Yes, I seem to be having A Tree Grows in Brooklyn moment.
I saw mushrooms in my yard this morning (the byproducts of our healthy twice-a-day yard-watering regimen). They sprouted seemingly out of nowhere. Here today, likely gone tomorrow.
These suckers eat up damp, cool conditions, which Arkansas summers are decidedly not, though apparently my yard is for roughly 2 hours each morning.
Still, I find it fascinating to see how everything adapts to an environment, whether it be a tree or a cactus or a mushroom. And how certain conditions, adverse as they may initially seem, bring about something spontaneous and maybe even spectacular.
Yes, if you haven’t caught on to the (forced) analogy yet, I am the mighty mushroom. An eager pilobolus waiting to spring forth triumphant. A thriving toadstool, if you will.
I’m not that much like a mushroom at all. I seek sunshine and well-marked paths and established routines. I want good experiences and to be treated fairly.
Life isn’t always so simple.
There will be rain, rough terrain and days where everything falls apart at the seams. There will be bitter experiences and I won’t always be treated well.
But it’s up to me to take these less-than-optimal conditions and make them work.
The mushroom may be ephemeral, but it seizes its day and thrives in that moment.
I will, too.