This winter I experienced a surprise that I did not expect. While I was walking along the forest path, when the ground is hard and the frost is hard underfoot, I saw a familiar form - the martin Infundibulicybe geotropa. The primrose (Infundibulicybe geotropa) sprouted even in the middle of winter, defying the cold and the season.I was used to seeing it in the fall, when the leaves rustled underfoot, but now the scene was different. Around me, the trees stood bare, without their crowns full of leaves, and the ground was covered with a thin layer of frost. Yet, from that cold earth, its bright caps peeked out, like little lefties turned to the sky.I moved closer and crouched down to get a better look. Her hat was wide and slightly concave in the middle, just as I remembered from previous seasons.And then I struggled a bit to take a close-up picture of it.
It is a tasty, edible mushroom that grows in autumn in circles or rows on lawns, meadows and forest edges. It is recognizable by its flesh-colored or yellowish cap, which over time becomes deeply funnel-shaped with a characteristic hump in the middle, and by its dense, white leaves that descend down the stem.I touched it carefully. It was firm and fresh, as if it had grown in the most favorable conditions, not in the heart of winter. The thought that a mushroom could grow despite the low temperatures awakened in me a respect for nature. It always surprises me how persistent and adaptable life is.I looked around and noticed that there were more. They grew in a semicircle, almost in a regular line, as if they were connected by an invisible thread under the ground. I knew it was the mycelium that stretched beneath the surface, a silent network waiting for the right moment to release its fruit. Apparently this winter was mild or the soil retained enough heat to encourage growth.
As I watched them, I felt the joy that only the forest can provide. Winter walks often seem quiet and sleepy, but this scene showed me that nature is never completely still. And when everything seems to have stopped, somewhere beneath the surface life is taking place.
I didn't pick them all. I took only a few specimens, carefully cut them off with a knife, leaving the rest to continue their cycle.That winter martini reminded me that nature has its own rhythm that doesn't always have to follow the calendar.
While I was picking mushrooms, my friend prepared a festive table for us in the forest. I would love to invite you to these specialties, but our table is a bit messy.
Thanks for reading my post
Dragan