THE CLOUDS WERE SMILING

AFTER A SPRING RAIN SHOWER

That’s when we broke out the large brown paper grocery bags.

I was living in North Florida, and loved a spring rain shower. As soon as the rain stopped, we were in a vehicle, headed for some farmers cow pasture out in the sticks, in search of psilocybin mushrooms.

I still find it amazing they grow right out of the cow shit. No one ever got shot, but we had a few close calls.

You could watch the mushrooms grow. I kid you not; you could stare at a cow patty, and watch the damn mushrooms grow larger and larger and larger. Although I never ate ‘em raw, I watched my friends eat ‘em right out of the shit all the time. I preferred to cook ‘em. That’s why I earned the nickname, “Goofy Grapeâ€?. I can take a little shit, but I damn sure won’t eat it.

After we’d picked enough to fill five or six large bags, we’d head back to the ranch and cook ‘em up. I’d have all four burners going on my stove, the stove next door, and the stove next door to that. Three stoves going full tilt boogie. I did 600 people one night. No shit.

After we’d boiled ‘em down, we’d all do a glass of the “straight upâ€? stuff. If you didn’t puke immediately, you were off, so to speak. After we did that, and while I could still see, I’d mix up a batch cut with grape Kool-Aid. The Goofy Grape. We’d sip on this to maintain our levels.

Those were the days. Maybe.