The new growth in the forest is spectacular. In places where I could see a quarter mile through the woods in winter, I can’t see 50 feet now. The foliage is dense. The leaves and blossoms, individually, are so delicate and lovely that I forget that collectively they weigh more than an aircraft carrier.
The leaf litter on the forest floor is deep, and I’ve been trying to learn something about basidiomycetes, a phylum of fungus. Many of species have the ability break down lignin and cellulose.
Fungi have elongated cells, called hyphae, that can get between the cells of downed limbs and fallen leaves. The fungi secrete enzymes to digest and recycle the litter on the forest floor.
Keith Seifert, whose wonderful book is my guide, says that nearly 2,000 miles of hyphae can be found in a teaspoon of soil. I can barely imagine that.
So many of the natural processes that I see are just mystifying. I see evidence of them — but I just barely see, just barely understand. We human beings tend to make confident statements about our place in the universe. I’m constantly reminded how little I know about the place, much less my role and standing in it.
• Source: Keith Seifert, The Hidden Kingdom of Fungi; Vancouver: Greystone Books, 2022, p. 26.
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