A few days ago I set out for what I thought would be an unedifying walk through my patch in the Forest. Spring is primed but not yet sprung, and today’s snow will tardify things a little longer. I expected little.
I was wrong.
There were encounters, both human and fungal.
I am no mycologist, yet this blaze of colour on a fallen larch stopped me. A False Chanterelle, 𝐻𝑦𝑔𝑟𝑜𝑝ℎ𝑜𝑟𝑜𝑝𝑠𝑖𝑠 𝑎𝑢𝑟𝑎𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑎𝑐𝑎, I think. Primarily terrestrial. Somewhat out of season. And yet there it was, insistent, luminous against late winter’s bronze and muted palette.
It is easy to believe the forest sleeps.
It does not.
If you don’t walk the paths, you will not encounter.
Bear witness.