Velvet on an Old Maple Stump

Not everything blooming in the yard is a flower.

The other day I noticed these soft, ruffled mushrooms growing along the side of an old maple tree stump here in Vermont. From a distance, they looked almost like little tan petals tucked into the weathered wood. Up close, they were even better — velvety, layered, and full of tiny details.

They appear to be a type of hairy oyster or hairy panus mushroom, though I am absolutely not claiming mushroom-expert status here. I just know they were beautiful enough to stop me in my tracks.

That’s one of my favorite things about living here. Nature does not wait for a perfect setting. It turns old stumps into little gardens, fence lines into wildflower patches, and quiet corners of the yard into something worth noticing.

The maple stump itself is worn, dark, and weathered, but these mushrooms softened the whole thing. They looked almost like nature had added trim — little woodland ruffles growing right out of the bark.

I’m always drawn to those contrasts: rough and soft, old and new, decay and growth. They show up everywhere once you start looking. In the woods, in the garden, at the edge of the driveway, and honestly, often at the jewelry bench too.

A texture, a shape, a curve, a shadow — these small things have a way of finding their way into my work eventually. Maybe not directly. Maybe not as a literal mushroom pendant or pair of earrings, though I’m not ruling anything out. But as a reminder to pay attention.

Because sometimes the prettiest things are not planted, planned, or arranged.

Sometimes they simply appear on the side of an old maple stump and ask you to notice.