Esculenta.

They're coming.  I can smell them.

Elf.

The Mushroom is the Elf of Plants - 

At Evening, it is not

At Morning, in a Truffled Hut

It stop opon a Spot

As if it tarried always

And yet it’s whole Career

Is shorter than a Snake’s Delay - 

And fleeter than a Tare - 

’Tis Vegetation’s Juggler - 

The Germ of Alibi - 

Doth like a Bubble antedate

And like a Bubble, hie - 

I feel as if the Grass was pleased

To have it intermit - 

This surreptitious Scion

Of Summer’s circumspect.

Had Nature any supple Face

Or could she one contemn - 

Had Nature an Apostate - 

That Mushroom - it is Him!

Emily Dickinson 

Mushrooms.

Potter, Lepiota friesii, 1895

When you think of Beatrix Potter, you might think of one of her beloved creations: the gullible Jemima Puddleduck, impertinent Squirrel Nutkin or, of course, the foolhardy Peter Rabbit, risking it all in Mr McGregor’s garden for a few broad beans and radishes.

You’re probably less likely to think of mushrooms.

CONNECT

Seek.

The WILD MUSHROOM

Well the sunset rays are shining

Me and Kai have got our tools
A basket and a trowel
And a book with all the rules

Don’t ever eat Boletus
If the tube-mouths they are red
Stay away from the Amanitas
Or brother you are dead

Sometimes they’re already rotten
Or the stalks are broken off
Where the deer have knocked them over
While turning up the duff

We set out in the forest
To seek the wild mushroom
In shapes diverse and colorful
Shining through the woodland gloom

If you look out under oak trees
Or around an old pine stump
You’ll know a mushroom’s coming
By the way the leaves are humped

They send out multiple fibers
Through the roots and sod
Some make you mighty sick they say
Or bring you close to God

So here’s to the mushroom family
A far-flung friendly clan
For food, for fun, for poison

They are a help to man.

Gary Snyder