On the garden path I notice more mushrooms that look a daisy made of wood. So much detail in each one. A happy form of anemone?
OK--this is getting fun. So much for the weeding. That can happen tomorrow--right? A darling little mushroom in the grass--so dainty I almost miss it.
The pleats on this one--modern and perfect. Yes, this one would almost make a nice white on white quilt, wouldn't it? (You see I never go very long without thinking about quilts do I?)
I see one so dainty and poised it seems to stretch forever.
What fun this was. Could I find one more before I headed to the studio? I walked in the woods. Yes, where I remembered them. The haunting white of the Indian pipe. At least that is what I call it.
I always hope to find them at least once a year. And then it was time to head down the hill. But what a nice morning it was. Certainly I don't know anything about mushrooms or any other fungi--and would never ever dream of eating them unless I had a well-qualified guide--but there is something about just searching for the different shapes and sizes of these mushrooms that made the morning so magical and complete. Have you ever done this?