The Season Begins
A poem, while we all wait in anticipation of the first coastal rains that bring the autumn boletes and a wealth of fungal fruiting. Regardless of your preference for edibles and/or rich fungal diversity, it is difficult to ignore each passing day that brings us closer to local forays.
Bill McGuire
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September 1, 2010
Boletus edulis. © Alan Rockefeller (from mushroomobserver.org
The sounds and smells of fall in the air, fat pumpkins lying in the fields
Wood smoke rising lazily, moon in apogee, full, the summer yields
A quiet breeze rustles the leaves, leaving only a faint sound
Like the flutter of the Fairies’ wings heard in ghostly flight
The leaves winter colored, frost crisp’d, dry in their season of death
Slowly twist, and then suddenly free, fall silently to the ground
Warm mists of October, November rains, fairy rings up last night
Baskets ready, anticipation, mushrooms thrusting, pounding hearts
A good day, baskets full, shadows long, campfire blazing, happy sounds
Of those dying leaves, give thanks, they have had their season in the sun
Their short life has run, in their dying commences a new life, the fungal mycelium
Mushrooms, in their turn, become the leaves; their life cycle then to be o’er
As nature intended, their day in the rain has quickly run, ad infinitum
Mushroom lovers: observe the leaves as they twist and turn and fall to mother earth
Observe, prepare, it’s soon our turn, our day in the sun, and our season of rebirth
—Bill McGuire 2010
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