A week or so ago, as I was walking up the path to Hampstead Lane, I passed a woman on her knees apparently taking pictures of this log.
I didn’t want to seem intrusive so just walked on but the following day, on my way down, I stopped to see what she had been photographing – and soon realised.
A luxuriantly blooming forest of tiny mushrooms – tucked in under the now dead ropes of ivy that wrapped themselves around the tree in its heyday. In fact, not just one forest, but several. Some tanned little caps like miniature umbrellas at a race meeting….
It is well that I went back so quickly. Two days later they had all gone – just tiny white filaments where the caps had been.