Three Steps To Heaven

Field blewit: photo by Jo Sinclair

Tiers 1, 2 and 3. And 4, 5, 6... a bracket fungus by the cycle path invites me to climb step by step up the tree trunk, and Three Steps to Heaven by Eddie Cochran worms its way into my brain. Autumn fungi are a fun distraction from covid gloom and shortening days as second lockdowns loom and daylight peters out.

In the season of pumpkins, spooks and firework displays, the fruiting bodies of fungi put on a natural show of weird and wonderful. They are bright and beautiful and a little bit scary. The way to the woods is a yellow brick road of hope for a more colourful world where folklore and fairy tales linger in the subconscious. No need for a  microdose of psilocybin; just to look at them is enough to transport me to a more inspired mood.

I admit I've collected and dined on some of the edible species. I blame, or should I say thank, my mother. 'But I only taught you about field mushrooms', she points out. I can picture the two of us in a meadow, ecstatically sniffing the underside of baby-pink button mushrooms. We share the annual ritual of searching for 'mush'. Is that a white stone in the green grass? Feather? Used tissue? Or a perfect white cap erupting from peaty soil, just big enough to be winkled out? There were some years when we gleefully bagged kilos of hefty, dark-gilled horse mushrooms, alert to the warning signal of the yellow stainer, a poisonous lookalike.

Mushrooms can be devilishly difficult to identify. My old Collins Nature Guide, with notes on caps, flesh, stems, gills and bases has this advice: 'even when you have identified a given fungus beyond doubt you should use it for culinary purposes only when you know it in all its different stages in the wild'. I cross-reference several sources, and look for up to date research. There's always a surprise, such as the fact that some mushrooms become dangerously inedible if you drink alcohol 48 hours either side of dining on them. Common names give big hints - tippler's bane anyone? This is the common ink cap, a mushroom containing a compound that inhibits the body's ability to metabolise alcohol. And chicken of the woods is prized for being a magnificently meaty, firm and tasty choice. It can even be found at farmer's markets. But 10% of people who eat it have an adverse reaction; my Collins guide puts a skull and crossbones beside that one.

Spore prints can be a reliable help in identification, and make instant art. Today I'm trying to create a spore print from what I think is a field blewit. This mushroom has a subtle violet blush on the stem. Wild Food UK describes the spore print here: 'Off white to pale pink. Ellipsoid with small spines. You should scrape your spores into a small pile to get an accurate spore colour.'

This was my method:

1. Remove stem and place cap of a mature specimen gills-down on paper or card (ideally try dark and white pieces of paper as some spore prints are white).

2. Cover with a glass bell jar to help trap the spores inside (or pyrex bowl etc)

3. Leave overnight

4. Lift cap to reveal spore print

Top of my wishlist for new books: Merlin Sheldrake's Entangled Life. I've read excerpts and heard him talk. This is a book that blows your mind without any need for psychedelics.

Photo by Jo Sinclair