Skip to main content

The magic of mushrooms, and forest finds

The forest calls and the woods whisper...
                                       ....they beckon come in,
                                                                              spend some time.

Sunlight glistens on tiny droplets turning them into diamonds before rushing over to streak between towering trees in a race to the ground.


White mushroms on the forest floor from www.ruralmag.com



Mushrooms lie in wait under nursery logs, clinging like crowded crowns filled with fungi jewels on the edge of the slippery wood, hidden under dripping cedar fronds.

It's magical and hushed in the woods, a delicate dance of light and shadows flitting across the path.


Hiker's feet on the path from www.ruralmag.com



Silence presses against the rugged bark of the fir tree, a fitting hiking companion to the mountain.

Moisture drifts up from the path, coating foliage, leaving it glistening, shiny and still. The rhythmic flop of wet pants easing over wet boots keeps time as we walk.

Each serpentine twist of the path, and every footstep with its hard push up the hill widens the glimpse of Autumn color. While breath heaves from lungs with the effort.

The path winds, twists, dips and climbs, each descent showing mushrooms congregated together...shady characters in muted colours.

Fancy frills, and golden glowing oranges, browns, mourning purple, and every shade of beige, and grey imaginable.

It's the mountain's magic...forest and fanfare....and a hiking path that leads us down the hill to home.

Jen @ Rural









Comments

Popular posts from this blog

If A Tree Falls

There's a phrase that reads... If a tree falls                                in the forest........ And no one is there. ....                                 Will anyone hear it? Writing blog posts can feel like that at times...                                 If I write it...                                 Does anyone read it?                                 Should I bother, is it even worth it? Then I realized....a blog post is like a tree in the forest.   If it's been written, someone will read it and even if they don't leave a comment it's still be...

The Bear, the Buck and Bella: Notes from a summer garden

We had a visitor the other night. We get a revolving parade of animals some more welcome then others...this one was stealthy, while the other paraded down the street as if out for an afternoon stroll. One visitor made me smile with delight, the other...every so rudely ate the empty quail egg from my decorative bird's nest on my front porch.  And then it b umped into my heavy garden bench sitting by the front door and moved that a few feet, not my kind of visitor... I've got too many childhood encounters with bears to ever be comfortable with them this close. Camping, and living among their world has makes me observant, but cautious.  After eating the quail egg, the bear decided to try out the path to the front garden, and despite its size, not one blossom was bruised...I will give it that. The young buck was a visitor who waltzed down the street in front of our house. It's fuzzy two point antlers proudly held high, and it brought a smile to our faces...it was curious and bo...

Not wasting a second of this season

It's only the second day of Autumn, and all puns aside.. I've Fall-en in love with this season all over again... The soft warming tones of russets, and golds, the way the colors on the trees have just barely started to glow. It's beautiful and favors us with a glow. It's as if the trees are teasing us by tossing their leaves secretly behind our backs...twinkling down so quietly. Autumn is a graceful ageing process, the reverse of spring when everything is reborn, now it's dying, falling, leaving us...and yet across the world, there is renewal. We're still in the honeymoon stage of this season, it's all new, and oh so beautiful. Remarkable, and remarked upon by nearly everyone. Chock full of a colorful texture that will stay for a while, until suddenly the landscape will reveal it's self as an empty house...bereft, forlorn, windows gaping open sadly. The branches will tighten up with the howling wind, and the once vibrant jewel...