Goodness, mushroom identification is difficult.
I think these are a species of Bonnet mushroom.
Maybe Angel's Bonnet
Maybe Ivory Bonnet.
I don't know. I just have to let go of the need to name, and let them live their brief little lives unlabelled.
Have you ever given a false name in Starbucks? It's one of the few sources of excitement I have these days. As I wait in the queue, eyeing the naughty pastries, my heart starts to beat faster. What shall I be called today? How exotic dare I go? I try to claim the names of assertive women, real or fictional. Dynamic, shiny bright women with zippy names they completely embody. Natasha Kaplinsky for example. What would your life look like if you were called Natasha Kaplinsky? Rather than Janet Walsh.
The tantalising fear is that the barista will stop scribbling on the side of the paper cup, look at me with a puzzled look on her face and say, "No you're not". But they never do, it's disappointing really. Even when I declare my new pretend name in a wobbly voice that ends in a squeak, they still don't question it. The final test is the owning of the cappuccino when it's finally made. "Yes, that's me."
For more seditious reasons I also give false names on online forms. Natasha Earnshaw is my current nom de plume. The returning 'Dear Natasha' emails make me giggle.
The delicate white mushrooms exist freely without a name. As do all the inhabitants of the natural world. With perhaps the exception of our micro-chipped pets. We humans, however, cannot.
