Hunting & Gathering, Part 1: Getting in touch with my inner gatherer/forest pixie

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Prologue

The past year being my first in some time to experience four classic seasons in correct succession, 'falling' into winter came with both joy and sorrow. The summer was so especially lovely that I could hardly bear to see less of the sun and start putting on sweaters again. I yearned once more for the consistency of daily blue sky and the cheerful (if unrelenting) yellow orb that Sudan unswervingly provides. But then...I discovered and remembered once again the unique delights of autumn, and the realisation that there is indeed a time for everything and a season for every activity under the heavens. And thus, I embraced fall, and fell for its (golden) charms. There are 2 tales I'd like to share that exemplify my celebration of the past autumn.

The Tale of Chestnutting
(in imperfect rhyming couplets with aggrandized tone)

I heard it said that one can legally forage,
For chestnuts: good roasted, in stuffing, or porridge.
Those fallen from trees; anywhere in my city,
Why, leaving them all for the squirrels would be a pity.

I thought to myself, "self! - let's give that a try!".
Collecting one's food is fulfilling - that's why.
So I quickly took up this new fascination,
And did my research on arboreal classification.

Then when the time of the season was just exactly right,
I gathered some friends with whom to share my delight.
"Off to the forest!" - empty sacks in each hand,
Knowing not if we'd find what we sought, as I'd planned.

The day was exquisite: sunlight filtering through trees,
Not too cold, but crispy, with just a slight breeze.

The park filled with frollickers, everyone out for their walks,
The waffle queue long, families having good talks.

Leaves gold & resplendant, light dancing on the lake,

And we foragers happy, even in the shadows we make.

Once in the woods, our minds turned to our task,
"But, how do you do it?" you might very well ask.

So I gathered my friends for a quick chestnut course,
On the difference between the sweet ones, and those named after a horse.

I was their leader: ill-experienced, but brave and well studied,
And we hunted through the trees; into gulleys; got muddied.

We searched through the leaves, under brush, under brier.
With the rush of the search, our hearts were on fire.

Then! - with cries of delight, we found our first wee, spikey treasure!
The joy of this find - I assure you - is deep pleasure.

(It's then that I realized, a pixie I could be,
To always wander the forest: happy and free.)

We foraging friends were each filled with awe,
(We each have a portrait with surprise and dropped jaw!)

Like pirates of the forest, we plundered our loot,
And there was enough left behind for the squirrels to boot!

When our bundles were full, we made our way back,
Pride filling our hearts, chestnuts filling our sack.

Once home, we washed, scored, and put on the grill,

Then with mulled wine we ate, 'till we each had our fill.

We rested, shared stories, confirmed the fun we'd all had,

And agreed: "hand-picked, home-roasted chestnuts - aren't bad!"

And so, friends, as this foraging story comes to an end,
I emphatically say, "'tis an experience I recommend".

For to find one's own food, fulfills to the core,
A satisfaction you'll not find when you shop in the store.

So next year, when the leaves reach a certain gold-yellow hue,
Time to go chestnutting! - It's the right thing to do!


The end.