“Well,” I said to Raymond one evening this past week as we returned home to the Manse from a stroll: “It seems we don’t have a mushroom crop this year.”
(Because last year we had a mushroom crop on the Manse’s front lawn right where the big old maple tree used to stand in my childhood here – the mushrooms emanating, no doubt, from the fungus-y roots of the remains of that old maple after its stump had been cut down and removed.)
Ha! Guess what showed up the very next morning? Of course you have guessed it: a new mushroom crop! Overnight! How does that happen?
And in other overnight news: this past Friday late afternoon/early evening I finished the last bit of raking up of winter leaves and debris from our yard. My final section was the northwest corner of the back yard, and I covered it completely, despite the distraction of being surrounded by a cloud of blackflies for the entire time. So when I was finished, about 7 p.m., I was pretty familiar with that patch of ground. Next morning, about 7 a.m., what do I see? In that same place? Why, a whole bunch of healthily blooming dandelions, where none had existed a mere 12 hours before:
This spring thing is amazing. When I watch the perennials in our flower garden, it’s like time-lapse photography without the time lapse; they are growing before our eyes. But even by those standards, the overnight crop of mushrooms and dandelions was amazing.
You know, what with the interesting things that go on with the plants and the birds, I am pretty sure I could get used to this rural-living thing.