A morel is born

Many years ago, when my father was still alive, my grandfather had been having trouble finding morels. He paid his way through college delivering ice blocks and morels and had decades of experience finding them. Somewhere, presumably while on patrol, my father found a morel statue and stopped by to see my grandfather. He placed the statue on the left in my grandfather's yard and asked him how mushroom hunting was going. Reporting to my father that he'd had no luck my father asked him how he missed the one in his own yard, taking him outside to see the statue. A decade after my father died my grandfather died and at his funeral my great uncle retold this somewhat known story. My grandfather's second wife auctioned off the house and its contents, but before this could happen though my great uncle stole the statue out of the yard to give to me. Fast forward another 12 years and I buy my first house, find a nearly identical statue on eBay and purchased it back in November of last year. Today I was finally able to get around to painting it. This family relic will remain safe in my office while the new one will represent it in my yard, under an evergreen, just like the original did in my grandfather's yard for all those years.