October’s Nature Walk:

This October, my dog walks have been less about “walkies” and more like “let’s wander off-trail and squint at fungi.” With my Google Pixel in hand I’ve been capturing everything that looks interesting, odd, or suspiciously edible. It turns out I remember much less about mushrooms than I thought I did as a kid—so some of these toadstools may or may not be edible, magical, or the gateway to a fairy tale. 

In recent weeks, I’ve noticed a definite uptick in the fungi scene. There are clusters of what I’m half-sure are wax caps, dotting the ground with their glossy colours, almost like autumn’s accessories. Then there’s the whole cast of characters on fallen logs and wood, definitely in the toadstool family—maybe inkcaps? I’d give them a little poke to find out, but that feels a bit intrusive, so I’ve just photographed them from a safe but curious distance (and occasionally had to shoo the dogs away). 

The leaves, as last month, are even further into their colourful journey, Sycamore leaves have hit their peak wardrobe change, with reds and golds competing for attention. And while my dogs prefer a good sniff to leaf admiration, I’ve been transfixed by the whole scene. There’s an oak leaf I saw, so deep into its autumn transformation that it’s already starting to skeletonise—is that even a word? I mean, it should be. The leaf was breaking down in real-time, revealing its delicate veins, like na

ture’s own version of lace. And here I am, hunched over, zooming in with my phone to catch every detail, because one person’s decaying leaf is another person’s seasonal art. 

Speaking of art, have you noticed how stone walls around this time of year are like little ecosystems in themselves? There’s the maidenhair spleenwort adding its fronds to the mix, and even some dalmatian bellflowers, giving the grey stones a bit of purple cheer. These bellflowers are like the locals of the park—they’re everywhere, friendly, and happy to be part of the scenery. 

So, there you have it: this October has been a month of accidental foraging (don’t worry, I’m not eating any of it) and rediscovering just how much nature can cram into a single autumn walk. And while my dogs think I’m mad, standing there photographing decaying leaves and dodgy toadstools, I think they secretly enjoys the extra sniffing time. After all, who knew so much colour, texture, and life could exist in one small slice of the world—and so close to home?