The Morel of This Story Is a Mushroom - Washington Post
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Sunday, May 4, 2008; Page D03
W here there’s one there must be more,
One or two or three or four . . .
That’s the little refrain George Houk repeats as he wanders the woods of Rock Creek Park these days, hunting morel mushrooms. He learned it from his grandma, Janey Price, when they used to go mushroom hunting near Petoskie, Mich., half a lifetime ago.
But not since he was 9 years old can Houk remember a year for morels like this one. “This is the best year I’ve had since then, no doubt,” the 51-year-old architect said last week as he scoured the leaf-strewn hills of Northwest Washington for the heads of freshly sprouted morels poking through.
That’s saying something. Houk won’t forget the spring day 42 years ago when he and a half-dozen family and friends set forth in Michigan in a chilly drizzle. “We were wearing ponchos, but when we came back one kid didn’t have his poncho anymore. We found so many morels, we had to take it to carry them.
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