On the ridge, upstanding stony ribs encircle a heart of deeper soil – the iron age hill fort, the Dolebury. We had come to hunt waxcaps, glistening mushrooms in parrot shades of red, orange, yellow and green. And yet good waxcap grasslands can have indifferent plant communities: their exact relation to the plants among which they nestle remains mysterious. When we returned the weather was worse, a clinging drizzle that coated your eyelashes, but the mushrooms had worked their magic. Speckling the turf were swamp-green parrot waxcaps (Hygrocybe psittacina), yellow ones fading through dandelion to primrose, fruity red and orange ones and white ones the colour of an old wedding dress.

Source: The Guardian October 09, 2017 04:30 UTC