These are called tree crisps and are a very rare find indeed. In fact, they’re so rare that I had to consult my Woodland Trust app to even know what they are. According to the app, tree crisps (or arbores calamistratus to use their proper name) generally taste of salt and vinegar. However, there are some varieties growing in the West Country which taste like prawn cocktail, and in extremely rare occasions in the Highlands and Islands of Scotland, you may find tomato ketchup flavoured ones. I don’t know about that though, it sounds a bit far fetched to me, but then again, so does deep frying a pizza. The reason tree crisps are so rare is because they only appear to hungry travellers who habitually kiss trees. I wasn’t actually hungry as it goes: the tree mistook my fannying about taking random photos of Serious Pig rosemary cheese balls as a
I went into my garden this morning to sow some wildflower seeds that I have gathered over the summer, and found this forest of mushrooms fruiting. There were loads all over the place, and it made me feel quite happy. It prompted me to post some pictures of the cool mushrooms I have seen these last few weeks on my hikes. I am still obsessed with hiking. I am doing around 20km every weekend and don’t know how I lived my life without this practice. I finally know what I want to be when I grow up: a woman who walks in the woods. I have been walking alone, in the main. I realised that group walks are not for me the day that I was in the New Forest and the people ahead of me had squashed a large amount of stag beetles as they walked and talked. No one
I have decided that god is definitely a microbe as things are really looking up for me since dedicating my life in service of the microbial world. Not only did I catch sight of the goldfinches one day this week for the first time since the bastard council cut down the rowan trees, but a handsome young man asked me if I wanted help carrying my shopping and plants home today. I said no, obviously, because HELLO I’M NOT A PENSIONER, but still, it was nice to see my future mapped out for me like that. In other news, my King Stropharia spawn arrived today, so I made a bed for it. This is it after fox-proofing (before fox-proofing, it looked a bit like I had buried someone). I thought I had more chicken wire than I did, so I had to improvise with whatever I could find in the shed.
I used to think that there was nothing that I wanted to be when I grow up, hence the lack of meaningful work. However, I have realised that is not quite accurate. It is not that I did not know what I wanted to be when I grow up, it is more that since what I wanted to be seemed unfeasible, I resigned myself to a life of meaningless work. That resignation was so long ago now, that I forgot there was any desire there before it. Well, no more! I have remembered. ? My beautiful, shoebox of light came with a fairly large garden (given the size of the flat). It was pretty much derelict when I moved in 1.5 years ago; one of the first things I did was put up a potting shed, because adults with gardens have sheds. Fact. I transplanted a few of the plants I had grown