|"The Moon now rises..."|
True traditions take time to develop.
We cannot get them from someone else's book.
They are organic & take on a life of their own...
The Wheel still turns. How do we know? Traditions. Once again we found ourselves constructing a Mushroom Moon Shrine. How quickly the helix that is Time winds & unwinds.
We breathe life into them from our spirits, with our hearts.
All the signs were auspicious. All the signs were just right. We entered the dripping forest, rubber-clad to find one welcome after another. Old friends, new friends. Just right.
"Welcome to the forest," they whispered...
|Artillery, or Cannonball Fungi with Moose dung & the loyal dime.|
"...the rich, fertile, viscosity of fruit & decay awaits..."
|Fungi & slime. Auspicious indeed.|
Something new, long anticipated emerges from the duff. Auspicious.
|Hydnum umbilicatum, the Sweet Tooth or,|
perhaps Hydnum repandum, the Hedgehog Mushroom.
Hooray, either way.
Old friends arise...
|Amanita muscaria. One among thousands.|
...& rise to epic proportions. Playfully auspicious.
|A. muscaria tabletops. |
Befuddlingly large & abundant this year.
(The camera is a healthy SLR size.)
We arrive at our shrine site. As before, it is just right...
& still with remains of last year's shrine,
|Last year's Aritst's conk (Ganoderma applanatum).|
& again with the fruit of the Wolf's Milk. So auspicious.
|Wolf's Milk Slime.|
Keeping with Tradition.
We get to our work & this time, this time no mess, no fuss. Hubby is with us & the Changeling nods off & the result makes my heart sing & I gasp & squeal like a suckling pig. We are all smiles in the drip, drip, drip of the weeping treetops.
This is all for Her...
...& all of them
This is the bud of Tradition.
The Wheel has turned, Tradition tells us. "The Moon now rises to Her absolute rule..." (H. D. Thoreau)