Just when you think you know a plant, it morphs on you.
The Coffee Cups/West Indian Kale/Colocasia escuelenta was unhappy.
I moved it. It loved the new spot beside the small pond. More sun, more water…
I loved it there too, until the leaves turned into “Coffee Cup Caterpillar Crappers.”
Then the Yellow Jackets started using the leaves as their levy. They hold water you see.
Then came the creepers. Long skinny purple arms reaching out in all directions.
One even grew down into the fish pond.
Since when do elephant ears have runners?
I love them for their swirly venation
and their purple stems and ribs
and how water beads up on the leaves
and how the curled up new leaves look like closed umbrellas
and the heart-shape of the leaves
and that the baby leaves have a blue hue.
I just love this plant, despite all its quirks.
I am glad, because it looks like I will have many more.
I went into the woods this evening
to try to locate a lovely bracket fungi that I had photographed previously.
I needed to look up to find it,
but one must always look down while walking in the woods.
This is how I found the path…
of white mushrooms.
Yes, they are poisonous Amanitas. They are lovely but deadly.
Fear not. I was following their path, not eating them.
A circle of these is called a fairy ring, so I thought of this as a fairy path.
If YOU found a fairy path in the woods wouldn’t YOU follow it?
Every ten feet or so was another cluster of lovely, glowing, white mushrooms.
It went on and on until I had to pause in awe.
There before my very eyes was the Mother of all mushrooms.
It was big enough to wear as a hat.
It was a magical adventure. I am so lucky.
The FLOWER follows a poisonous path through the woods and survives to tell the tale.
There is devastation in Texas, Mexico, Florida and many of the Islands below Florida.
Once all the power and water are back on, there is a big souvenir pile left.
Debris. Non-biodegradable. Non-reusable. Trash.
Soggy sheet rock, insulation, plastics, moldy furniture, ruined appliances and cars…
Dig a hole? Throw it in it? Have you forgotten the water table below?
Nature experiences its own devastation.
Who cleans up?
They break down the dead trees and leaves and return the nutrients to the soil.
This isn’t the end of the story.
Things eat the mushrooms. They are food for the living, while living off of the dead.
That’s called a cycle. The circle of life.
Until we humans figure out we are all part of this same web,
we may end up in one of these holes we keep digging.
Across the lake, past the island, under the bridge,
around the bend, through the farm pond
left of the rushes and mallows,
up the creek, under the hornet’s nest
through the floating fungi,
over the sand bar, down by the liverworts
toward the sound of running water, up to the rocks
there is a lovely little water fall.
I took a walk down our road this evening.
I wanted to photograph two of our wildflowers.
The orange Jewel weed was being molested by a group of hummingbirds.
They were zipping through the patch, shaking the plants and making all kinds of racket.
Periodically one would sit and rest on the nearby Pokeberry weed.
I also wanted to get some pictures of hearts-a-bustin’.
I cut across my neighbors’ property on the way home.
I found even more fungi.
This snail is having this knocked-over-one for supper.
I gave it back after the photo.
‘Tis the season!
Snails love their ‘shrooms!
We are together every day.
We work side by side.
We look at each other as we pass.
We rarely touch, unless by accident or of necessity.
No need to speak.
They know me.
I know them.
I am one of them.
If you want to go where it’s cool and quiet, go up river.
As you travel, you feel you are leaving everything behind.
Floating between the water and sky with the wind in your hair,
Quietly cruising past the lazy life along the river.
The air gets cooler as the water gets colder.
It’s time to soak in some sunshine.
Sit on the shore.
Maybe hang out with Huck Finn
or lay low with only a couch and a cooler.
The only sounds are quiet sounds up river.
The wind passing through the grasses,
and the water lapping the shore,
or the an eagle flapping its wings.
the splash of a fish or the plop of a turtle leaving its log.
Life is slow up river.
We know when we turn around,
that we will yearn for this peace.
But the wind blows us and the current takes us back to our lives.
Waiting for us to get busy again.
When the ground is too soggy to dig in,
I put on my rubber shoes and go mushroom hunting.
I do not eat what I find.
I like my liver too much to risk eating a poisonous fungus.
This snail is enjoying a snack.
I only know common names of some of these. Please forgive my ignorance.
I have always been fascinated by fungi.
Maybe I should start another blog called fungialley.
I consider fungi both beautiful and beneficial.
I took all these photos this past weekend in my yard and in the woods behind my house.
I did go out in a kayak and found some floating fungi. That will be another post.
If a reader knows the true identifications of any of these, please send me a message.
FLOWER loves fungi.
In September most flowers are drying up and needing dead-heading.
Not the sedums. They have been slowly stretching out their clusters of green buds.
As the tiny flowers open the entire head blushes with color.
You don’t need to look to know if they are blooming, you can HEAR it.
Each colorful head is full of all kinds of bumble bees, honey bees, wasps, butterflies, moths and lightening bugs.
It’s like a party on every plant.