Bright Mushrooms
It was a dull day. And quiet. At times, all I could hear was my breathing. There was no wind to rustle the trees or leaves. During the hours I was on the trail, I heard a red squirrel, a few crows in the distance, and a woodpecker working on a dead tree, nothing else.
The mushrooms I saw—and there were not many—stood out like beacons, especially an orange one that looked like it was being lit by fire.
An unnamed lake in the Ice Age National Scientific Preserve
More shots. The leaves have mostly fallen. The forest floor was littered with them. I looked for interesting colors and textures in the leaves.
“The best life is the one in which the creative impulses play the largest part and the possessive impulses the smallest.”
—Bertrand Russell