Autumn is the time of year when the plants and trees around us are losing their leaves and dying back from their growth, but it is also the time when we see the growth of mushrooms, the fruiting bodies of fungi now ready to release their spores. There are more fungi species than plant species, and the fastest organism on the planet is the hat thrower fungus.  It lives on cow pats and needs to throw its spores far enough away that they will be eaten by cows.  They are fired at 40mph in 2 millionths of a second pulling 20,000 Gs. 

But the main body of the fungus is its mycelium, a mass of threads that seek out and digest its food and is often underground.  Most of us now know that they are vital for trees, enabling them to absorb more water and minerals and to communicate underground through these threads. They also rot down organic waste enabling ecosytems to thrive. But they play a huge role in our lives beyond providing mushrooms to eat.  They enable us to have antibiotics, fizzy drinks, blue cheese, bread, detergents, quorn, and chocolate. Some are now known to clean up toxic waste and they are investigating using them to prevent the growth of cancer cells.

Embracing the autumn

Hello birdsong, hello dark blue of unlit morning, and cool air, and gently dripping leaves.  I have lights to shine my way through the garden, sitting under the bare hawthorn with my feet floored by its leaves mingled with oak.  It has been so wet but in between the sky opens and we can journey forth again with ease. 

Some gardens still have flowers but mine has embraced autumn fully and is a garden of leaves, green of laurel and ivy and fern, yellow of birch, and brown carpeting the green grass.  Yet brown doesn’t do them justice for they shine with orange and amber, darkening to mahogany when wet.  The oak doesn’t live in my garden, it is right against my fence but its branches and bearing fill a huge corner; it is undoubtedly lord of this domain.

And in amongst the leaves in the grass there are fungi, fruiting bodies proudly pushing into the waiting air from their hidden threads, unnoticed until now when they release their spores ready for a new generation.

Autumn and spring are moving seasons, changing from or to the fullness of winter or summer.  Autumn has as much growth and beauty as spring.  Colours change to lemon or amber or ruby, shapes are revealed and winds blow loose leaves into dances in the air, scurrying the leaves and clouds, hurrying change.  Autumn has its own flavour.