Tripping with my Mom
After a few failed attempts at finding fungus in the neighboring cow pasture, Mom got an eighth from a friend and said she’d split it with me.
Mom and I started tripping. The mushrooms made everything seem fresh. On one of the first trips from my mother’s homegrown batch, I remember watching the green nautiluses on her bathroom wallpaper breathe big and then small, their colors pulsing almost like neon light… soon after, I saw an ad for an at-home mushroom “science kit” — such things exist — and shared it with Mom. She placed the order, which came a week later with a bag of rye berries to cultivate the fungal substrate and a bag of soil in which to plant the baby fungi.