I expected this fall’s crop of mushrooms would be different from last season’s given our highly changeable conditions these days.
Fungi, slime molds and lichens can tell when conditions are right to produce fruiting bodies and disperse spores. That window of opportunity appeared to come quite early in spring and summer this year. But interesting examples are still popping up. If I manage to capture worthy portraits of their splendid forms, I will add them below.
When I went for my walk this morning, there was quite a gathering on the crest of the hill in Robbins Farm Park. The sun had not quite risen and a pink dawn mixed with gray clouds. There could easily be over a hundred of them – one of the largest gatherings I had ever seen in this park.
I asked a young man why they were here, he told me that it was “Senior Sunrise.” Evidently, my town’s high school takes advantage of the opportunity that the park presents for seniors to witness the dawn of a new day over Boston.
I had come out hoping to catch sight of the “super blue moon.” This second full moon of the month is referred to as a “blue moon” because they are relatively rare. In this case, it was also a “supermoon” which occurs when the moon is closest to us in its orbit around earth making the full moon appear a bit larger than usual.
I was lucky to catch it – just visible in a gap between trees to my right:
As the crowd began to disperse, I overheard a young lady say, “The bad classes only got worse, while the good classes got better but I find it hard to concentrate after 45 minutes no matter what class it is. I’m glad that’s over.”
Although I refuse to consider myself superstitious, I was surprised to realize that getting older has only made me hope all the more that the conjunction of a lovely sunrise and a super blue moon might prove particularly auspicious for these young people who were moving on with their lives in particularly challenging times.
At first, I thought it might be the unusually warm days and all the rain, but lilies, especially the common orange day lilies (not true lilies) that were brought by early European settlers, had long graced my town. Perhaps it was just that specific gardeners had planted lilies where I could not help but notice their joyful spirit.
A woman told me that she was the gardener who had planted all the different lilies in the “hellstrip” by the sidewalk. She told me that she did not own the land where they were planted. I said I was sure the town would not mind, especially as she had carefully added stakes to keep the riot of color and form from flopping out into the street.
Once again it has been an unusually rainy spring and summer with mushrooms in mossy spots in the woods as well as in our yards and even cracks in sidewalks.
Now that I have been paying more careful attention for a couple of years, I am finding examples that you might not normally think of as mushrooms, as well as slime molds with their fruiting bodies deposited where the wind can help with propagation.
Wasn’t it a bit early for mushrooms? I had never seen such a fuzzy yellow growth. Perhaps it was something else. When I posted a photo online, I learned it might be a young dyer’s polypore. Evidently, the timing of all kinds of things is more variable these days.
I found two. They both started out as fuzzy yellow lumps and kept changing. Dyer’s polypore seemed correct as there were certainly pores rather than the usual gills on the undersides.
I learned dyer’s polypores can be used to stain fibers a number of different colors – yellows, various shades of browns and even greens – depending on the type of fiber and how it is pretreated. This video shows it being used to dye wool lovely shades of yellow.
The first two photos below show the two I found mid-way through their cycle and the remaining photos show the changes that each went through closer in.
After noticing the effects of light at the highest elevation of Menotomy Rocks park, I began to notice the many interesting compositions that would fade and reappear lower down along its dirt paths.
Leaves seemed to be acting like lenses producing patterns with soft rounded shapes while crisp leaf and branch shapes danced over the paths. I had found another worthy subject to capture in photos. No matter how often I come here, this nearby park can surprise me with new delights.
Trees have taken root among the moss and lichen-covered granite outcrops in a secluded high spot in Menotomy Rocks Park. There are wide open spaces between patches of vegetation where the soil is deep enough to support larger roots.
Morning or evening are generally considered good times to capture light and shadows, but up here, the noon sun creates interesting shadows as well. This high spot with its scattered blueberry bushes and mixture of trees always seems so much more alive on a bright sunny day.
Japanese maple trees can have brighter colors in spring than in the fall with interesting transformations as tender new leaves unfurl or flatten their accordion pleats.
Like many Japanese gardens, my garden’s design keeps flowery distractions to a minimum so as to better appreciate the radiant moss, and in this season, the new maple leaves that bring me such joy.
The odds of finding that particular rock again seemed slim. When I first noticed it in the leaf litter, it looked organic, perhaps a late season fungus, so I took a quick photo and continued on without noting the location.
But in reviewing the photos I took on that walk, I realized that this was no fungus. The interesting bubbly texture was glassy, not soft, and clearly part of an agate; I saw suggestions of macro quartz crystals within fortification bands. It was quite unlike the common gray, white veined, or sometimes salmon and green rocks that lie scattered everywhere in Menotomy Rocks Park.
Agates are not normally found in eastern Massachusetts. Perhaps a glacier picked this one up, carrying it some distance from its point of origin.
I would welcome the opportunity to examine the agate from all angles, if I ever come across it again, but it somehow seems fitting for this rare treasure to remain hidden in plain sight among the many rocks of its new woodland home.
Since many abalone are rapidly disappearing from their rocky coastal homes, I was lucky that lovely shells from all over the world were still available online. Originally, I wanted to take closeups of the iridescent interiors. I did not anticipate that the other side would also be worthy of careful study.
For a particular species, the shape seemed fairly consistent but the colors and patterns could vary all over the place. While the interiors could be mysterious and speak of the tides and the sea, the spiraling exteriors could seem like expressions of pure joy.
Radiant Refuge 