wandering in woods

Some days when I went into the woods I would find wild strawberries, other days my shoes would be spotted with mud. I wouldn't trust picking mushrooms the way my grandfather used to, he knew which ones were poisonous, I didn't and asked myself what is the purpose that we each one of us have to learn about the same risks every generation again. I hoped I would have enherited somehow detailed knowledge about the mushrooms, preferably with pictures. Instead I seemed to have inherited a few less fortunate family memories among better ones.