Whispers Beneath the Leaves: Mushrooms of Two Worlds

Whispers Beneath the Leaves:

                        Mushrooms of Two Worlds

                by Abe Sanoja

 

(with a nod to the Camino de Compostela) In forests deep, where shadows sleep, The mushrooms rise, then secrets keep From Alpine trails to Redwood floors, They sprout like tales from ancient spores. Some wear caps of ruby red, Like fairy crowns on mossy bed. Others hide in earthy brown, Like monks in cloaks bent softly down. Some bring delight with scented grace, To sizzle slow in butter’s place On crusty bread or in a stew, They charm the tongue with woods and dew. But tread with care, oh hungry soul, For beauty may demand a toll. A bite too bold, a guess astray, The forest does not always play. Chanterelles, morels, the prized bolet Their flavors sing, their perfumes set. But Amanita, pale and proud, Can turn a meal into a shroud. On the Camino, I found them there By shaded paths, in pilgrim air. In Galicia’s woods, so calm and still, They watched us climb each ancient hill. Still, wonder waits where fungi bloom, In fog, in rain, in autumn’s gloom. From Pyrenees to Amazon, Their quiet lives go on and on. So here’s to caps both safe and sly, To gifts that grow when branches sigh. The mushrooms speak in silent hush A fleeting joy, a forager’s rush. By Abe Sanoja

(con un guiño al Camino de Compostela) En bosques hondos, donde duermen las sombras, los hongos se alzan, guardando memorias. De senderos alpinos a suelos de secuoyas, brotan como cuentos de esporas remotas. Algunos visten gorros de rojo rubí,como coronas de hadas sobre musgo sutil. Otros se ocultan en pardos terrenales, como monjes en túnicas, inclinados leales. Algunos regalan fragancias divinas, chisporroteando en mantequilla fina, sobre pan crujiente o en estofado, encantan la lengua con rocío encantado. Pero pisa con cuidado, oh alma hambrienta, pues la belleza cobra su cuenta. Un bocado atrevido, un error fatal, el bosque no siempre juega leal. Rebozuelos, colmenillas, el boletus preciado, sus sabores cantan, sus aromas al lado. Pero la Amanita, pálida y altiva, puede volver la comida cautiva. En el Camino los hallé presentes, junto a sendas sombreadas, aire de creyentes. En los bosques gallegos, calmos y fieles, nos vieron subir colinas antiguas y crueles. Aún espera el asombro donde brota el hongo, en niebla, en lluvia, en otoño prolongado. De los Pirineos al Amazonas, su vida callada nunca se abandona. Brindo por gorros seguros y astutos, por dones que nacen cuando suspiran arbustos. Los hongos hablan en silencio fugaz— alegría efímera, del recolector su paz.   Por Abe Sanoja

                            

 

 

 

 

 

 

                        

 

 

 

Copyright © 2026 Abe Sanoja
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The writings, photographs, and content shared on this blog are the work of the author and may not be reproduced or distributed without permission, except for brief quotations used in reviews or educational discussion.

Many of the ideas presented here are also part of The Kitties of the Camino Book Series – A Journey of Values, a collection of bilingual stories for children inspired by the spirit of the Camino.

To learn more about the books and follow the journey of the series, please visit the books section of the blog:
The Kitties of the Camino Book Series – A Journey of Values
https://tortuga-hiker-camino.blogspot.com

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caminante.abe@gmail.com

Thank you for visiting and for hiking and walking with me .