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I was walking at lunch yesterday to meet up with a friend, meeting her at a café around the corner.  As I took a shortcut through a grove of golden autumn oak trees (honestly, this city has its pluses: there can’t be many cities that boast groves of golden autumn oak trees in the middle of the office district) and marvelled at the glorious yellowness of it all, and then I saw these:

These are, by a wide margin, the most enchanting and magical things I saw all day.  Just look at them!  So perky and brave, pushing their cheerful little caps through the discarded acorns and leaf litter!

Perhaps I’m getting this out of proportion.  Perhaps a knowledgable fungologist will drop by, nod wisely, take a sip of Milo from their Fungologist Of The Year mug and point out these are, in fact, as common as mud on pigs and I really shouldn’t be getting so excited about them.  To you, knowledgable fungologist, I say phooey.  Go and drink your Milo somewhere else, Chief Minister of Bubble-bursting.  These little chappies are delightful and made my day.  Not feeling their charm? Look closer:

These are wonderful, beautiful things.

(Amanita muscaria, by the way, and apparently loaded with the very magical psychoactive alkaline muscimol.)

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