Mushrooms

Overnight, very
Whitely, discreetly,
Very quietly

Our toes, our noses
Take hold on the loam,
Acquire the air.

Sylvia Plath

Very strange in Pimedden this afternoon. For the past few days there have been loads of butterflies and dragonflies, but today, none. Must have been some sort of insect cull overnight.
Instead I've had to resort to fungus and in particular these very tiny ones growing on a rotten tree stump. They put me in mind of Sylvia Plath's poem, which is one of my favourites, and also of one by hugh Sykes Davis, but i will save that for a future blip (it is much darker)