Fall Mushrooms- Seeing in Sixes

Looking at any of my mushroom field guides, I am intrigued by the variety of forms and colors I see.  The arrival of some nice September rains whispers to me "mushroom foray."  True, a foray is supposed to involve a group collecting fungi for food.  I collect only images, and there are few willing to tolerate my spending 30 minutes photographing just one subject.  So, it's a solo foray.

One rule for my Seeing in Sixes posts is that I can only include new images.  The fun is in the hunt for something new.  Let's begin with a decaying tree stump that resembled a mountain peak.

It reminds me of the rugged peaks in Patagonia that I saw in 2019.   The little orange mushrooms seem to be ascending the steep slopes.

Recalling how I am attracted to the colors seldom seen, the tender purple color of the next fungi was impossible to bypass.  The yellow and light orange leaves also attracted me as they are complementary.

Some would find it humorous to see how obsessed I was with finding the right background.  That clearly explains why I do this solo.

Next is a fungi that really excites me when I find one.  Coral Tooth-fungus presents itself in many forms as it erupts on the side of a tree.

This one had a nice green growth of what I believe is lichen.  It is difficult to capture slightly off-white textures, but luckily the sky was cloudy so there was no sun to blow out the whites. 

Next I found a two-for-one to share.  Fresh Chanterelles on the right are accompanied by the dried shell of a puffball.   (I really got my knees dirty getting down low for this shot.)

The best part here was that nothing had started eating the trumpet edges.  The next mushroom was not quite as fortunate.  Still, I liked the cap's rich color and the setting in the lee side of a decaying limb.

So, I am now at number six.  I wanted to end with this abundant cluster of individual mushrooms.  It is uncommon to see so many so closely packed.  There are at least twenty-six. 

Sometimes, I am asked if a particular fungi is edible. Not important to me.  My reply sometimes is on the line of "sure, but you may have a terrible experience a bit later." I am quite pleased with what I can buy in the grocery.

This is what I found in two outings this week.  I hope it is entertaining to you.  Perhaps it will inspire you to find similar beauty after an autumn rain.

Paul Schmitt

Taughannock Falls- Seeing It in Six Images

In the Algonquin language,  Taughannock  means in the trees. The gorge is still surrounded by huge trees.  It is the tallest free-falling waterfall east of the Mississippi River. Those 215 feet have been most impressive to me in deep winter when it is covered with heavy ice, and growling with a deep-throated voice. The walk up from the bottom of the falls is a popular winter outing for many.

I realized I had not explored Taughannock in summer for over ten years.  So, today I took the challenge to create a fresh view of the falls in six images.  I first stopped at the overlook perched high on the edge of the gorge's north wall.  The September morning was foggy with a few wisps still in the tree tops.

The majority of visitors travel the 3/4 mile trail with few pauses to even look at the minor waterfall near the parking lot.  I find it has a lot of attractive smaller drops across its width.  Looking at right of center, I find a section with five different steps from top to bottom. In winter, much of the flow is hidden under large ice formations.

Even farther to the right edge, there is a set of three steps created by the layers of sedimentary rock.

I spent over half an hour just finding interesting patterns of falling water. So, these are my first three images, and I am still nearly 3/4 mile from the big drop. Time to work up stream.

From the first falls, the gorge closes on the creek. The fog began to disperse, revealing blue sky and painting the north wall with warm light.  It's a pretty spot and easy to walk into the stream bed.

I like this view for what it tells you about the steep north wall of the gorge and the gentle steps where the stream drops a few feet to the next level. Somewhere on the vertical wall up there is a peregrine falcon nest. (I saw it this summer with great difficulty.  It's very distant and the falcon's coloration blends in with the gray rocks.)

On to the falls.  The first photo that I offered is all you need to understand Taughannock's height.  I chose to concentrate on it's power. After a free fall of 215 feet, the water is moving so fast that it is a blur even at 1/250 second shutter speed.   The spray coats the rock walls for many times the width of the cascade.

Now, I am down to image number six. Between this falls and the first one I presented, the stream works down over several layers of relatively flat stone.  The surface has gentle ripples and puddles that create hundreds of small reflective "ponds". On a still day, these produce a patch work of images from the canyon walls. Seen below are islands of blue sedimentary rock in a sea of golden tree leaves on the distant slopes.   I find them entertaining to explore.

These are my six from today.  Allow me one more image from December, 2013 that reveals why winter is still my favorite.

And, yes, it was really cold.  I am thinking maybe I can find another Seeing It in Six in October, if  there are come good autumn colors.

Hope you find this enjoyable.

Paul Schmitt