https://www.thip.media/diet-and-nutrition/do-certain-mushrooms-support-brain-health/99280/?utm_source=wpchannel&utm_medium=Social&utm_campaign=questions

She went with her son to pick wild strawberries... and accidentally overheard something she would have been better off not knowing" Marina and Fyodor were doctors at the same hospital, loving parents of five-year-old Yuri. It seemed like their family was strong, and their relationship stable. But fate had other plans. Fyodor became interested in a young woman—the daughter of the chief doctor. Beautiful, noble, with an influential father... And as it turned out, with a direct path to career advancement for ambitious employees. Youth and beauty might not have played a decisive role, but it was this combination that became an irresistible temptation for Fyodor. He didn’t hide his intentions from his wife. He honestly declared: — I’m in love. We’re no longer together. Marina was crushed, but she didn’t fight for her husband. She silently accepted his decision, swallowed the bitterness of betrayal, and simply quit her job at the hospital. She couldn’t bear seeing the person who had become a stranger every day. But her trials didn’t end there. Fyodor declared that he would stay in their shared apartment and take it for himself completely. — Did I pull you out of your mother’s house? Then go back to her, — he said coldly. And Marina’s mother lived in a tiny one-room apartment, where there was barely enough space for herself. Returning there with her child was impossible. And then there were the rumors, spread by Fyodor and his new patrons. No clinic in the city wanted to hire this "married" female doctor. The city became unbearable. Staying any longer would mean losing herself. Marina made a desperate decision: with her last savings, she bought a small house in the countryside. There, it seemed, she could start anew. And she was right. In the village, where there were hardly any specialists, she was welcomed with joy, and the locals even helped her settle in. The house was very simple, but the locals—kind and helpful—fixed the roof, warmed the stove, and helped her adjust to her new life. Marina found a job at a health post, and a neighbor, a lonely woman in her sixties, was happy to watch Yuri while she was on calls. Gradually, Marina began to feel almost happy. She had work, the respect of those around her, warmth, and a home. Yuri also adapted, although he sometimes got sad—there were no children his age in the village, and the local boys teased him: "City softy," "clumsy," "mama's boy." But Marina believed: with time, her son would find friends. For now, he had his mother, and around them was the beautiful nature. There was a forest nearby, full of berries and mushrooms, and a wide river, where they said there were plenty of fish. — And we have wild strawberries in summer—up to our knees! — the villagers told them. — You walk into the forest, and it’s like walking on a red carpet! Since spring, Yuri had been asking to go into the forest: — Mom, let’s go already! They say they taste better than strawberries, and it’s free! Please! — It’s too early, son, — Marina gently held him back. — The snowdrops are just blooming now. Wait a little longer—soon we’ll wander through these forests. We’ll pick berries, mushrooms, maybe even find some nuts! And then the long-awaited summer arrived. Sunny, generous. Yuri remembered his wish: — Mom, let’s go to the forest today? Grandma Nyusha says the berries are already ripe. She would go herself, but her back hurts. Let’s pick some and bring them to her! — Okay, — Marina smiled. — Only on the weekend. I promise—lots of berries, lots of impressions. At the appointed time, they went to the forest. They got so caught up in gathering and playing that they almost reached the river. — Should we go fishing here? — Yuri asked. — You can’t catch fish so easily, — Marina laughed. — You need tackle, knowledge... Maybe we should ask someone to take us along? But at that moment, her gaze fell on two men standing at the water’s edge. By their looks and behavior, it was immediately clear—they were not locals. One of them held a thick bag, from which something was faintly moving. — Looks like it’s still alive, — one of them mumbled. — So what? It will be alive now, then drown—who cares, — the other replied harshly. — We should put some metal in there... Like bricks. — Go find bricks, if you’ve got nothing better to do! — the first one snapped irritably. — Hurry up, I’m tired of this. Marina’s heart froze. Something was clearly breathing in the bag. It wasn’t a human—too small—but an animal. And definitely alive... If you'd like to continue or need more specific context, feel free to ask.. 📖 Read the continuation in the comments ⬇️

Spicy Chicken livers with mushrooms 😍 Ingredients 1kg chicken livers 2 cups chopped mushrooms 250ml fresh cream 1 tblsp sundried tomatoes 1 onion chopped 1 tsp garlic minced 1 tsp paprika 1 tsp ground cumin 1 tbsp seven colours grill seasoning 1tsp chilli flakes 1 tsp mixed herbs Salt and pepper Method Heat oil in a pan over medium heat and brown chicken livers for 3 minutes Transfer the browned livers to a plate and set aside Add onions,garlic, mushrooms sundried tomatoes , paprika, ground cumin, seven colours grill seasoning, chilli flakes, mixed herbs, fresh cream and let it simmer for 3 minutes and return browned livers to the pot, season with salt and pepper and cook for 10 to 15 minutes minutes #food

"YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO BE A WIFE, NOT A GUEST!" MY HUSBAND SH0UTED WHEN I REFUSED TO COOK FOR HIS FAMILY “And my opinion doesn’t matter to anyone?” Natasha said, placing the dustpan back on the shelf as she turned to her husband. There was pain in her voice. “I’m a person too, Lucifer. I’m tired.” “You must remember you’re a wife, not a guest!” Lucifer barked, his face reddening with anger. “You have responsibilities to the family!” Natasha tapped her fingers on the countertop, watching as the kettle began to bubble, filling the kitchen with steam. The Sunday morning air was unusually quiet, as though the world had decided to grant her a brief reprieve. Sunlight filtered through the sheer curtains, gently illuminating every corner, every speck of dust. For a moment, she simply stood there, soaking in the rare stillness. Five years ago, when Lucifer and Natasha had moved into the apartment, its walls were bare, the décor minimal. Now, every corner radiated warmth and comfort. She remembered the time spent choosing the perfect wallpaper for the living room, the endless debates with Lucifer over the color of the curtains, and the joy she felt when she finally found the ideal sofa. “Good morning,” Lucifer greeted sleepily as he shuffled into the kitchen. “What’s for breakfast?” “Omelet with mushrooms and tomatoes,” Natasha said with a smile, pulling ingredients from the fridge. “And some fresh coffee.” Lucifer approached her from behind, wrapping his arms around her shoulders. “You really are the mistress of the house, aren’t you?” he remarked in a tone that immediately put Natasha on guard. Something about his voice hinted at an ulterior motive. “What’s wrong?” Natasha asked, narrowing her eyes. “Nothing in particular,” Lucifer replied, looking away. “It’s just that my mother and Katherine plan to drop by. Just for lunch.” Natasha exhaled sharply. “Just for a little while” in Lucifer’s family often stretched into long hours. She clenched her fists, fighting to keep her frustration from showing. “What time will they arrive?” she asked, her voice already laced with tension. “Around one or two,” Lucifer said, pausing before adding, “and… Katherine will bring the kids.” Natasha silently counted to ten. Katherine’s six-year-old twins were more than mischievous—they were miniature hurricanes. After their visits, the apartment always resembled the aftermath of a war zone. “Fine,” Natasha said, grabbing a frying pan and turning on the stove. “I suppose I’ll have to dash to the store—there’s not enough food.” “Honey, you know how much my mother loves your dishes,” Lucifer said, trying to pull her into an embrace. But Natasha sidestepped, pretending not to notice. Victoria Demson, Lucifer’s mother, never missed an opportunity to critique Natasha’s cooking. Sometimes the soup was too salty, sometimes the meat undercooked, and sometimes the salad was labeled too bland. By two o’clock, the apartment sparkled with cleanliness. In the oven, a casserole of potatoes and meat roasted, filling the air with its mouthwatering aroma. In the fridge sat the cake that Victoria adored, waiting to be served. The doorbell rang at precisely 14:15. Natasha adjusted her apron and went to answer. “Niku-sha!” Victoria Demson burst into the hallway like a whirlwind, her coat trailing behind her. “How are you, dear?” Katherine followed closely, her twins charging into the living room without removing their shoes. “Kids, shoes!” Natasha called out sharply. “Oh, let them be,” Victoria interjected, waving her hand dismissively. “You know how hard it is for them to sit still.” Natasha pressed her lips together, watching dirty footprints streak across her light carpet. Every time, she wondered why no one taught them to remove their shoes, but she kept her thoughts to herself. No one listened anyway. “What’s for lunch?” Katherine asked, stepping into the kitchen. “Oh, casserole? Mom, remember the one I made last week with mushrooms? It was a masterpiece!” “Of course I do, sweetheart,” Victoria said with a smile, settling at the table. “Niku-sha, you could learn a thing or two from Katherine. She has such a talent for cooking.” Natasha stayed silent, methodically arranging the c:u:tlery. From the living room, a cra$h echoed—something had fallen to the floor. “Lucifer, can you see what your nephews have done?” Natasha said calmly. “Oh, come on,” Lucifer replied dismissively, not even looking up. “Let them play—they’re just kids.” “Exactly!” Victoria chimed in. “Niku-sha, you’re so proper. Everything has to be perfect with you.” “I just like order,” Natasha replied softly. “There should be life in a home!” Victoria declared loudly. “You’re always fussing over cleanliness, Niku-sha. Imagine if you had kids—you’d be chasing them with a rag all day!” Natasha felt her cheeks b:u:rn. The topic of children was a raw one—after two failed pregnancies, doctors had advised her to wait before trying again. She sw@ll0wed the words b:u:rning on her t0ngue and stayed silent. Lunch unfolded in the same ve!n. Victoria offered unsolicited advice, Katherine boasted about her culinary skills, and the twins left a trail of cha0s throughout the apartment. Lucifer sat back, seemingly enjoying the lively atmosphere, oblivious to the growing tension in Natasha. “You know, Niku-sha,” Victoria said, finishing her second slice of cake, “Katherine and I were thinking—maybe we should gather at your place every Sunday? Your kitchen is so spacious, and you cook… well, with soul.” SEE THE CONTINUATION IN THE COMMENTS BELOW! ⬇️⬇️

The Hidden Gold Beneath Our Feet: A Forester’s Tale of Mushrooms and Nature's Magic As a professional forester and wildlife conservationist, I’ve often marveled at the majestic trees and the diverse creatures that roam the forests. In the quiet shadows, another wonder grows—often unnoticed but just as essential. Let me share a story with you about one of nature’s most mysterious gifts: mushrooms. Once upon a time, deep in the misty forests of Obanliku, there was a secret that only the earth knew. Hidden beneath the shadows of towering trees and between the rocks of fertile mountains, mushrooms thrived—an ancient treasure, quietly waiting to be discovered. While everyone marveled at the cocoa trees and the grazing cattle, few realized the magic growing just beneath their feet. One morning, as I wandered through the forest, my attention was drawn to a cluster of mushrooms that seemed to glow in the early sunlight. These weren't just any mushrooms; their delicate caps shimmered with shades of brown and white, and the way they sprouted in unison made me pause. "Ah," I thought, "nature's little surprise." It reminded me of how easily we overlook the small wonders of the world while chasing after the big, shiny rewards. In many cultures, mushrooms have always held a mystical reputation. Some see them as food, rich in nutrients and flavor. Others view them as medicine, capable of healing. But in Obanliku, many don’t pay them much attention, yet these humble fungi play a vital role in the ecosystem. They break down dead matter, returning nutrients to the soil, feeding the trees and plants that we so often admire. I recalled —a tale of how the first people of Obanliku discovered that mushrooms could be food and medicine. One day, during a time of great hunger, a hunter found himself lost in the forest. With no food to sustain him, he nearly gave up. But as he lay on the forest floor, he noticed a strange, white mushroom beside him. Weak and desperate, he plucked it and tasted it. To his surprise, it filled him with strength and energy, enough to find his way home. Since then, mushrooms have been seen as a gift from the forest, helping people in their time of need. Today, I see mushrooms as a reminder that sometimes, what we need the most isn't the most obvious. Just as our community strives to rebuild its agricultural wealth and heal the land from bush burning, we must also learn to appreciate the overlooked treasures around us. Mushrooms may not be as glamorous as cocoa, but in their quiet way, they contribute just as much. So the next time you find yourself in the forest, take a moment to look down. You never know what hidden wonders might be growing right under your feet. #crossriverforest #nature #CrossRiver #wildlife #mushrooms #mushroomhunting