It seems conditions lately have been perfect for sprouting a plethora of fungi. Everywhere we go, we are greeting with fascinating specimens growing on, in, and under tree trunks. This one was really ready for its close-up, lit by a single shaft of sunlight on the shadowy forest floor.
A surprise bloom from our new native plant garden (I thought we’d have to wait for next year). We have so many new and unfamiliar varieties in this garden – I just can’t wait to get to know them as they grow.
Sometimes the dog is pulling your arm and you have an art fair in the morning and your son is scooping minnows in the creek, and you’re telling him it’s time to go and then the sunlight comes and hits a big tangle of dead forest undergrowth JUST SO and it all turns into a gestural scribble, a linear sculpture, a study of light & shadow. It’s nothing really. And, yet, it’s full of movement and life and death and struggle and some little bit of grace.
Sometimes all you get is that one moment, that one shot. And then it all keeps moving.
Every time I see one of these huge puff balls, it brings me back to my 70’s childhood. We used to have to stop the car so my mom and grandma could climb into the ditch to pick them. Back home, they were given the AquaNet treatment and put on display.