I stepped out of the front door of my house on a soggy cloudy morning. It appeared to have rained at some point during the night, but not heavily and probably not for long. The leaves in my driveway were wet and flexible under my feet and there was a satisfying wet crunch with each step as I started my walk up to the mailbox.
To my right was a manicured “hedge” of goldenrods with a few young sumac trees that still held onto a few of their gorgeous crimson leaves. To my right was a pile of firewood that had recently been delivered; the fuel that would warm my house for the coming winter. It was quite beautiful to see fallen leaves scattered atop the woodpile and the soft light of the morning made the colors a little brighter and more saturated than would have been the case in direct sunlight. These sights, combined with the faint wisps of wood smoke in the air, generated the feeling of a quintessential autumn morning.
The slight incline up the driveway was not difficult or strenuous in any way, but there was the ever-present feeling of mild distress as I made my way up to the road. Twenty years ago, the blacktop was new and smooth, but time has passed and the driveway has begun to break apart. By the time I reached the small stand of White Pine trees that forms a visual screen between my house and the road, I saw stones and sandy soil where pieces of blacktop had completely disintegrated. This situation will only get worse with every pass of the snow blower in the coming winter. I’m just going to pause here for a moment of gentle sobbing.
I finally reached the mailbox and collected several pieces of correspondence from friends and family. I shut the lid, took a quick look at each envelope (no bills!) and started to turn back toward the house when I happened to notice something quite unexpected in the grass near the pine trees. A long, linear collection of tan-colored mushrooms had suddenly appeared; probably encouraged by the recent rains and warm weather. I walked over to give them a closer look and discovered that there were seventeen of them altogether.
I decided that if they were interesting enough for me to take a look at, then they might be interesting to you as well. So, I went back to the house, grabbed my camera, and returned to the collection of mushrooms. The grass was soaked, so I wasn’t going to get into the prone position, but I eventually settled for the best photos that the conditions allowed. The important thing was that I captured at least one low-angle photo , which is always more interesting than a mushroom seen from above. I knew that I needed to check, but it wasn’t too difficult to identify them as the fairy ring mushroom (Marasmius oreades).
Sometimes known as the “Scotch bonnet,” this is one of many species of mushrooms that are called fairy ring mushrooms because of their habit of growing in circular rings on the ground. Once upon a time this was thought to be the result of fairies joining hands and dancing in a circle. People have an innate desire to understand the world and before science was able to offer legitimate explanations, they would invent stories that seemed to make sense. This particular story, flawed though it may be, is actually rather charming.
The actual explanation is interesting, but probably not as attractive to the imagination. First you have to understand that the mushrooms that you see above ground are the fruiting bodies of a much larger fungus living in the soil. The part of the fungus that lives in the ground resembles a giant cobweb of soft fibrils called a “mycelium” (pronounces my-see-lee-um). In fairy ring mushrooms, the mycelium grows outward in a circular shape and when it is time to reproduce, it sends the mushrooms up to the surface. There, the mushrooms open up like umbrellas and they expose their “gills” to the air. This allows them to release their spores, which are carried away by air currents on dry days. The official science term for these “gills” is “lamella,” which is the diminutive form of the Latin word “lamina,” meaning “thin plate.”
Today’s photo shows just a portion of the fairy ring that might have grown in my lawn. I suspect that the rest of the ring was destroyed (accidentally) when the lawn was mowed one last time before all of the machines were put away for the winter. The inset in the photo shows an older, flat-topped mushroom from a low angle so you can see the lamella. You will also notice some damage done to the tops of the mushroom caps (small circular pits) that I suspect may be the work of slugs.
Halloween is upon us and I imagine that we are all preparing to shift gears into winter mode. More and more of our time will be spent inside, but I hope that you can still find a way to incorporate nature into you day. It might be that walk to the mailbox, or it might be the chair in the sunny spot on your deck. However you manage to keep in touch with the wildness in the world, I hope it brings you the pleasure of peace, quiet and calm. Just close your eyes, imagine a merry band of little fairies dancing in circles under the moonlight, and you should begin to relax almost instantly.
Bill Danielson has been a professional writer and nature photographer for 28 years. He has worked for the National Park Service, the US Forest Service, the Nature Conservancy and the Massachusetts State Parks and he currently teaches high school biology and physics. For more information visit his website at www.speakingofnature.com, or go to Speaking of Nature on Facebook.