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mushrooms

Are you tired of mushrooms yet?

You’re kidding, right?

We continue the amazing mushroom walk that happened after a Great Big Rain not so long ago …

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For a while, no new shrooms showed up. I looked in all the usual places, like this rich, red leaf litter beneath a north-facing wall. I wonder what cool critters live under there?

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No mushrooms here, but wow, what a cool composition of rock, moss, and organic debris!

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It was not until after I passed the school that the grove of trees in front of SRI became visible. On the left side of the street, an old, open forest of different kinds of trees, and under them, an unbroken stretch of mature, relatively undisturbed leaf litter.

Just barely visible in far left background of the photo above, a tiny row of white dots at the base of a tree. What do you suppose those are? Between here and there, there was much to see.

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Possibly my favorite fungus in this adventure. Dark, ear-like folds with prominent gills, and of course! The obligatory fungus fly, reddish brown, perched daintily on the edge of a cap.

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A pale yellow, wavy-edged wonder and gosh darn if there isn’t another fungus fly!

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A perfect dome, with a delicate translucent edge. No fly this time.

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Who could resist photographing these three little charmers?

Next: more forest floor charmers

We continue our mycological meanderings with the first Boletus encountered…

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It was in a moist, low place among live oak litter. Accompanying it, from the lower right: a seedling of petty spurge, a very tiny winter cress in the shadow of an excellent rotting branch, and an unknown plant at the top.

Boletes have pores underneath instead of gills. The spores float down vertical tubes and out into the air. The caps often have a felty, rough look and decay in wonderful, artistic ways. Many of them turn blue or green when they are bruised. That does not necessarily mean that they are (or aren’t) poisonous!

Something seemed to be glowing in the shadows…

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The photo above does not adequately convey the way the bright white rims of these three stood out. Naturally, there is the seemingly obligatory fungus fly.

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At the base of a tree with beautiful rain-enhanced bark, this neat row of big fleshy mushrooms with wavy caps.

Suddenly… mushroom pay dirt! In a front yard under a very sick, almost completely dead oak tree, an amazing outcrop of fungi.

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At first it seemed like there might be several different kinds, but then the forms merged together: this could all be Armillaria mellea, the honey mushroom, commonly seen emerging from dead or dying wood of many different kinds.

While this fungus might not have been the original reason why the old oak tree is dying, it is certainly making it happen a whole lot faster.

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This young clump emerged from the base of a multi-branched stump. Definitely lignicolous (taking its nutrients from wood). In the lower right of the photo, green leaves of delicate winter cress, closely related to Arabidopsis thaliana, the miniature rock-cress that is so popular among genetic researchers.

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Another sweet young clump, nestled among delightful micro-flora of the forest floor, also emerging from dead oak stems.

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An older clump, fully expanded and just beginning to decay, probably coming from an underground oak root. Note the tasteful white narcissus.

Next: Jackpot!

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After our recent rainy spell I had the opportunity to walk home from a client’s house through a wonderful section of Menlo Park with no sidewalks and lots of old-ish, interesting small ecosystems to explore.

Above is a great example, a front yard with various zones of shrubs and wild-looking areas. Beautiful, no? This comes very close to being a true deep nature garden.

There were many wonderful photos that offered themselves in that diffuse, after-the-storm lighting. They will fuel great future blog posts.

This particular sequence is about the amazing fungi (and two slime molds) that manifested along the way.

This will require several posts, or maybe a few more…

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Above: This was the first one that popped out at me. Mushrooms that get their nutrients from wood are called “lignicolous” and this one certainly is. It’s coming right out of the bark of an old oak tree.

Mushrooms are notoriously hard to identify, which is one reason why it’s such a bad idea to try to collect them yourself for food. There are a few obvious ones like the shaggy mane and the meadow mushroom, but people get in trouble all the time.

Some of these shrooms I can identify right away, some I can pinpoint with some research, and some will forever remain unnamed. Such is the lore of fungi.

What kind is this oak-eating mini-jewel? It’s what we call an “LBM” or “little brown mushroom.” Might be an Armillaria, but its surface looks too rough.

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Scouting eyes soon picked out the next catch, a waxy, wet looking yellow beauty in the deep shade under some old live oaks. See the acorns in the back?

Right there on top, another special find! A fungus fly, magically materialized out of nowhere just to sit serenely atop this amazing shroom.

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Deep in the dark recesses under a huge mass of mixed oak, laurel, and ailanthus: A noble temple of the fungi, fully expanded, shedding millions of spores into the moist air.

The upper right dark spot on the cap is — you guessed it, a fungus fly.

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Beneath a laurel tree was this trio of white parasols. One of them has tilted, probably from its own weight in the soft leaf litter.

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This beautiful domed shroom emerged under a live oak among struggling Vinca and wild strawberry. The striations around the rim reflect the gills underneath. The stem is surrounded by a veil of thin tissue.

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We end this segment with a distinctive purple jewel. If I am right, it’s a blewitt, which is frequently seen around here, especially in the coastal hills.

What a beautiful purple being!

Next: Boletus

Any garden is enhanced by a thicket. This one occupies the east corner of the deep nature garden.

Thickets are good for lots of reasons. A dense stand of foliage that is never disrupted (beyond some pruning and thinning around the outside edges) will inevitably accumulate a thick layer of soft, rich leafy compost in the dark recesses where no human foot or hand ever goes. In that special place, so rarely found in most traditional gardens, all sorts of amazing critters can live. Here in northern California, those critters can include crickets, newts, and tons of spiders of many different kinds including the dreaded (but actually fairly harmless) black widows.

Let’s have a closer look!

This particular thicket features a big rosemary plant, very lush in this comparatively moist place. Look how dark and deep it is behind those fragrant stems. Above the rosemary bush, there is a large, abundantly purple-blooming Salvia.

At the base of the rosemary, hiding among vines and low growth, an old stump guards the entrance to the thicket’s secret inner realms. The stump is the remains of a straggly, messy old Mexican marigold bush that was removed. Stumps and old rotting wood are very nice to have in a deep nature garden because of the variety of critters, mushrooms and other fungi, and even slime molds they can support.

Another view of the base of the thicket. An unknown plant’s green spiky leaves poke up through nasturtiums and Santa Barbara daisy. It might be an iris or some kind of lily. We’ll find out when it blooms, probably next spring.

Is there a thicket in your garden?

Summer is here and my small patch of managed wilderness is bursting with life. Nestled between two apartment buildings, this little chunk of land has evolved a lot in recent months.

The biggest recent changes were the removals of two large sources of shade, exposing the garden to full sun during most of the day.

First, an old magnolia tree came out because the property owner did not like how its roots were rucking up the driveway. He had a good point, actually. Even though the tree was a noble and beautiful being, its sudden removal has changed the garden for the better, allowing many new plants to thrive in the greater light.

Above: The second removal was the large old cape honeysuckle that used to fully own a large section of the space. In this view from the balcony above the garden you can see the empty space it left behind, covered with a mixture of old magnolia leaves and seeded eco-compost. It was cut down to a stump because it was having a lot of trouble adapting to the new, sunny conditions. By cutting it down I pressed reset, and now the new growth will be properly shaped and adapted for the current conditions.

Above: In the center of the empty space, the stump of the cape honeysuckle sends up a mound of new green shoots. I’ll let it grow into a decent size bush, but it will not be allowed to take over the space the way it did before I chopped it down. I want to keep it, even though it is considered an invasive alien, because of how much the local hummingbirds love its orange-red flowers. Once it gets bigger, it will bloom again.

Meanwhile, the layer of magnolia leaves and seeded compost has begun to evolve into a new ecosystem. The leaves were there because of the old magnolia tree that was removed. Rather than scrape down to bare dirt, I decided to keep the leaves, letting them decompose naturally, mixed with the compost. Some people have told me “Magnolia leaves never decompose!” Watch and see, it’s already happening.

Although the summer sun on the thin layer of compost has prevented many sprouts from coming up, beneath the leaves are countless sheltered nooks and crannies where critters like sowbugs, snails, crickets, centipedes, and earwigs have taken up residence.

As the leaves decay, this open space will gradually fill in. Below: at the edges, various plants encroach by sending up shoots from underground runners.

Above: The main feature of the larger east section of the garden is this dense thicket, dominated by a purple flowering Salvia. It also contains trailing Nasturtium, several other species of smaller Salvia plants, and a large patch of rosemary (visible peeking out at the right). In the foreground, an avocado seedling pokes up.

At the base of the avocado seedling, a critter shelter has just been added. It’s just a few bricks and a paving stone, but it’s a dry place where snails, spiders, and others can find protection.

Critter shelters can also be made of wood, especially if the wood is old and rotting. In fact, an old rotting log is such a great critter house that one should be a part of every ecogarden. If it gets interesting mushrooms after the rain, so much the better!

Another great critter house can be made from a simple pile of rough, natural rocks.

Let’s look inside. There are a few snails in there and a couple of sowbugs, but not much else today. I have seen earwigs, centipedes, millipedes, and crickets. Last week there were four big female wolf spiders carrying egg sacs, but they ran away before I could photograph them.

If an ecogarden is located in contact with a natural area, the critter shelters could contain much more interesting creatures like frogs, toads, or newts. I doubt there will be any frogs in this one, but a newt might happen by.

Critter shelters are also located in several other places in this garden, some in the sun and some in the shade. They are important! Try to leave them undisturbed as much as possible.

All through the garden are many delightful little scenes, like this wild strawberry, mint and a rock in front of the bearded irises. Those sweet little berries were consumed by me immediately after this picture was taken. Yum!

Above: At the north end of the garden is the vine wall (a fence, actually) where many kinds of climbers compete for space. Right now the morning glory vines are blooming in this section. Because of the lush, dense foliage this vine wall is also a fantastic critter shelter.

Maybe this space is small, and maybe it looks like just another suburban garden that has been allowed to grow a bit wild, but for me this humble mini-landscape is nothing less than a small treasure, attracting butterflies, birds, and countless other wonderful visitors and inhabitants.

Watch these pages as my little ecogarden continues to grow and evolve!

Did you see the previous state of the ecogarden report? It happened after the magnolia was taken out, but while the big honeysuckle bush was still in place.

The old, classic post “what is an ecogarden?“has pictures of the garden before the magnolia tree was removed. At that time, there were still some large bushes owning much of the north half of the garden.

There’s also an upstairs container garden, whose state will be reported in a future blog post.

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garden path It has been a very dry winter here in SF Bay Area, but thanks to the miracle of hoses and running water, the gardens are green. I’ve just done a late-winter thinning and pruning through the upstairs containers and the downstairs in-ground garden.

As spring approaches, stuff is starting to burst up everywhere. Here’s a container featuring purple potato shoots and fumitory, a pretty herb in the poppy family recently imported from a friend’s back yard. Also present are runner bean tubers, just starting to bud out. You can see last year’s dried bean vines, still climbing the deck support on the left.

Also upstairs, this self-contained rotting log (every garden should have one!) bursts with life. It’s just received a light sprinkling of seeded compost, adding nutrients and a bit of new soil. The tall sapling is a privet sprout, seedling of a long-removed giant privet tree that once shaded the upstairs deck. Also present on the rotting log: grasses, sedge, foxglove (the sprout at the bottom of the thin cleft, just to the right of the base of the privet sapling), fringed willow-herb, wild strawberry, two kinds of sorrel, lamb’s quarter, chickweed, a small unidentified Salvia, and much more.

This container has just been cleared of a huge mass of chickweed, which provided lots of delicately flavored salad greens while it was still young and tender. Now it’s been removed to give the strawberries room for the coming growing season, and more rich, seeded compost has been spread for nutrients and new sprouts. That’s an English holly sapling on the right; it will get its own container when it gets bigger.

Winter in Bay Area is a good time to grow peas, and here are some climbing up onto the deck support. I plant all kinds of seeds all year, but the peas seem to do best in cooler weather. The tender shoots are good in salads.

The big change downstairs was the removal of a dense magnolia tree that was shading most of the garden. For this picture, I stood right where the tree’s trunk was. Now that it’s gone, some plants are struggling to adapt. The tall bush with red flowers is a cape honeysuckle that is showing lots of new leaves. The new leaves are different, darker and denser in the suddenly bright sunlight. The section in front on the right, below the honeysuckle bush, is scheduled for major replanting with sun-lovers instead of the invasive, shade-loving, and unwanted periwinkle currently suffering there in the bright sun.

In a deeply shady part of the garden, Coprinus mushrooms poke up. Also seen this winter: shaggy mane mushrooms (another kind of Coprinus) and honey Armillaria (from the base of a dying, now removed hedge bush).

A stand of bearded iris mingles with little winter cress. The bearded iris hopefully will bloom this year, now that the magnolia tree is gone. The iris bloomed profusely when it was in a pot in the sun, but here in the ground it’s been bloom-free for three years.

( Update: Oh yes, it bloomed! )

Here’s evidence of spring: blueberry buds expanding. Last year this little blueberry bush offered nine berries on five stems. The year before, it bore four berries on two thin stems. This year we’re shooting for twenty berries, and it looks like there will be at least fifteen branches. Coffee grounds scattered under the blueberry bush give it the acid conditions it likes.

UPDATE: Blueberry buds bloomed out nicely, then became plump berries!

A red Swiss chard just getting started in the warm sun, sharing the soil and sunlight with some scarlet pimpernel and little winter cress.

The chard plants have to be started upstairs in the shelter of some bird netting, because there are tiny brown and black juncoes that come around and eat up the swiss chard seedlings, and also the pea seedlings. Once the seedlings get big enough, the birdies leave them alone.

The garden here at the apartment is just a couple of dozen containers and a tiny postage stamp of earth, but it is a wonderful slice of ecosystem. One does not need a lot of space to help preserve the planet’s species diversity.