I just love flowers. I'll never pass by without stopping to enjoy them. Designed for pollinators, I wonder if bees also stop to appreciate their beauty? I like to think so. A moment of admiration as they hover above; deciding on the prettiest flower to settle on. Borage, Borago officinalis, is spectacular. A herb of blue stars, twinkling as they sway in the breeze. But Borage isn't just for admiring. It's also for eating. It tastes like cucumber with a hint of shellfish. The

I snacked on bushfood as a kid. But my full descent into foraging was all via mushrooms. Years ago, I found some little brown mushrooms growing in my backyard—caramel brown, with a nippled top. I was worried they looked similar to some hallucinagenic mushrooms I’d seen on a 60 Minutes exposé. Somehow the stars aligned and I stumbled exactly where I needed to be: a mushroom ID group on Facebook. The group’s mycologist admin hit me with a mouthful of a taxonomical name. Turns o

Mushrooming is usually a treasure hunt in the forest. You wander through the wilderness, taking in every detail, until you uncover a whole bounty of mushrooms hiding beneath leaf litter. Ah, the excitement of a haul! A basket overflowing with abundance, enough to host the most glorious dinner party. But foraging for Porcini isn't like this. They're so elusive in Victoria, there's a one in a million shot you'll stumble upon one. Expect a sad, empty basket. The lucky few who ha

My poor friends put up with my seasonal personality disorder. The summer version of me hosts cocktail parties and spends afternoons sprawled on the beach. But by mid-autumn, my inner mushroom nerd is fully unmasked. I'll try to recruit everyone for expeditions to what's affectionately dubbed the 'fuck no forest'—Ivan Milat’s picnic spot of no return. It’s a leech infested damp pit. Turn left and you'll be threatened with rusty “no trespassing” warning signs, turn right and yo