The meadows below our house are sprouting field mushrooms. The formula is correct - cows and cowpats rotate with fairly marshy fields left fallow when the cattle are not there. Add to this the recent weather, where drops of rain hang like suspended beads. Bingo: an early crop of mushrooms. Autumn alas, is here. The funghi are the silver lining.
The fresh mushrooms shine out like beacons. It takes no time at all to get your eye in. Within minutes today's mushrooms can be spotted. Luminous on top, turned over their gills are pure pink. Yesterdays are supermarket brown. We don't bother with them. I remember my first mushrooming, in the borders of Scotland about twenty years ago. We had gone from London to stay on a farm, owned by relations. They took us out on the hill. I could hardly believe the insouciance with which yesterday's mushrooms were discarded.
Here, we will be eating mostly mushroom soup.