Breaking Radio Silence

Hey readers…it’s been a minute, I know.

My childhood essays on “How I Spent My Summer Vacation” were filled with adventures in my backyard, and worlds away as I discovered my passion for reading. What seemed to be endless, blissful days playing a variety of traditional games, and not so (Hey, Julie, see if you can beat Greg running through the garden. And into a shoulder-height hole. Fun stuff.) wrapped at the first sound of cicadas whirring.

What probably wasn’t included in my writings were accounts of survival among five siblings (four brothers and one tough, older sister), the art of resolving and negotiating treaties (Please don’t tell Mom. I’ll give you…whatever equated to fair payment for the offense), and general mayhem that occurred when we were all left to our own devices for extended periods of time.

Injuries typically occurred, none serious enough to require hospital visits. And, as I am the fourth in birth order, therefore the self-appointed leader of the “three little kids,” I developed strong convictions between right and wrong.

I shudder to think what social media posts would have looked like at the time. It’s possible social services would have been knocking at our door.

That’s kind of what this summer has been like…filled with adventures, injury (severe hamstring strain right before our annual ladies’ golf trip), and a situation which challenged my convictions and integrity. Fortunately I made my way through it all with support of family and friends, and as always, great reads to help escape.

So, that’s how I spent my summer vacation. I didn’t share much of anything on social media, simply because I didn’t feel like it. I needed to work through my experiences without feedback from all of you. Sorry.

But now, we’re on to new chapters and experiences back on the road.

Our first stop brought back other childhood memories.

Every spring the whole lot of us would take paper bags and walk the half-mile to the nearby creek. If we were lucky, we’d bring back handfuls of what we called “sponge” mushrooms. We’d bring them home, soak them in salt water, then dad would sauté them in butter. Little did I know that these fungi were also known as morels, selling for more money than I could ever dream of for a monthly allowance.

Hurricane Helene devastated western North Carolina. One of the thousands of roads destroyed includes portions of I-40, our typical route. We decided to break the first leg of our trip into two days, including an overnight somewhere I never imagined.

A mushroom farm.

Yep, Sharonview Farm in Monroe, North Carolina, just outside of Charlotte, participates in the Harvest Host program. I’ve written some of the fun golf courses, wineries and cattle farms we’ve stayed at in our past travels.

But never a mushroom farm.

Owners Nasi and Teresa greeted us when we arrived, guiding us to our peaceful spot for the night.

Our motorhome in the background. Our morning view of the cattle field.

Then Nasi took us back by their shed and showed us how they grow and harvest shitake mushrooms.

They use sweet gum trees, which doesn’t make good firewood and tends to rot easily. The wood is soft and therefore, holes can be bored into without much effort. After the holes are created in the wood, Nasi and Theresa place commercially purchased mushroom spores into the holes.