mushroom theory

I have a theory about mushrooms.  It's one of those theories about nature that you know can't really be true, but you still picture it happening.  Do you have those too? 

I can just never believe how quickly mushrooms both appear and disappear in the yard.  One day- just grass.  The next day- a 12" mushroom that looks like it could house half the Smurf population. 

So whenever I see them literally pop up over night, I picture this little colony of mushroom makers (who look suspiciously like Smurfs, now that I think about it) under the ground.  They work super hard and create these huge mushrooms and then, when they're all finished, they push it up through the earth all in one piece.  And always at night. 

Then after a day or two (it's never very long), they pull it back under ground again.  Again, under cloak of darkness. 

I do realize how outlandish this sounds, but I continue to picture it nonetheless. 

While I was in our neighbor's yard the other day taking pictures of his mushrooms, I also admired his crepe myrtles.  In the summer, I mark the passing of the months with the crepe myrtle's bloom- purple first, then white, then pink.  By the time the pink comes out, I know that summer is winding down, the days are getting shorter again and the next big holiday is Labor Day.  Pink = summer's last hurrah. 

And while the hydrangea bushes that are planted in our back yard finished blooming over a month ago, the cuttings on the front porch are having a "last hurrah" of their own.  They weren't established enough yet to bloom at the correct time this year, so they are bucking convention and blooming in July.  I love a determined plant. 

Today I am starting the process of painting our coffee table again.  I loved the red, but am excited about the deep brown that we picked out.  I'll share some pictures later in the week once I have it back in the house.  For now, the table and I are sweating it out in the garage with an oscillating fan, dreaming of cooler days.