Writing (About) Life--The Writer's Mushroom-y Nutty Backyard

This is the result of a  stroll around the yard, camera in hand. The sun is actually shining. Haven't seen much of that lately.

So look what I found:

A chestnut, of Mel Torme's The Christmas Song fame. You don't want to step on one of these unless you have on really sturdy shoes. I have no idea how a roasted chestnut would taste. I've never eaten one. I know the actual chestnut is hard to get to because of the spines on the outer covering, and if you're going to roast any, you'd better pierce them with something sharp or you'll be sorry. I also know that Native Americans showed starving Early American settlers how to use them for food. (They've probably had second thoughts about that.) And that's about it--except the DH planted the tree over my objections. Chestnut trees smell terrible when they bloom.

A brown mushroom. Make that a very LARGE brown mushroom. This thing is nearly the size of a dinner plate. 

A double mushroom and a pecan. The squirrels have already started on the pecan tree, sampling to see if the pecans are ready and if they're not, throwing them down. This one is from the tree my late dad started from seed. It's always loaded, and the "load" disappears before we ever get any--mostly from all the "sampling."

A green mushroom and an acorn with its cap still on.

A red mushroom in a patch of sunlight.

You've heard of "bedroom eyes?" Well, these are "mushroom eyes." And on the high side of creepy. What are these things, anyway?

This concludes our tour of the Writer's Backyard."

'Til next time...