Halloween wants mushrooms.

I was hoping the recent bomb cyclone would sprout some down there below the porch, around the base of the plum, their usual spot. But, so far, nothing. Still, a couple days to go. So. Maybe.

Once it was Official Tradition hereabouts that when came Halloween you would wait impatiently for the day to be over, and the kiddies to go out in the evening for the treats, and then when all that was done, you would eat mushrooms, and go to the Road Raisin show, where Bob Burow would be dressed like a wizard, and play like one too. And a good time was had by all.

Mushrooms are their own Ruler, and so their potency, it is whatever they themselves decree. Thus, you never really know what you’ll get. Sometimes you can sufficiently maintain so you could, like, go in and apply for a bank loan. It’s just there’d be kind of a pinkish shimmer to things. Whereas, other times. You go to fucking outer space.