Le gamin au velo (The kid with a bike)

THE KID WITH A BIKE (Le gamin au vélo) movie... by MoviesCentralgr
I was leery of seeing another Dardennes brothers' movie since their  specialty is realistic portrayals of parents who don't know how to take care of children so they screw them up mercilessly.

The kid (Cyril played by Thomas Doret) with a bike is one of those.  But this time, the kid is eleven, and has a deep bond with his bike, which means that he can ride off his aggressive frustration at being abandoned. Cyril can make his bike heel like a dog, and rear like a horse.  The bike has a life of its own, and is his family, until he meets Samantha (played by Claire de France), a hair stylist who happens to be in a medical clinic at the moment Cyril is trying to escape from the authorities.  He hangs onto her and unlike all the other adults in his life, she does not shake him off.

This is the beginning of a complex relationship which has a clear eyed poignancy unusual in movies.  We cannot look away when Cyril falls under the spell of an older boy whose motives are unclear at first.  We only know that it will end badly.  But surprisingly, this movie does not end as badly as we suspect.  Every word of the screenplay is necessary, and every action of the boy digs into us with visceral urgency.  This is an unforgettable movie.

Windows

Windows Series

Paul Taylor

Paul Taylor's new dance, "The Uncommitted" has two distinct parts. First there is a series of solos where the single performer is led in by a group and then abandoned. These solo pieces seem to focus on submitting to pain and suffering, rising above it, facing it alone. Then come a series of couplings where no two people can stay together even when compelled to do so. There are ensemble pieces where dancers peel away one at a time, leaving a sense of loneliness.

But Taylor's dances are not in one tone. The first night I went to see his company at Lincoln Center, the program began with Cloven Kingdom, a comical piece with men performing many animal type movements in tuxedos that made my neighbor in the audience, a boy of five or so, giggle contagiously.

Following Cloven Kingdom was the Uncommitted, and then Beloved Renegade. This was like watching children in the playground, followed by young adults on social media, and then, a high mass in honor of Walt Whitman. In an interview, Taylor once explained that dance can illustrate the human condition which has both light and dark, and he puts together the ugly with the pretty.

What I love about Esplanade, one of his most ebullient pieces, is the exuberance, the spirit of play, and the sheer joy of it. There is a lot of running in it, not chasing, or racing, just running. There is not a single dance movement in it, just normal human movements that we all have done. Paul Taylor includes a child's athleticism in his dances, that sense of I can do this, and this, and then watch me do this. Even when the dances are dark and somber, a child of five can get it. As a writer, I love dance because there are no words, and it is visually wonderful to watch the human body express what it is to be human.

Salmon Fishing in the Yemen

I love Ewan McGregor, and Emily Blunt plays his leading lady with charm and grace. The whole movie is charming, but somehow too insistently a romance with swelling music telling us how to feel. Sometimes the director lets us figure out things for ourselves, but mostly he is forcing himself on us. He insists that the crowd be pleased. Of course we are pleased at the Scottish landscape and rivers, at the Yemeni desert coming to life with transplanted farmed fish, and the adults behaving graciously in the face of absurdity.

Thinking about my father, and how much he loved this song

Tree of Life

I don't need to know what is going on. I understand that this movie is a meditation on life, or even a form of prayer, with many probing questions. "If you aren't good, why should I be?" being the most touching and truthful.

The movie uses many images of boiling clouds, boiling lava, boiling seas, like a National Geographic special without the obvious statements of the voiceover narrator.

It is when the two paths are described-- grace vs nature-- that it seems debatable. Or did the word "nature" imply "human nature"? After watching so many scenes of trees, plants, mountains, skies, sun spots, eclipses, etc., you sort of assume the subject of the movie is more sweeping than just human nature.

Brad Pitt is superb.

He plays a frustrated musician whose engineering patents don't get approved. His bitterness is palpable, along with his confused and confusing way of demonstrating his love for his children by alternately baiting and berating them.

I love the way Malick can tell a story when he wants to with economy and grace, for instance with young Jack watching the argument of his neighbors through the window. The boy actor McCracken is also superb. You can tell he doesn't want to witness the meltdown of his friend's parents, but he must. It informs his understanding of his own parents. None of this is said. We watch him watch,and understand.

Malick also loves shooting at dusk just as the sunlight is leaking out of the sky, leaving a neutral shadowless luminosity. The effect is to add meaning to any action because this point we are racing the clock until darkness descends.

I wish I knew why the middle son was killed (during the war? suicide?) or what it meant when Sean Penn and his wife were dressing formally -- for his mother's funeral? We know we are not watching a linear narrative where a connects to b. We are invited to jump from J to P, back to C. and so on. All letters of the alphabet are not supplied.

Still, I could have done without the dinosaurs.

Habemus Papam

Nanni Moretti, the Italian film director, is often compared to Woody Allen because he writes, directs, and acts in his films, and his films sometimes feature psychiatrists who explore the characters' inner lives. There is also a fair amount of humor in both filmmakers' work.

However, the tone of Moretti's movies is more philosophical and his scripts tend to wander around. Woody Allen carefully constructs screenplays that tell stories. His dialogue  propels the action. Moretti explores what happens inside of us in slow, more patient ways.

In We Have a Pope, we get a chance to explore the inner life of the pope. What would it be like to be elected to a position so overwhelming that once you had accepted it you realized you couldn't possibly live up to it. What if as a result a whole religion was put on hold, not to mention the body of cardinals who were stuck in house prison, in their unending conclave, until the situation was cleared up.

Nanni Moretti plays the psychiatrist who is brought in to help with the situation. Lest the movie seem like a cross between Runaway Bride and Waiting for Godot, the psychiatrist decides to organize the cardinals into teams (one for each continent) and coach them to play a volleyball tournament. The casting is excellent. Michel Piccoli looks like a pope. His surrogate, a Swiss Guard, hired to move the curtains about in the illusion that the pope is near at hand, is great fun to watch as he eats the pope's food and enjoys other perks of the job.

The cardinals all look like cardinals. The costumes and sets are gorgeous, but the Catholic Church has excelled at those things for hundreds of years.

There are moments of sublime surprise, many having to do with Chekhov's The Seagull. This play within a play helps us understand the melancholy of Moretti's vision almost more than anything else.

Automaton

Thought this was very enlightening to those of us who read The Invention of Hugo Cabret by Brian Selznick, or saw Hugo, the movie.

Pina Bausch

 Words fail me.  Pina is electrifying with the boldness of its vision. I was ignorant of Bausch's importance and influence on modern dance.  Thanks to Wim Wenders, whose intimate knowledge of her oeuvre led him to film the key dances using her company indoors and out, now everyone can know about her.

The settings are crucial to the choreography.  They do not merely provide background or enhance a mood. They become as integral to the performances as the performers themselves.  In some cases, like when they are dancing in water, the water dances too.

PINA - Dance, dance, otherwise we are lost - International Trailer from neueroadmovies on Vimeo.

The Nervous Breakdown

The Nervous Breakdown, a literary magazine and much more, has published a poem of mine.
Thanks to Wendy Chin-Tanner for helping with the publication.

Here is the link:

My Old Calculator

Blue Nights

I read this in one day because I couldn't help myself. I have always been seduced by Didion's style. I wanted to be under the spell of her hypnotic use of repetitive phrases as she described the loss of her daughter at age 39.  I imagine I am not alone in this sad sorority of mothers who have experienced the death of a child in being eager to read the latest report from the front lines,especially coming from such a fine writer as Joan Didion. Her memoir about the death of her husband said so many things so well about the rather common event of widowhood that I was hoping for something extraordinary when it came time to describe that unnatural event of surviving your child. How much is left unsaid in this book!  We receive snippets of things Quintana Roo did and said when she was five, and fourteen, and how she prepared for her wedding when she was thirty seven.   I was hoping for more, a portrait of a beloved daughter, but it is all mixed up with the heartache of the bereaved. When it comes to those eerie feelings upon discovering all of the items saved for her child (now who will inherit this?!.) though she is quite splendid.

Five years had passed since she picked up her pen to write about it.  Is it that we have so much in common that I read her account?  My daughter also died five years ago.  No, her details are so different from my solidly middle class life. Didion exists in a class I never belonged to.  As a writer, she has lived with her husband as a significant player with all the accoutrements that go with that status. Her tone is not snobby, though.
Even though I read the book hungrily, in one or two big bites, the repetitions began to wear on me.  The mention of the exclusive make of China and linens, the names of the hotels in Paris and Honolulu-- these were not gratuitously given, but still, it is a bit much.  One can grow tired of a sad book in which all the places and people and things come with such an extremely high pedigree.

In the end, though what is saddest is the sound of Didion  losing her vitality, her willingness to go on, and who can blame her?  Her obituary will be full of accomplishments.  She doesn't need to do one more blessed thing to prove herself, and she has lost the two people most dear to her. />
Still, I wish she would return to her reporting of things other than herself.  She is capable of a great expose on medicine as it is practiced in hospitals, or the politics of the Republican Party. No matter how world weary Didion sounds, she is still very much among us.

In certain latitudes there comes a span of time approaching and following the summer solstice, some weeks in all, when the twilights turn long and blue.  This period of the blue nights does not occur in subtropical California, where I lived for much of the time I will be talking about here and where the end of the daylight is fast and lost in the blaze of the dropping sun, but it does occur in New York, where I now live.  You notice it first as April ends and May begins, a change in the season, not exactly a warming—in fact not at all a warming –yet suddenly summer seems near, a possibility, even a promise.  You pass a window, you walk to Central  Park, you find yourself swimming in the color blue: the actual light is blue, and over the course of an hour or so this blue deepens, becomes more intense even as it darkens and fades, approximates finally the blue of the glass on a clear day at Chartres, or that of Cerenkov radiation thrown off by the fuel rods in the pools of nuclear reactors.  The French call this time of the day, “l’heure bleue.”  To the English it was the “gloaming.”  The very word “gloaming” reverberates,  echoes—the gloaming, the glimmer, the glitter, the glisten, the glamour—carrying in its consonants the images of houses shuttering, gardens darkening, grass-lined rivers slipping through the shadows.  During the blue nights you think the end of the day will never come.  As the blue nights draw to a close (and they will, and they do) you experience an actual chill, an apprehension of illness, at the moment you first notice: the blue light is going, the days are already shortening, the summer is gone. 

--from the opening page of Blue Nights

 

Nick Alciati on December 2

In New Paltz last Friday my nephew, Nick Alciati, exhibited ten photographs for his senior thesis show at SUNY New Paltz. Nick has been studying photography and education, and his work was beautifully mounted and hung in the museum on campus.  The "light and shadow" images were perfectly lit, an homage to male flesh, partial nudes, no faces, only  bodies.  The portraits on his website capture delicate and heavy faces,  an exquisite jaw line, a fulsome head of hair. 

The  art show included work by 16 other seniors.  There were crystals grown on human hair and small stick figures made from sticks by Melodia Molina.  Mitchell Saler paints natural landscapes -- Lake Placid seen from the air, a barn in New Hope, NY, a rainstorm over the water, a sunset.  His triptych shows three spiraling bodies of air mass-- a hurricane's eye, a whirlpool, and galaxies, all taking the same  forms, linked together in a mystical way.  I was taken with these meditations on nature.

The jewelry and digital designs and sculptures all lived in the Samuel Dorsky Museum of Art side by side.  It was clear that a lot of discussion had to take place to fit so many works in such a finite space.  The more I looked at Nick's photographs, and the farther I got from them, the better I liked them, especially the nudes.  Congratulations to him for preparing such a thoughtful thesis statement, and for mastering the techniques of light and shadow, and portraits, with a narrative that was very personal.

It was poignant to see the photograph of Nick holding the small dinosaur from Lizzy's collection, which he had put on the table near the postcards and comments notebook.  The title was "Remembering Lizzy."  She loved photography and would have been proud of Nick's work.  The show took place on the fifth anniversary of her death at age eighteen.

The Artist

Like Hugo, another movie about movies, The Artist is also about the fading allure of has-beens in the moving picture business. Unlike Hugo, The Artist not only quotes from silent movies, it is a silent movie shot in black and white, with no dialogue until the very end of the movie.

The themes of silence, and powerlessness in the face of not being heard, make me want to go back and watch those old movies that depended on the power of the scenario, of the actors' ability to express the spirit of what the movie was about through movement, gesture, stillness, silence.

Hugo

Hugo Cabret's father found a discarded automaton in the museum where he was employed and was determined to repair it and make it work again. The automaton was the figure of a man holding a pen poised to write something. What could it be? Would it explain what kind of inventor made it?

When Hugo is orphaned, he continues to repair the automaton while working to maintain the clocks that his uncle abandoned when he disappeared. In a dream like train station in the middle of Paris, Hugo lives within a secret compartment where he can move furtively from one clock to another. The shots of the clocks and the gears, the repetition of the images of keys and locks, lead to a rapturous feeling toward simple mechanics. I will not say technology. That would be putting too extreme an edge on what we are looking at which is the works of things. The metaphor is work. How do things work. What work do we do to give our lives meaning. How do we fix what lies broken? Can a broken man be mended?

Scorsese's movie is a pleasure to watch, and at the end, there is an afterglow of images that stay in the mind's eye.

Margin Call

What a wonderful cast. Stanley Tucci, Kevin Spacey, Jeremy Irons. To see one at a time in a film is to know the pleasures of fine acting. To see all three working together in a fast paced smartly written film takes away the sour taste that the movie left in my mouth of the plot. I had already seen this plot in a documentary film, Inside Job, from a different point of view, from the point of view of the muckrakers who were pointing the finger at the villains of the economic crisis of 2008.

Margin Call takes us inside the board room where the decision was made to begin unloading the worthless stocks that set off the mortgage crisis. Watching the process of large scale chicanery from the point of view of the villains may humanize them but nobody comes off unscathed.

American Ballet Theater

Lobby of City Center

Company B, choreography by Paul Taylor

 Besides the visual pleasure of watching the dancers of ABT perform works by Merce Cunningham, Twyla Tharp, and Paul Taylor, going to the City Center today, I could actually see from my seat, which was not always the case in the past when the sight lines were flawed.  The seats themselves were comfortable, and the whole building has been restored to what I imagined the Shriners would see when they convened there, and were inspired by Hollywood and the Arabian Nights simultaneously. 

Drive

The thing about cars in Los Angeles is that they stand in for much more than transportation. As a New Yorker, I don't think I can understand the deep bond that forms between car and driver.  Drive strips down a character's identity to his action of operating the car. Even though the driver has scenes with human beings, and he looks genuinely fond of a boy and his mother, there is little real communication except for lots of meaningful smiles.

The driver likes LA basketball. He watches it, he listens to it, even when he is eavesdropping on the police radio so that he can tell how close he is to his final escape.The driver's identity in the opening scene when he drives a getaway car for a couple of robbers shifts quickly when the police home in on them and he coolly walks away in a basketball cap and jacket.

Next he wears a police uniform so we think oh a law enforcer escaping the law, but no, he is an actor in a film, no a body double for an actor in a film, no a stunt double for an actor in a film. So he is a character within a character within a character. It would take a lot of digging to find out who he really was.

After just watching Martha Marcy May Marlene, whose main character's identity is sketchy and finally unrevealed, watching this movie, with very slow takes on the actors, and lots of musical exposition, I wondered how much music videos have had an impact on filmmaking.  Screenplays for these two movies were were really stingy with talk for the main characters.

Do modern young directors think that we don't want meaningful dialogue any more? Do they think that music should stand in for words? Have we stopped speaking to each other in absorbing ways? Does language not count? Or is this just the feminist in me wondering what happened to the snappy actresses of old who had plenty of lines to say and said them with aplomb and were the reason to go to the movies.

As it is, we have Ryan Gosling, who is a pleasure to watch, and Carey Mulligan whose hair is always impeccably styled.  Albert Brooks as a singularly bad man has all the good lines.  

Poets Forum

Kay Ryan

Juan Felipe Herrera

Anne Waldman

Three chancellors of the Academy of American Poets had a conversation at the Poets Forum in late October.  The session was entitled  "Humans and Others."  Each poet gave an introductory statement, and then the conversation began.

Waldman has a titanic mind, making connections between protozoa, robotics, and animals of all stripes.  She made me want to read her book, Manatee Humanity.  Just listening to her say it over and over again, she drilled home the connection between the nonhuman and the human, the relationship between the large sea creatures, the sirens who drove men to crash into perilous rocks, and the puny humans who are a cancer on the planet.

Kay Ryan on the other hand is a woman of few words whose remark, "Well I looked at the title, "Humans and Others," and I said, yeah, I fit," made everyone laugh.  Ryan has the wit and charm of a woman comfortable in her own skin.    She seems to be a direct descendant of the sensibility of Emily Dickinson.  She quoted Emily Dickinson's poem number 724.

It's easy to invent a Life —
God does it — every Day —
Creation — but the Gambol
Of His Authority —

It's easy to efface it —
The thrifty Deity
Could scarce afford Eternity
To Spontaneity —

The Perished Patterns murmur —
But His Perturbless Plan
Proceed — inserting Here — a Sun —
There — leaving out a Man —

and number 1746

The most important population
Unnoticed dwell,
They have a heaven each instant
Not any hell.

Their names, unless you know them,
'Twere useless tell.
Of bumble-bees and other nations
The grass is full.

Juan Felipe Herrera patiently listened to Waldman as she drew connections at breakneck speed, then Kay Ryan's rendition of two of ED.  He was sketching a jeep the whole time, because he had been thinking of buying one.  When he did some research on the car, he learned that it had features like "lock and load," "camouflage" and other phrases that demonstrate the "weaponisation of the language."

Martha Marcy May Marlene

The main character is living in a cult with a satanic leader when she calls her sister to retrieve her. Little information is shared between any of the characters in this movie. It is as if they were all living underwater not just in the actual swimming scenes of which there are many, but in the murky exposition of the story.

It is frustrating to hear the older sister ask repeatedly "What the fuck is wrong with you?" and not really mean it. She does not wait for the answer. She does not get it, and neither do we. Poor Martha. She has no one to turn to. Her sister and her sister's husband seem like they want to take care of her, but there is something off in the tone of the direction that makes you doubt it. Poor audience who don't really know what the meaning of the movie is, except that at the heart of it is a sterling performance by the young actress, ...

Well photographed, with effective music, the movie's editing includes transitions that are out of a horror movie.

Who would you become if you had a sketchy childhood with no present parents and then joined a commune where you had to sublimate your better instincts to the abusive leader. What is most spooky perhaps is how Martha repeats the phrase, "I am a teacher and a leader" because it is what her guru told her she was. But we never learn who she really is, even with this string of names.

Occupy Wall Street

When I first visited the occupiers at Zuccotti Park, I was struck by the civilization that had been created, with tables for information, medicine, supplies, and clothes. Clusters of tourists made it hard to move as they snapped pictures of the occupiers. It felt like they were taking pictures of animals in a zoo. The police had erected a tall ominous tower and there were those stiff metal barricades that feel like an instant jail complete with bars to separate people from each other, and make it difficult to assemble. Overhead, a helicopter hovered.

Then the protesters came into my neighborhood. I heard them through my window. The sign says

The Solution:
Campaign Finance Reform
Public Option Health Care
Corporations are NOT People
End the Wars
Close Tax Loopholes
Tax the Rich
Regulate the banks
Pass the Jobs Bill
End corporate lobbying

These are all specific reforms that would reduce waste, garner income, and save lives.


They marched up West Broadway toward Washington Square and Times Square beyond. I walked with them a little, upset at the injustice of the economy.

There are so many police everywhere the marchers go it is as if they are fully expecting something to go wrong. I wonder what the ratio is of police to protesters. It seems greater than 1 to 1.

Good Hair

Chris Rock is a good interviewer. He chooses well who he wants to talk to and gets them to say what he needs to know, and he treats everyone with respect. Yet you know he wants to be funny and sometimes he is. Good Hair is about African American women's desire to have straight hair. He finds the mogul who controls the "relaxer" industry, he has one brief moment with the inventor of "Jeri curl", Al Sharpton chimes in on his experience with James Brown and how they got the look together. Other subjects he chose are Nia Long who is a pleasure to watch and listen to, and all of the competitors at the Bonner Hair Show in Detroit where there is a style contest whose rules.

MoneyBall

Moneyball appeals to me for many reasons. First there is the idea that baseball is rigged for the rich, and with a new formula the poorer teams stand a chance. Second there is the story of a nerd who is overweight attaching himself to an industry that thrives on the elite athlete and taking over the game. Third there is the dialogue which is delivered with real understatement. Of course there is the pleasure of watching Brad Pitt redeem himself in a movie of genuine quality. But especially I love the game of baseball, and this movie does not glorify it but demonstrates why we get so caught up in it, and how heartbreaking it can be.

Higher Ground

Higher Ground
dir. Vera Fermiga

It is hard enough to accept a faith based on suffering and redemption and events that you cannot see, feel or hear, but then once you have embraced this faith, to lose it, that is hard indeed. The world is so much starker. There is a feeling of betrayal, as if you had lived the life of a sucker and that potentially those who did not believe were laughing at you, knowing that the beliefs you had were preposterous in the face of real life.

You see life for the harsh reality it is, with unrelieved suffering, no afterlife, unjust tragedy, cruelty winning over goodness, etc. This is the subject of Vera Fermiga’s first film. I admire her ambition, and her clarity of vision in following a young woman through a life of belonging to a strict Christian faith complete with a community of caring souls, through her lapsing into a more intellectual state of mind that causes her to split from her husband, her faith, her community, and find a path that is her own. The movie keeps a tone of respect for those who are faithful and those who are not. The scenes with the more irreverent sister are especially good.

We care for the woman’s journey, and feel the pain of separation from a world that kept her close and safe. Still, I wish she hadn’t used so many people to play the main characters. It is a little distracting to be matching up characters with new faces.

Vera Fermiga

Back in NY with Hurricane Irene

It is enervating to watch the Weather Channel, yet we are addicted to its radar maps, and its experts in storm tracking.We have grown fond of Jim Cantore, the man in the LL Bean raincoat whose job it is to be blown about by wild and fast winds.  He was the man on the street first in Battery Park City when people were being asked to evacuate, and the sun was shining, and then this morning at Battery Park (which is further downtown, and an older location) where the waters could be seen on top of the walkway where you go to take the ferry to the Statue of Liberty.

We came back from Sullivan County on Friday hoping to avoid having to unpack the car in the rain.  We especially wanted to acclimate the young kittens to their new home before the storm really took hold.  Something told me to stock up on batteries and water before returning to New York.



All the news about Hurricane Irene was bad.  It was the widest storm ever.  Its path was straight up the east coast of the US.  The European model showed it to have more speed than rain, the US model showed it wrecking havoc everywhere it went.  First there was the wait for the landfall on North Carolina, and many nearly tearful press conferences with the governor whose people were the most at risk, especially in the beautiful barrier islands.

Then the question became how long before Irene hit New York.  Mayor Bloomberg weighed in and said that this was an unprecedented storm.  Governor Christie of New Jersey said the time for tanning was over.  Get off the beach.  Not to be outdone, Governor Cuomo suggested shutting down the MTA in advance of the storm.  Bloomberg countered that Con Ed might turn off power in lower Manhattan and low lying areas.  I yearned to know the definition of low lying area.

Then the people were forced to evacuate from public housing because if they didn't they were threatened with the turning off of power and elevators.  It looked like the mayor and his advisers were determined to avoid a New Orleans type situation where the poor nonwhites of the city looked stranded.  But in this case it looked like the poor nonwhites were being forced into shelters that may not have beds.

This morning I woke up as if hungover from the news and did not turn on the tv or go to the computer.  Out the window, it was very grey, misty.  The rain began to fall but not as hard as some storms where accumulation was an inch an hour.  The streets were empty.  Only police cars with their lights flashing rode ominously down the street.  After a few hours, after much rain, Irene was gone.

By midafternoon I took a walk to see what things looked like.  People were venturing out.

Beautiful Women

It is hard not to notice how shapely and trim and well styled the women of New York City are.  After being in a rural area where many people are overweight and wear clothes to disguise it, this is a big change.





















I love the geometry and shapes of the taped up windows in contrast with the architectural detail of the loft buildings.   Sadly, the subways are still not working.

Simple X

Grids with xes

Rectangles with triangles

Chevrons

Diamonds
 

Security grill

Mushrooms, Part 3

big bolete (bitter?/cepe?)

tawny grizette

worm inside hollow stem of tawny grizette

cross section of bolete, with worm in background inside amanita

Mushrooms, Part 2

Looking for mushrooms,  the more I look the more I see, and the number of mushrooms I find increases exponentially each minute I am walking.  For example, minutes one to fifteen, I find twenty mushrooms of six different genus.

The next ten minutes I then find forty mushrooms.  And so on.  It is hard to move after a while..   Everywhere I look there is something gorgeous, familiar, or exotic and worth studying. I see a red one or a yellow one with bright white scales.  

Then there are the thousands of pinwheels that blossomed over night as a result of the rain.  These dainty short lived creatures attach themselves to twigs with the thinnest of filaments.  I tried to photograph them today but couldn’t get an adequate image, so must rely on Wikipedia.  Unfortunately, their image makes them look enormous when they are the tiniest of featherweights, and disappear once the sun comes out.  The mushrooms in  picture below are ten times bigger than the real thing.  And they line up in a row on a twig, very orderly.

 
 

Just as I was about to turn and head home, I looked down, the leaf litter all brown, and saw first one, then several horn of plenty mushrooms, a kind of chanterelle.