Some of my earliest memories revolve around trampling the woods after a rainy day. In Ukraine, my mom and her family would pick wild mushrooms to eat. They absolutely loved the “chore” of finding them because they made it into a game. When my mom came to America, she wanted me to grow up as American as possible, but there were a few traditions she passed along from her youth. After it rained, all the mushroom spores that were waiting to germinate would be ready to\u00a0 be harvested. That’s when we would go out with my mom and start picking them. I was pretty gosh darn good at it too. Its been a few years now since I went out to pick with my mom, but even that small mention of mushrooms brought the memories flooding back. Its always good to remember your roots because even though I can feel like an oak that can’t be brought down. That’s only because I have a good foundation under me, holding me down to earth.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Some of my earliest memories revolve around trampling the woods after a rainy day. In Ukraine, my mom and her family would pick wild mushrooms to eat. They absolutely loved the “chore” of finding them because they made it into a game. When my mom came to America, she wanted me to grow up as … <\/p>\n