mystery

home of the Ellen and Geoffrey Fletcher mysteries

Posts Tagged mushrooms

Funny fruit.

Jul 9

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Just two days left. Of course you can purchase the books any time,
but the world-wide free-for-all price special ends Monday midnight,
10 July 2017, 12:00 pm AST (amazon standard time),
a potential savings of hundreds of pennies.
Why resist?

 

 

 

With all the rain,

mushrooms large and not very large

rise from the roots below,

pink and yellow,

white

and red,

and shy,


while well above the ground the butterfly bush flowers
are at full bloom
but it’s a year of hardly any butterflies.

And fallen to the ground, here and there,
reminders that the green season
is not forever

that winter, as ever, plays with us.

 

 

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Final fruits.

Sep 6

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Fewer peppers, eggplants, and tomatoes each time you check,

the last big mess of beans,

the last full tray of romas,

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one perfect unexploded chestnut,

and, after a little rain,

the blooms from below

visit us briefly

in the air up here.

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Fauna & fungi, living easy.

Jul 31

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Not much, but the bit of rain,
got the suspended droplets and the light just right,

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shined up the ornament in the grass,
of cloudy crystal quartz,

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and awakened the giants underground,

to upthrust their sort-of flowers here and there,

sharing sometimes with a bird

some seeming prematurely aged,

scarlet and stark whites,

with accidental happy faces,

and with delicious detail.

While, on a different scale, walking on the grass,
the lone doe, Bones, feasts warily on bird-scattered seeds.

Later, down the lawn, shy Esmeralda and her still-spotted twins
from a finch eye view.

After nightfall, on the counter, yes, katydid,
she thought my camera might be a snack.

Outside, the affable ongoing everyday pillage of the feeders.

Our neighbor was sure he saw a bear’s butt slip into the brush
about halfway between our house and his,
a little fellow, 150 pounds max.

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Duration, variable: rock for the ages, spore for a day.

Aug 11

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We wondered, when we first walked the trails here below the Little Sandy Bald,
if the blocks of quartz we saw every three or four steps,
pebble size to boulder size, clear and rosy and cloudy,
held rubies or emeralds inside,
or sapphires, the fancy forms of quartz.

Walking on jewels; we still are.

In nature, square corners.

Quartz with veins.

Most fungal entities are brief,
pop through the soil for a week
then begin immediately to decay.

Sun shock.

Lichen shelf.

But some harden and settle in for the long term.
And become habitats themselves.

New to me.

New variety.

90º around the trunk,
slipped sidewards in time
comes a fresh beginning.

We all did.

Ooze of birth.

The Jain swish the path before their steps
to insure they don’t crush a bug.
I’m less moved by bugs, but hate to find I’ve crushed one of these.

Thrust their buried spores.

Just looks phallic.

Or a family of these.

Read my mind.

Loam cardinals.

Or even one of these.

Holding a little rain.

Just one.

Not this.

Almost all the way around.

Member of extended family.

Not these.

Puff the magic.

Spore bomb.

Or this one.

Citrus are us.

Just one of these, a hole to breathe or blow.

The parent organisms live underground,
safe from my steps,
busy being the synapses between tree roots
powering the internet of trees.
Really: this is fresh-made science.

Be thankful God does not spend all his time deciding softball games
and litigating kidney stones.

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