There's a fungus among us.
Yesterday, as we were entering the home stretch leading to the finish line of the Mansion, I spied a beautiful sight. It was nearing dusk as T-Hoe coasted down that last hill to the row-house that EmBee calls home. I pulled as far as I could to the right. People out here stop in the road to get their mail, you know. Now that our county road is no longer an autobahn-like detour due to bridge construction, we can do that again.
There it was, just behind the mailbox condominium. A warm orange glow, near the ground. Was it a spray of autumn leaves? We'd seen some striking ones in town. So orange. Like a block of cheddar cheese. Or, perhaps, an orange. I craned my neck, but couldn't quite see it. I jabbed my cell phone at The Pony. "Here. Take me a picture of that things. It's so pretty."
The Pony snapped me a thousand words. Though I rather like words, myself. And a thousand is really not all that many. Still. You might get more out of the photo than out of my many words.
This phone photo does not do that fungus justice. It looks more like a stack of flapjacks here. But I swear, that opportunistic decomposer was the color of a campfire when the embers are ready for marshmallow roasting. The color of a jack-o-lantern with a candle inside sitting on the dark porch at 10:00 p.m. The color of a yolk inside an egg just laid by a yard chicken.
The real name for this beauty is the Sulfur Shelf Fungus or Chicken Mushroom. Supposedly, it tastes like chicken! I would never attempt to capture and eat a wild mushroom. But some do. Here's a whole bunch of info about this fun guy.
It was real, and it was spectacular.