As you can see from my bare toe-for-scale, it was a moist warm afternoon. I had to look these mushrooms up. Clavarioid fungi they're called. There were quite a few in this cluster, some yellow, some white, springing up from decaying vegetation. The part we're looking at is the branched coral-like fruit body. I watched a YouTube video, "Cooking with Tam" which included how to harvest, but decided to leave mine alone.
I'm also hoping to better capture the turning leaves this year. This is a scrawny old dogwood, but still the hints of red drew my attention. A hanging basket of mums brightens the foreground.
I'm following up on all the pleasures I wrote about in "Note to Self," 9/26/20. That post ended with the admonition "Vote. Pray. Create. Love. Believe." I've done a bit of each today--even voted. We stood in a socially-distanced outdoor line for 2 1/2 hours to cast our early ballot. How good that felt! As you can see, in North Carolina tangled undergrowth encroaches even on polling places. We vote in Hillsborough, a historic pre-Revolutionary War town located on the Eno River. Beautiful in the fall.
Don't you love the changes follow the seasons? Funny how many years we can live and never tire of the simplest pleasures of them all. Sunshine, rain, falling leaves, bright berries, birdsong, breezes . . . . As I write these words I actually feel them. How the sun, rain and leaves in autumn rest so gently upon us. Breezes not too warm, not too cool. By our walkway the late-fall camellias are a breath away from blooming; the ready buds dip impatiently. Soon, soon ready for a picture. Ready for my tablescape.
I'm not sure what foraging is a metaphor for. I know sometimes we forage not just outdoors, but in the attic of our own thoughts. Gather, collect, manage, craft, build . . . . We can forage anywhere.
Enjoy the season!
No comments:
Post a Comment