About me

Friday, December 30, 2011

A space alien crash landed

Thursday, December 29, 2011

Changing of the guard

Maybe a microclimate

I was out for a walk about yesterday afternoon towards sunset, and I espied with my little eye these fellows hunkered in the pine straw. 

It's been seasonably cold lately, and it'll only get worse, leaving me to wonder hos a fungus can pull it off in such weather.

My only guess is that the road is built up, and this west facing side drops off about 30 feet. Perhaps the side exposed so directly to the setting sun gets and stays a little warmer than the surrounding area.

Mind you, I do not anticipate testing that hypothesis with a camping trip.

Saturday, December 17, 2011

There were stumps

Can you tell I've been stalking about the neighborhood lately?

On today's walk, I noticed that the grounds crew had been grinding stumps. I don't know why. It just seems that people value an unnatural sameness. Everywhere. Heaven forbid the gravy have a lump. Does know one recall that lumps are often where the good parts are?

Regardless, the stumps are gone. Rendered in a day how they would become on their own in a decade. I don't see the improvement, but that's just me. However, I do see a few mushmoons. Very large and gnarly mushmoons.

This one is growing sideways. I suppose it had started growing, and then the soil was disturbed.

And then there's this one, growing from where a stump was removed much earlier. Peeking through the grass, sufficiently far from the sidewalk to, perhaps, survive. 

Of course, they all have to get through the coming cold, which is going to be a little more chili than the typical mushmoon would prefer. 

Friday, December 16, 2011

December surprises

So I stepped out for an all too short walk this afternoon, and what do I espy in the mulch but some sneaking little mushmoons pushing their heads out just in time for this weekend's frost.

Someone's foot already beat me to this one.

And a few were quite gnarly, much like me, in this brutal winder-coming season.

And then a surprising color, a seashell wannabe, lurking by the edge of a holly. 

Then the phone rang.