Posted on 21 July 2025
With summer light spilling across the greens of the Royal Eastbourne Golf Course, I set out for another exploration of the South Downs. This time, my attention was drawn not just to berries, but to the intricate world of fungi — subtle forms clinging to stumps, sprouting from roots, and blending seamlessly into the undergrowth.
Paths were alive with the buzz of bees and the whisper of long grass. I followed the trail into shaded woodland pockets where bracket fungi clung in tiers, and black, coal-like spheres emerged from decomposing bark. These curious growths — some hard and domed, others crusted and pale — hinted at the hidden life pulsing beneath the forest floor.
Among the green and gold of summer vegetation, I gathered a second tub of ripe blackberries. A sprig of oregano made its way into my forager’s pouch, its blossoms fragrant and almost glowing in the evening light. This was no ordinary walk — it was a gentle immersion into the season’s sensory abundance, a pause to marvel at nature’s quiet, determined artistry.
I returned home with full pockets, stained fingers, and new questions about the fungal realm. Another step into the living landscape — one path of many.