Thursday, October 16, 2014
Why do I like mushrooms? It started when I had kids. I like to walk in nature, Henry David Thoreau of Walden fame is my spirit animal. He wrote a marvelous essay "On Walking."
I had imagined this, the scene when all the animals approach Snow White, but when I would walk in the forest with the kids when they were toddlers everything that could run from us would run from us. Even when we were trying to be silent and cat-footed, we were scary-loud. We jangled with sippy cups. "Mommy is that a fwox!?" my daughter would yell, lisping. "Or is that a wrock?!"
Mushrooms were the only thing that didn't run, because they couldn't. So I got in to mushrooms.
I said to the kids, "This is a bolete." And we would poke the orange-yellow flesh with a stick and watch it bruise. If it bruised purple, it aided us in identification. We made spore prints on construction paper that were surprisingly beautiful. I encouraged the kids in their mycological pursuits by telling them about fairy circles.
They're older now and have falling out of love with their foraging baskets and don't believe my umbrellas for gnomes stories, but I haven't fallen out of love with mushrooms. A whole troupe (yes, troupe like actors is the collective noun for a group mushrooms) of yellow-capped sp. amanita appeared on the lawn out of the blue yesterday, like magic.
Maybe this is why I feel a kinship with them. They're not there, then they're there. Then they're gone.
But not gone, gone underground, in their hyphae, those mats of tender-strong threads that spread through the soil helping trees grow, and our crops grow, enabling oxygen for us to breathe and food for us to eat. Though they are unseeable by the naked eye, they are the world's largest organism.
Posted by Elizabeth Bastos at 9:11 AM