Look but don’t touch …

Things that go bump in the night? It might be you dropping dead if you’re not careful with your foraging. Or if you sample mushroom ragout cooked by your enemy. 

I love this time of year for the fresh apples, the crisp days, and the colourful fungi peppering the forest floor, like these that I found on a recent camping trip. But sometimes those mushrooms and toadstools, if eaten, have ugly consequences. If you’re in the mood for mushrooms, purchase from the grocery store or market. I repeat, DO NOT EAT! unless you are a mycologist (fungus expert).

Craterellus ignicolor, Flame chanterelle, is considered edible, though it’s found to be quite bland. When dried, they’re used as a pale yellow dye for textiles and paper.

Russula xerampelina, Shellfish-scented russula. Mm … doesn’t that sound yummy? I confess I didn’t give it a sniff and am quite glad. Considered edible, and indeed prized by some, I’d give this a miss due to the fishiness that lingers during and after cooking.

Hygrocybe Cantharellus, Goblet waxcap. Here’s another that is edible but bland, also insubstantial. Not worth the bother. Best to leave them to decorate the forest.

Ganoderma tsugae, Hemlock varnish shelf. This beauty grows on diseased or fallen hemlock trees, appears to be varnished, and resembles a shelf. Was someone lacking imagination when they came up with that common name? Though non-poisonous, they’re considered inedible because of their tough, woody texture. A tea can be made from the lips of the shelf and may have medicinal properties, but this is unproven and disputed.

Clavulinopsis fusiformis, Golden spindles, or an even better name in my opinion, spindle-shaped fairy club. As you might guess based on its appearance it’s a species of coral fungus. Though non-poisonous, it’s been described as both edible and inedible. Hm … I don’t much like that ambiguity. Although, it’s commonly eaten in Nepal, so … when in Nepal???

Finally, if someone offers you an omelet containing Amanita flavorubens, Yellow American blusher, run for the hills. While a few of the Amanita species are edible, they are so similar in appearance to poisonous species that it’s advised to just steer clear. There are about six-hundred species of Amanita, many of which grow amongst the mighty hemlock trees. Many are inedible, some are poisonous, and others are deadly poisonous, the most toxic mushrooms in the world and responsible for ninety-five percent of mushroom related fatalities. The inedible species include ringless panther and false death cap. Poisonous examples are known as fly agaric and panther cap. And the ones to stay far away from, the deadly poisonous species, are destroying angel (I think the clue is in the name, don’t you?), fool’s mushroom (you’re not only a fool but a dead fool), and death cap (no ambiguity with that name!). 

Toadstools might be pretty to look at and make the perfect backdrop for a tale about fairies but are best left untouched. 

Now, I’ve got some yummy stuffed mushrooms just out of the oven … who wants one?

Luanna Stewart has been creating adventures for her imaginary friends since childhood. She spends her days writing spicy contemporary romance, romantic suspense, paranormal romance, and historical romance. When not torturing her heroes and heroines, she’s in her kitchen baking something delicious. She lives in Nova Scotia with her patient husband and five hens. 

Website ~ Bookbub ~ Twitter ~ Instagram ~ Facebook ~ Goodreads 

Backcountry camping - my happy place

From the time the boys were walking, we've spent part of every summer camping and canoeing, first in a regular campground, what I call 'car camping', and then at remote campsites in the backcountry with everybody and everything loaded into our large canoe. 

When the kids were old enough, and strong enough, we graduated to two canoes for the paddle into the wilderness - one parent and one child in each canoe. And then it was the boring parents in one canoe and the boys in the other, either racing ahead or lagging behind. 

Now that our nest is empty, we're back to one canoe (or two kayaks, but one canoe is a heck of a lot easier to manage on the portages). 

We recently spent a few days in one of my favourite places on earth, Kejimkujik National Park, located in the south-west end of Nova Scotia. 

Here's a map showing the backcountry campsites, some on lakes, some you need to hike to, all very remote. The orange square shows our location for this most recent stay.

And an enlarged view of that area of the map. We parked our car at Eel Weir.

 We walked the O portage and put our canoe in the water at the end of the red line.

Then we paddled to the P portage and site 23, the only campsite on that lake. 

One of the first tasks is making the water safe to drink with a filter and special tablets. This site is one of only a handful with a wooden shelter, very handy should it rain. Though we always have an extra tarp to use as a rain shelter just in case.

A previous camper left this interesting axe behind. My writer brain instantly went in a dark direction.

The next day we paddled further down the river to see the sights ... 

before returning to our campsite for a cosy fire.

Our last day dawned sunny and warm.

We packed up aaalllll our stuff and got on the water for a leisurely paddle back to the portage.

A friendly doe said goodbye.

And then the walk back to the parking lot ...

and the end of another perfect stay in a truly happy place.

Luanna Stewart has been creating adventures for her imaginary friends since childhood. She spends her days writing spicy contemporary romance, romantic suspense, paranormal romance, and historical romance. When not torturing her heroes and heroines, she’s in her kitchen baking something delicious. She lives in Nova Scotia with her patient husband, a spoiled cat, and five hens. 

Website ~ Bookbub ~ Twitter ~ Instagram ~ Facebook ~ Goodreads 

    

Amelia Bennett is getting her life on track and won’t let the mistakes of the past harsh her joy. Most days. While working at the family store by day, and building her graphic design business by night, she dreams of the perfect life in the perfect house – just as soon as she can afford it. A man is Not On The Schedule. Not even the big, strong, gorgeous man with the sweet smile and sexy arms.

Nate Hardwick’s craft brewery needs a boost. New bottle labels might help and, luckily, a graphics designer with perfect ideas and a whole bunch of attitude struts into his life. Pretty soon, they’re hanging out like a couple of buddies, but another buddy isn’t what he needs. Not when she’s everything he wants.

Will Amelia’s … issues crash this chance at love? Nate needs to convince her that he’s strong enough to handle whatever she can throw at him.

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My personal peace...

According to the online Oxford Dictionary of English, peace can mean freedom from disturbance and/or tranquillity; or, mental or emotional calm; or, a state or period in which there is no war or a war has ended.

In no particular order, here are five things that bring me personal peace, i.e. tranquility and mental calm:

Baking – I’ve only recently come to realize that baking for family and friends is my love language. Hey, I’m a slow learner. Not only does time spent in the kitchen with flour, sugar, butter, and eggs fill me with a sense of peace, but it also brings me joy when the fruits of my labours are enjoyed by those I care for. 

 

Knitting – An excuse to sit and let my thoughts wander while being productive. Like day dreaming with permission, hehe. Particularly calming are dish cloths knitted with a pattern I make up on the fly. Quick, easy, and if I purl when I should have knit, no one will care about the goof because the dish cloth will still do its job. No pressure.

Photo by Margarida Afonso on Unsplash

Camping – What I’ve called communing with nature is what some now call forest bathing. I’ve been reaping the benefits of camping under the stars, far away from civilization, for years. Sure I miss the flush toilet, sure I curse the biting bugs, but watching the moon glimmer on the lake whilst I’m serenaded by loons and owls is worth the primitive conditions and the occasional itchy bite. And waking to the sounds of birds tweeting, squirrels chattering, and frogs practicing their diving is something I treasure. Even the astoundingly loud patter of rain on the tent is calming.

Kayaking – Exercise whilst sitting, surrounded by the mysterious depths of ocean, lake, or stream. Though the streams I’ve explored aren’t terribly deep, so there’s not much mystery, unless the flash of a fish catches my eye and makes me wonder what species it is. The lake is a bit more mysterious, but I’m pretty sure the dark water is hiding only fish, diving turtles, and slimy weeds. I find the ocean a bit scary so I tend to not think about what lies in wait beneath the surface. (Particularly in recent years when Great White Sharks have been spotted in my area.) I’ll happily sit and let the tide or wind carry me where it will whilst I watch the Ospreys fish, wait for the Great Blue Heron to catch something, and pray the seagull doesn’t poop on my head.

Pulling weeds – Another mindless and productive activity that allows for wandering thoughts, and gives me something to show for the time spent outdoors in the sun. I’m striving for a meadow rather than a lawn and so am judicious in the weeds I pull. They are just misplaced wildflowers after all. I have a large planting of what is called bog thistle that I’ve decided needs to go – it’s in the way of foot traffic to and from the hen house. But I’ll wait until late fall to dig it up so the goldfinches will have time to feast on the seeds.

Photo by Gary Fultz on Unsplash

What all these activities have in common is they give me time and space for my thoughts to wander. I can’t tell you what I’m contemplating as I sift flour or wind yarn, not because it’s a scandalous secret (I wish! Wouldn’t it be fun to hold a scandalous secret?) but because it’s ho-hum stuff like “I wonder what that bug is” or “the neighbour’s dog WILL NOT SHUT UP!” or “I wish I had pre-cut parchment paper for my round cake tins”. After a while, even those thoughts fade and I’m left with a feeling of tranquility, a large pile of weeds added to the compost pile, or a few dozen ginger snaps.

Luanna Stewart has been creating adventures for her imaginary friends since childhood. She spends her days writing spicy romance ranging from contemporary to paranormal. When not torturing her heroes and heroines, she’s in her kitchen baking something delicious. She lives in Nova Scotia with her patient husband, two spoiled cats, and five hens.

Website ~ Bookbub ~ Twitter ~ Instagram ~ Facebook ~ Goodreads 

A funny thing happened on the way to the campsite

I struggled to recall a funny family story because I don’t have the best memory and never have. For instance, I need to travel a specific route many times before I know it. I’m hard-pressed to remember a store location if I’ve only been there once. I won’t even mention my poor sense of direction. All I can say is, thank goodness for GPS. But there is one incident that I hope is amusing, in a comedy of errors sort of way.

Many years ago, on one of our family camping expeditions, Hubby, our two sons, and I loaded the canoes with supplies and provisions and set off on a five-day circuit along three lakes in Kejimkujik National Park here in Nova Scotia. We would camp at a different site every night, and paddle and/or portage for a few hours every day.

Now, because we would have limited contact with the outside world (cell towers were few and far between back then), we double and triple checked everything as we unloaded the car. The parking lot was a good fifteen-minute hike from the boat launch and we had to make several trips back and forth with the two canoes and all our stuff. Our two boys were twelve and ten years old at the time and could carry only so much.

Anyway, we finally got underway after a picnic lunch and enjoyed a leisurely paddle to our first campsite. The weather was fine and we took our time setting up camp, exploring a nearby trail, and hunting for snakes. Son1 was determined to catch a garter snake. (He did later in the trip and got a good snakebite for his trouble. And still proudly carries the scar.)

On our first night of one of these trips I always cook a regular meal using perishable food because subsequent meals will be freeze-dried or dehydrated “casseroles” which we’ll be thoroughly tired of by the end. Along about six o’clock I set up the kitchen with the compact one-burner stove, the small frying pan with folding handle, and the pound of ground beef for our burger feast. Imagine my frustration when I couldn’t get the stove to light. There was plenty of fuel, I’d lit the stove countless times before, and so I had no clue what I was doing wrong. I called hubby over and, after a few minutes of fiddling, he determined that an essential piece of the stove was missing, a little valve or something. Well…now imagine my frustration. The stove had been intact when he loaded the car so the piece must have fallen out when he gave the stove one last check in the parking lot.

The park regulations forbid using a campfire for cooking, leaving us with only one option. Hubby and Son1, being the strongest pair, set off on the three hour round trip in a race against nightfall. Son2 and I tried to amuse ourselves while waiting – which wasn’t easy. When the sun dipped below the horizon we settled on the little wooden dock because there was more lingering light at the water’s edge than under the canopy of trees. We counted frogs based on their noises, tried to identify birds as they flew home to roost, and marveled at the call of the loons in the perfect stillness.

I let out a sigh of relief when I heard the unmistakeable sound of a paddle hitting the side of a canoe. Son2 and I turned on our flashlights and became a human lighthouse to guide home the rescue team. They were hot and tired because they’d paddled at full steam and run to the parking lot. Sure enough, the missing stove part had been lying on the ground next to our car.

Dinner was late that night but those hamburgers were the most delicious we’d ever eaten.

~

Luanna Stewart has been creating adventures for her imaginary friends since childhood. She spends her days writing spicy romantic suspense, paranormal romance, and historical romance. When not torturing her heroes and heroines, she’s in her kitchen baking something delicious. She lives in Nova Scotia with her patient husband and two spoiled cats.

Website ~ Bookbub ~ Twitter ~ Instagram ~ Facebook ~ Goodreads ~ Amazon Author Page

Her newest book, If I Didn't Care, is available at your favourite online retailer.

Guess who’s moving in next door?

Nicole Bennett is used to bad luck—it’s kind of a family curse. She’s spent the past year stitching her life back together after losing her dream job. Well, it paid the rent. Now stuck working at her family’s grocery store while wrangling a demoralized dad and a spoiled-brat sister, the last thing she needs is for the man who wrecked her life to move in next door, even if it is for only three weeks. So what if he’s sexier than sin and makes her believe in fairy tale endings?

Ross Calvert’s life in the fast lane crashed when he lost his job and fiancée. All he’s got to show for years of hard work are a sleek sports car and a closet full of designer suits – minus the closet. Determined to salvage his relationship with his best friend, he trades in the corporate life for a brief stint as a caregiver. The decision was simple—until he discovers the tempting vixen he wronged lives next door. Maybe she’s what he needs to reboot his life.

What starts off as a no-strings fling soon veers into making promises that might be impossible to keep.