There's a yeast-based beverage for anyone who can tell me what this fungus is called. Its proper mycological name, that is, though I could probably see my way to a beer for anyone who tells me it's Queen Ann's Bloomers and perfect in your risotto al funghi deluxe.
The Preston Heights ménage (two humans, two cats) visited Chateau de Mum (two humans, one dog, three chooks) last week, and rather than taking responsibility for the inter-species consequences (chooks-dog-cats, like rock-paper-scissors, except that cats seem to beat everyone else, especially if everyone else is the world's most chivalrous beagle and a trio of sensible bantams), I trotted off to take photos of fungi and other mycobiontical delights. Mum lives in front of a pine plantation, which means there are enough fly agarics to build an entire fairy Manhattan
Also this ramalina farinacea, the beardy lichen:
and this parmotrema something-or-other, which I wish I could grow across the walls of my living room. The trees look liver-spotted (who came up with that word, liver-spot? to say nothing of senile wart?). There's something about lichen that suggests the sturdy and eternal, even if itself it grows and spores and dies and grows. And p.s., for all you, who, like me, are enthralled by and grossly underinformed about matters micro/biological, lichens come about through symbiotic relations between fungi and algae or similar bacteria. How cool is that? THIS cool.