One of my brothers used to go mushroom hunting every year at his local park.  He stopped when he found out it was a hang out for two vastly different types of undesirables … he didn’t want himself nor his children - um… - exposed we’ll say to these weirdos.

BUT sometimes you don’t have to leave home to find mushrooms, evidenced by The Germinatrix.

I was appalled. I’d just HAD a stinkhorn throwing its weight around, and now ANOTHER one? With an extremely offensive attachment? Surely the mycelium was having an enormous laugh at my expense … I can imagine the Mother Fungus oozing around under my garden, sending up her “blooms” and cackling with glee, knowing that they strain credulity and decorum. But do I keep them to myself, as a more demure garden blogger with good sense would? Of course not.

Ha… I don’t want Mother Fungus living in my yard.  It reminds me of the X-Files episode called Field Trip where hikers disappeared and skeletons were found.  The giant underground fungus had some sort of hallucinogen that caused people to dream they were safe all the while their bodies were being consumed by the giant life form.