Championship at Marshall-Putnam Fairgrounds in Henry from Friday through Sunday.

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