A Nice Find

The Graveyard Gives Back: A Vacation Surprise

There’s a unique anxiety that sets in before a vacation, and for a mushroom grower, it’s not just about remembering your passport. As I was frantically packing for a week away, my mind wasn’t on beach towels; it was on substrate blocks. Every grower knows the feeling of leaving their little kingdom of fungi unattended—it's an exercise in trust. You set your timers, triple-check your humidity, and send a little prayer to the mycelial gods that the great green monster of contamination doesn’t throw a rager in your absence. This time, however, I had a few shoeboxes of colonized substrate that were ready for fruiting, and leaving them inside just wasn't an option.

A Hasty Farewell to the Fungi

My solution was simple, if a bit unceremonious. I took the blocks out to what I affectionately call my "spent substrate graveyard". It’s a shady little spot under some bushes where my old, exhausted blocks go to gracefully return to the earth. After a couple of good flushes, this is their final resting place—a compost pile for forgotten soldiers of harvests past. Among them were a few blocks of Psilocybe ochraceocentrata I had tossed out right before leaving. I gave them a little nod, wished them well, and headed off for a week of blissful laziness.

An Unexpected Welcome Home

Returning home is always a mixed bag. There's the contentment of time off clashing with the dread of unpacking that suitcase sitting by the door. My first order of business, as always, was to check on my indoor grows. Everything looked fine, but then I glanced out the window toward the graveyard. And I did a double-take. Lying there amongst the leaves, where I had left a pale block of mycelium, was a cluster of beautiful, robust mushrooms. They had clearly enjoyed their week outdoors. These weren't sad-looking pins; they were big, sturdy specimens with nice fat caps, strongly reminiscent of something you’d find thriving in a cow field. It was the absolute magic of cultivation—a resilient organism deciding, on its own terms, that it had one last beautiful gift to give.

A Brewer's Reward

This is the real heart of the hobby. It’s not just the planned, perfect harvests, but the unexpected treasures that make you fall in love with the process over and over. The mycelial network is a marvel of persistence; just when you think it's done, it finds a way. Perhaps a cool front or a good rain shower was the trigger it needed for one last hurrah. I harvested the beautiful flush and brewed up a batch of tea. To my surprise, unlike any mushroom tea I’ve made before, it turned a deep, intimidating blue-black color. It looks potent, so I think I’ll start with just half of it tomorrow. I have a feeling I’ll have a good story to tell.

So next time you think a block is spent, don't just toss it in the trash. Find a shady spot in your yard, give it a home, and let nature take its course. You might just be rewarded with a delightful surprise of your own. What’s the most unexpected flush you’ve ever found? Let me know in the comments!

Happy Cultivating!