Stillness in Disturbance

August 2025

The chanterelles began emerging a little early this year. And with a few down days before hitting the road again, I decided to scout some new-to-me foraging locations near the house. And I hit the jackpot with one particular parcel of land. It was, however, by almost any metric, what much of the general populace might consider “spooky.”

In fact, I joked about the forest after my first two visits, writing - “Woods like these are phenomenal for mushroom foraging. But also, if I get myself Blair Witched or Sasquatched in there, I kind of have it coming.” Although it’s a stone’s throw from an old-growth forest I regularly spend quality time in, this is a traumatized landscape, exhibiting the telltale signs of harvesting by early settlers - massive stumps with springboard notches to assist in the administration of felling cuts.

Then, at some point later on, it endured an all-out clear-cut. And being the best we knew how to do at the time, it was all replaced by a homogeneous and densely planted forest. And with so many trees in close order formation being regularly blanketed by coast-clinging marine layers, only the most determined beams of sunlight ever breach all levels of arbor armor to reach the earth.

As such, these woods stay remarkably dark. Without doubt, the dimmest I’ve ever walked through during daylight hours. Which makes for a damp forest floor that’s duffy, rife with decay, and possessing almost no living flora to speak of, save for the erupting fungi of countless prized, non-prized, and poisonous embodiments. Mother Mycellium is constantly working overtime in environments like these.

It also explains the harsh, haphazard, and haunting presentation. But its massive cedar stumps and nurse logs cast a faint ghost canopy in my mind of the same ancient forest that flourishes less than half a mile away. Combined with what I had perceived to be succeeding episodes of unearned trauma to the landscape, I was immediately rendered empathetic as opposed to unnerved. Sure, it was dark, but it was also jarringly peaceful. So much so that it required some extended moments of recalibration, even for this regularly woods-wandering soul.

It’s a forest that appears unnatural and supernatural at the same time. Though numerous environmental elements are hard at work, for many reasons, they are also hard to see. But when I look and listen closely, the beauty of resilience is on full display, and the most perfect silence and stillness await the opportunity to unstir the soul. I feel enticed instead of cautious about such a setting. Oh, and also, the bags of Pacific Golden Chanterelles aren’t hurting anything.