On my way to the Eastport Market I passed a hand-lettered sign: “Fresh Morels.” On the way back I stopped at the impromptu morel stand on US-31. Canny little merchants, these.
How much? I wanted to know. $23 per quart, they told me, not batting an eye. Yikes. I inspected the goods. They had an entire cooler full. I did the math. Something like $300 worth of morels here. Yikes.
They looked pretty fresh, and they were morels, not the pesky false morels that have been sending people to the hospital. In fact, they looked pretty darned good. But $23 per quart – yikes. I decided I could live without them, and headed home.
I pondered. Back in the day I was tickled to earn a whole dime for an afternoon’s Kool-Aid stand effort. That tells you much more about how ancient I am than it does about the economy. But still. Yikes.
I hope the little pirates do well. Better them than a lot of other promoters I can think of. They have the goods and they tell you the price right up front, no fooling around. I respect that. Yikes.