Lori Borgman: You can't fool Mother Nature but she can fool you

Lori Borgman, Tribune News Service on Nov 10, 2026

By clicking submit, I authorize Arcamax and its affiliates to: (1) use, sell, and share my information for marketing purposes, including cross-context behavioral advertising, as described in our Privacy Policy , (2) add to information that I provide with other information like interests inferred from web page views, or data lawfully obtained from data brokers, such as past purchase or location data, or publicly available data, (3) contact me or enable others to contact me by email or other means with offers for different types of goods and services, and (4) retain my information while I am engaging with marketing messages that I receive and for a reasonable amount of time thereafter. I understand I can opt out at any time through an email that I receive, or by clicking here

On a morning walk to catch the last colors of fall, we saw what appeared to be a large pile of vanilla wafers in the easement up ahead. Whoever trashed an entire box of vanilla wafers clearly has no appreciation for banana pudding.

A few steps closer, we saw that the mound was not vanilla wafers but an enormous puffball of small mushrooms. They blended seamlessly with the leaves nestled around them, each and every one a perfectly toasted golden brown.

The husband took pictures and I identified the UGO (unidentified grounded object) with an app on my phone as ringless honey mushrooms. Desarmillaria tabescens is their proper name, which is why we continue to call them vanilla wafers.

We crouched down on the sidewalk for a closer look and at the same time provided entertainment for middle school kids at the bus stop across the street. More old people doing weird things.

The mushrooms were a work of art and marvel of creation. As we continued on, leaving the puffball behind, it struck me how close I came to missing it. What with multitasking, speed-walking, always thinking three days ahead, I could have shot right past them.

I am my own worst distraction, often doing two things, thinking about a half dozen other things and then befuddled that I can’t remember where I parked my glasses.

All through the long, dry month of September, I pined for the beauty of fall with rustling leaves, changing colors, funky pumpkins with warts, open windows and an extra blanket at night.

Fall entered stage left. It was beautiful, but my mind was weeks ahead planning Thanksgiving. One 6-foot folding table, a card table in the dining room and a crockpot warming potatoes in the garage could alleviate overcrowding in the oven.

I am susceptible to every rushing wind that blows in the next event, the next season, the next celebration, and the next storm.

Christmas has been known to be so overwhelming that it often swallows New Year's whole. Winter’s bleak skies and bitter cold drag on, tulips and daffodils bloom and disappear in a flash and it is time to plant the vegetable garden. Picking peas in 98 degree heat, I wonder when fall will arrive.

How often I think ahead and miss the now. If only I could be in the present — which reminds me, Christmas is coming.

____