Woodland transitions bring bursts of energy, signs of decay, and glimpses of life preparing for winter.

CAISTOR ST EDMUND, NORFOLK – A small grass snake darts across the lane, its dark olive body adorned with a pale yellow collar. It glides like a living glitch in the matrix, disappearing quickly into a hole in the bank.

The warm sunshine carries a fleeting energy as autumn asserts itself. Overhead, five buzzards circle—a family soon to part as the juveniles prepare to leave their parental territory. Nearby, an ancient elm cloaked in ivy hums with life, hosting at least a hundred bees and a dozen red admiral butterflies. With other nectar sources dwindling, the ivy becomes a vital resource. Some of the butterflies have likely migrated south, while others are feasting in preparation for hibernation here in the UK.

In the woodland, the canopy is thinning as leaves drift to the ground, allowing light to penetrate previously shaded spaces. The effect is striking, akin to a cathedral with its roof removed, exposing its sacred interior to the open sky.

On the forest floor, mushrooms emerge from the dark, nutrient-rich soil. Among them stand ten or so shaggy inkcaps, also known as “lawyer’s wig” or “shaggy mane.” The younger fungi are bright white with scaly, cylindrical caps atop slender stems. Edible when young and fresh, they hold culinary potential that remains untapped for many, including myself.

The older mushrooms undergo a fascinating transformation, their tubular caps opening like umbrellas before beginning a process of self-digestion. This dissolution is known as “deliquescence,” a term as decadent as the phenomenon it describes.

The last warm day of the year offers a poignant reminder of the delicate balance in nature—a time of energy and preparation, decay and renewal, as life adapts to the changing season.