Taking notice

I made a loose resolution to notice details of things this year. Reading Louise Erdrich’s book The Night Watchman yesterday as I sat in the sun reminded me of this. It’s a book I’m reading with my heart in my mouth, vicariously experiencing the vulnerability and danger in the lives of the Native American characters. Then there are descriptions of the landscape.

The road to her house ran alongside water, and the cool air smelled of rain drying off the yellow leaves. The cattails on the sloughs were soft brown clubs, the reeds still sharp and green. On the lake, wind was ruffling up blue-black waves so lacy that foam rimmed the beach. The sun beamed from between dark scudding clouds.

I looked up from the book and saw an interesting beetle on a leaf.

Then I remembered an interesting translucent stalactite-like formation I’d seen earlier on a pittosporum beside the garage. It is still there. It turns out to be a fungus, rather than sap as I had supposed.

Noticing these details gave me a sense of wonder and a curiosity to know more – even if the bug and the fungus indicate danger and decay, just as Erdrich’s landscape has hints of menace.

I put both photos on the iNaturalist app. The bug was identified as a Southern Green Stink Bug, the stages of which are described in a link on Kath Irvine’s Edible Backyard site. I think my bug is in the fourth or fifth stage of the life cycle.

Research tells me the fungus is probably Crystal Brain Fungus. The presence of fungus can indicate your tree’s health is compromised – which I guess also applies to a huge bracket fungus on my cherry tree. This means that while I’m taking notice of fungus, it is giving me notice. One site had the amusing heading: When a tree falls in the forest, fungi hear it.