Mushrooms grow almost all year long, but they are especially prolific in the Fall. In fact, that is how I often know that Fall is on its way: I smell the mushrooms. I smell them long before I see them. It is a deep, earthly, intoxicating kind of scent, and once you inhale that aroma, you will never forget it. Ever. That is how you know they have come.
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| Amanita muscaria - Yellow Fly Agaric. |
They are sort of between the worlds, are they not? We cannot call them plants and we cannot call
them animals. They have their own
kingdom, and rightly so. For who does
not get that otherworldly feeling when looking at a mushroom? “You are in my territory now,” says the mushroom, “And you must follow my rules if you want to find your way
out of the woods.” And if the mushroom
be pretty, all the more entrancing. Unless
it is too pretty. That can be
dangerous. But they know that.
When the scent of mushrooms is everywhere in the air, I begin
scanning the ground and fallen trees because I know that soon they will poke
their heads up. They can be delicious or
deadly, an ally or a vicious foe. Some
are small and inconspicuous, and others are a foot in diameter, just daring you
to walk by without stopping. You cannot
do it, though. You have to stop and
look. But they know that, too.
They also know a lot about the Fall, much more than we
do. They know when the decay has begun,
and that is why they come. They might
tease with bright colors or pretty textures, but they are the harbingers of the
end. They are the bringers of summer’s
doom.
The drums are beating again in the woods. He is on his way.
