More Fungi from Mount Macedon for Sunday Best

 

The weather has turned cold now. Joel and I have quietly traded our weekly excursions for dinners instead — less wandering, more warm plates and familiar conversations. Perhaps that is what growing older really is: not surrendering adventure, but shrinking it into smaller, gentler rituals that fit inside winter evenings.

What grates on me lately is the endless sight of mobile speed cameras hidden inside parked cars across country Victoria, while the roads themselves decay into patched scars and widening potholes. Entire stretches of country freeway feel abandoned to neglect, dangerous and crumbling year after year. There is something profoundly dispiriting about watching public money funnelled into surveillance while the very roads people depend upon are left to rot beneath their tyres. Each drive becomes a quiet reminder that priorities have drifted far from the lives they were meant to serve.

Sony A7RV

Sigma 105mm f2.8 macro 

Linking Sunday Best

Pixie Parasol in Mount Macedon for Treasure Tuesday

 

Our recent trip to Mount Macedon yielded not merely a pixie parasol, but its infant incarnation — a miniature apparition scarcely larger than a tiny bougie flame emerging from the damp decay of fallen wood. It had not yet grown into the delicate elegance the species is known for. Instead, it stood there in embryonic form, pale and impossibly small, as though the forest itself had only just whispered it into existence overnight.

Photographing it became an ordeal of patience and precision. The dead log lay low against the forest floor, forcing an awkward tripod setup among leaf litter, mud, and tangled roots. Every adjustment of focus demanded millimetres. At such magnification, even breathing felt intrusive. The pixie parasol was so minuscule that the slightest tremor turned it into a blur.

Meanwhile, a small flock of Instagram hunters had noticed our discovery and quietly trailed behind us through the woods. They hovered impatiently nearby, phones already in hand, eager for their turn before we had even finished composing the shot. One could sense their growing restlessness as they waited for us to move aside.

Yet the irony was unavoidable. What stood before us was not the sort of fungus an iPhone could casually capture. To the naked eye it was barely distinguishable from a pale fleck on rotting timber. Without macro glass, careful focus stacking, and the discipline to kneel in the mud for half an hour, the tiny parasol would simply dissolve into visual noise — another unnoticed speck in the cathedral floor of the forest.

And perhaps that was the quiet beauty of it. Some things in nature refuse immediacy. They reveal themselves only to those willing to slow down enough to truly see them.

Sony A7RV

Sigma 105mm f2.8 Macro

Linking Treasure Tuesday

Pixie Parasol in Mount Macedon for Sunday Best

 

Each year, the pilgrimage to Mount Macedon with Joel becomes less about the destination and more about the quiet ritual of wandering together beneath the dripping forest canopy. The mountain always seems to greet us differently — sometimes with silver fog rolling between the trunks, sometimes with cold shafts of winter light filtering through the gums — yet the decaying logs scattered across the forest floor remain faithful keepers of small miracles.

This time, hidden upon a crumbling piece of dead wood, we found the pixie parasol again in its earliest and most delicate form. It had barely emerged from the softened timber, no taller than a breath, its tiny cap still pressed close to the wood as though reluctant to enter the world. There was not even the slender stalk yet, only the faint suggestion of one beginning to gather itself beneath the miniature umbrella.

Pixie parasols favour the old bones of the forest — damp, rotting branches and fallen hardwood logs slowly surrendering back into soil. They thrive where rainwater lingers and fungi quietly dismantle the fibres of dead timber into dark sponge-like decay. In these forgotten pieces of wood, softened by moss and weather, entire hidden kingdoms awaken overnight.

To kneel beside something so impossibly small with Joel, both of us searching carefully among bark, leaves, and fungus, felt strangely timeless. The mountain teaches patience that way. Its grand forests are beautiful, but often it is these minute lives, budding silently from dead wood, that remain most unforgettable.

Sony A7RV

Sigma 105mm f2.8 Macro 

Linking Sunday Best

Lake Sanitarium Macedon for Water H2O Thursday

 

A week ago, during our visit to the old Lake Sanatorium in Mount Macedon, the mountain seemed swallowed whole by fog. The air was cold and wet against the skin, carrying that earthy scent of damp bark, fallen leaves, and hidden fungi that always follows the forest after rain. Joel and I wandered quietly through the grounds, foraging for mushrooms among the moss and decaying timber, our footsteps softened by the thick carpet of pine needles beneath us.

The lake itself emerged only in fragments through the mist, as though reluctant to reveal its full shape. Built originally as part of the old tuberculosis sanatorium grounds, the small artificial lake sits tucked within towering conifers and mountain ash, its stillness lending the entire place an unsettling beauty. In fog, it becomes something almost cinematic — a scene from an old horror film where silence feels too complete and every shadow appears to be watching. The outlines of the trees dissolved into pale grey vapour, their reflections stretching across the dark water like ink bleeding into glass.

I could not resist stopping for a photograph. Ironically, I had only the macro lens mounted at the time, hardly the ideal choice for landscapes, yet perhaps it suited the mood better than anything else could have. The narrow field of view compressed the scene into layers of ghostly trunks and mirrored reflections, drawing attention to the delicate textures of mist upon water rather than the lake itself. Through the lens, the reflections appeared almost painterly — skeletal trees suspended upside down in a silver void, broken only by the faintest ripple across the surface.

For a moment the entire mountain felt suspended outside time: no wind, no birdsong, only fog drifting slowly between the trees while the lake held their reflections in perfect silence.

Sony A7RV

Sigma 105mm f2.8 Macro

Linking Water H2O Thursday

Fungus in Mount Macedon for Sunday Best

 

Another weekend has been marred by inclement weather. Joel and I sought our customary refuge at the Japanese bar, where the comfort of warm sake provided some consolation. Indeed, I intend to replenish my supply of sake regardless.

What follows is one from my collection of macro studies of fungi, taken upon the slopes of Mount Macedon. The mountain, with its cool and shaded gullies, provides an ideal environment for such delicate growths, whose minute forms reveal unexpected intricacies when examined closely.

For those who journey from the eastern fringes of Melbourne, the approach to Mount Macedon is a gentle transition from suburban streets into pastoral scenery. One may take the Eastern Freeway, continuing westward until it joins the CityLink or Tullamarine Freeway. From there, the Calder Freeway leads north-west through undulating countryside, with fields and woodlands unfolding in succession. After approximately an hour’s drive, the great massif of Mount Macedon rises ahead, its slopes cloaked in towering eucalypts and, in the cooler months, veiled in mist. The road winds upwards from Macedon township, affording ever-widening views of the surrounding plains until one arrives at the forested heights where nature’s more secret marvels—such as the fungi I photographed—lie hidden beneath the canopy.

Sony A7RV

Sigma 105mm f2.8 Macro

Linking Sunday Best

Fungus wonder in Lake Sanitarium for Sunday Best

 

After a fortnight of steady work free from on-call duties, I find that my sleep pattern is at last restored. I have also resumed the habit of reading the news and attending to various hobbies. Advancing age has made me realise that I can no longer endure the unrelenting burden of round-the-clock shifts.

This particular mushroom is frequently found at Lake Sanitarium, Mount Macedon. The gentle rear green bokeh it affords is a quality I hold in highest esteem—though, amusingly, it is the very aspect that Joel most dislikes.

Sony A7RV

Sigma 105mm f2.8 Macro

Linking Sunday Best

Mycena species found in Lake Sanitarium for Treasure Tuesday

 

A dense cluster of small, conical mushrooms was observed growing from moss-covered, decaying wood at Lake Sanitarium, Mount Macedon, Victoria, in a shaded, damp montane forest. The caps measured approximately 5–20 mm across, deep wine-brown in colour, finely striate, and hygrophanous. Stipes were slender, fibrous, and darker toward the base. The species is likely a wood-inhabiting Mycena, though precise identification would require spore print analysis and microscopic examination. It is saprotrophic and plays a role in wood decomposition. Consumption is not recommended.

Sony A7RV

Sigma 105mm f2.8 macro

Linking Treasure Tuesday

Ink Caps at Mount Macedon for Sunday Best

 

This photograph was taken during one of my regular excursions to Mount Macedon, a place I frequent for contemplative walks through its verdant woodlands. These foraging wanderings are a source of quiet delight, offering both the invigorating freshness of the forest air and the opportunity to encounter nature’s hidden curiosities—among them, the delicate and often overlooked ink cap mushrooms.

The specimens depicted appear to belong to the Coprinopsis or Coprinellus genus, commonly known as ink caps. These fungi are distinguished by their slender stems and conical to bell-shaped caps, often bearing a dusky sheen when moist. They thrive on decaying wood and forest detritus, emerging in clusters after rain or during periods of high humidity. One of their most striking characteristics is their tendency to deliquesce: as the mushroom matures, the cap begins to liquefy, transforming into a dark, inky fluid—hence their common name.

Among the various species, Coprinopsis atramentaria, also known as the Common Ink Cap or Tippler’s Bane, is notable for its chemical interaction with alcohol; when consumed in conjunction with alcohol, it can cause adverse reactions due to the presence of coprine. Others, such as Coprinellus disseminatus, form large, fairy-tale-like colonies across mossy logs and stumps, yet do not deliquesce.

Though some ink caps are considered edible when young and properly identified, their ephemeral nature and potential for toxicity demand caution. For the mindful forager, however, they remain a fascinating subject of study—ephemeral, mysterious, and exquisitely transient.

Sony A7RV

Sigma 105mm f2.8 Macro

Linking Sunday Best

Mushroom at Lake Sanitarium in Mount Macedon for Sunday Best

 

Returning to the same spot each year yields the familiar sight of mushrooms—unchanged in form, yet ever transformed by the shifting light and atmosphere. It is a quiet pleasure to observe and capture their delicate textures through the lens of a macro camera, where each detail is magnified and newly appreciated. At Mount Macedon, where the air is almost perpetually damp and the mists linger among the trees, the forest floor remains a fertile haven for fungi. The endemic weather—cool, wet, and cloaked in a veil of fog—imbues the landscape with a subdued beauty, making each photographic outing a contemplative and rewarding pursuit.

Sony A7RV

Sigma 105mm f2.8 Macro

Linking Sunday Best

Of late, I have been viewing the series Naked and Afraid: Last One Standing, which piqued my curiosity regarding the distinction between the nyala and the impala, both of which are frequently mentioned or encountered in such wilderness settings. Compelled by this interest, I sought further understanding through study and inquiry.

The impala is a slender, graceful antelope renowned for its agility and speed, commonly found across the savannas and light woodlands of eastern and southern Africa. It bears a reddish-brown coat, with males distinguished by their lyre-shaped, ridged horns. Social in nature, impalas are often seen in large herds and rely on their swiftness to evade predators.

In contrast, the nyala is a more reclusive and strikingly patterned antelope, typically inhabiting dense bushlands and thickets, particularly in southern Africa. Males are darker in colour—deep brown to slate grey—with prominent vertical white stripes, spiral horns, and a shaggy appearance marked by a mane and white facial markings. Females and juveniles, by contrast, are lighter in hue and more modestly adorned.

Thus, while both species are antelopes of the African wild, they differ notably in habitat, temperament, and physical characteristics—the impala embodying fleet elegance in open terrain, and the nyala exuding quiet dignity in the shelter of the bush.

Mushroom in Lake Sanitarium Lake Mount Macedon for Sunday Best

 

A rather common species of woodland mushroom thrives amidst the shaded undergrowth of Lake Sanitarium, a locale long favoured by naturalists and artists alike. This secluded lake, steeped in quiet history, once served as a convalescent retreat in the early 20th century, earning its evocative name from the health-seekers who once found solace in its restorative air and waters. Today, it plays host to an altogether different form of contemplation: an annual photographic expedition undertaken by Joel and myself, dedicated to the fine art of macro imagery.

Armed with the Sony A7R V and the Sigma 105mm f/2.8 macro lens, we seek out the minute marvels of the forest floor—fungi, insects, textures—all rendered with a distinct tonal quality that has long distinguished the Sigma from its rivals. Although Sony is poised to release a new G Master macro lens, whose technical excellence is already anticipated by the photographic community, we are inclined to retain the Sigma. Its singular character in colour rendition—so vivid, yet subtle—offers a palette that cannot be so easily replicated, a lens not merely of function but of personality.

Linking Sunday Best

Crepidotus, Panellus and Mycena epipterygia for Sunday Best

 

During a recent exploration, Joel and I encountered several intriguing fungi, which we subsequently identified with the aid of an AI tool. Among them were species from the genera Crepidotus, Panellus, and Mycena, specifically the elegant Mycena epipterygia. We were both deeply captivated by their delicate forms and the quiet grace with which they adorned their natural woodland habitat.

The genus Crepidotus is known for its fan-shaped fruiting bodies that typically grow on decaying wood. These saprophytic fungi contribute to the vital process of decomposition in forest ecosystems, breaking down organic matter and returning nutrients to the soil. Their name, derived from the Greek krepis (sandal), refers to their characteristic shape.

Panellus, another genus observed, shares similar ecological roles. Often growing in overlapping clusters on wood, some species of Panellus display bioluminescence, a phenomenon that has long fascinated naturalists. These fungi, too, are saprotrophs, and their presence signals a healthy, functioning forest floor.

Finally, Mycena epipterygia, commonly known as the yellowleg bonnet, is a small but exquisite mushroom, notable for its translucent cap and slender, often yellowish stem. Belonging to a large genus renowned for its fragile beauty, Mycena species frequently inhabit mossy logs and damp leaf litter. Some possess faint luminescence, and many have played roles in studies of fungal chemistry and symbiosis.

Each of these fungi, though modest in size, stands as a testament to nature’s quiet complexity. Their ephemeral presence in the forest reminds us of the intricate interdependence that sustains woodland life and the elegance that resides in even the humblest forms.

Sony A7RV

Sigma 105mm f2.8

Linking Sunday Best

I had been away for but a week, visiting Sydney. Upon my return, Joel insisted we stop for a drink at a Japanese bar in Richmond. He met me at the airport, evidently eager to unburden himself of the unpleasant affairs at his workplace. Though I scarcely caught the full tenor of his complaints, I found contentment in a bowl of piquant tofu soup and a glass of chilled namasake

Pixie Parasol in Lake Sanitarium Mount Macedon for Treasure Tuesday

 

Around this season each year, we venture into the woodlands of Mount Macedon, near Lake Sanitarium, in pursuit of the delicate and elusive wild mushrooms that flourish briefly in the damp and shaded understory. This annual tradition of mushroom hunting is both a ritual and a delight, a quiet communion with the rhythms of the forest. Yet, this year, our efforts have thus far borne no fruit. Twice we have searched the familiar grounds, only to find the earth ungenerous. The unseasonably warm weather has likely discouraged the fungi from their usual emergence, for they thrive best in cooler, moisture-laden air.

Nevertheless, in the spirit of perseverance and appreciation for nature’s finer details, Joel and I turned our attention to the craft of focus stacking—an intricate photographic technique suited for capturing these minute woodland organisms in their full dimensional glory. Each specimen demands patience and precision: we take between twenty and fifty images of a single frame, adjusting focus ever so slightly with each exposure. These are captured wide open, at the lens’s brightest aperture, allowing for maximum light and subtle depth. The process, though meticulous, borders on artistry. Thankfully, modern tools like Adobe Photoshop now make the post-processing more accessible, layering these images into a singular, sharply focused result.

I am truly enamored with the outcome. The images reveal the mushrooms as they are—young, tender sprouts, barely rising from the mossy floor. Their forms are delicate, almost otherworldly in their fragility.

Joel, ever the skilled forager, has an uncanny ability to find the pixie parasol—Mycena interrupta—a rare and enchanting species distinguished by its luminous blue hue and ephemeral presence. His knowledge borders on the encyclopedic, and he often jests, with an arched brow and a knowing smile, “What would you do without me?” Indeed, his companionship and expertise are as indispensable as the forest itself in our shared pursuit of these botanical treasures.

In these quiet moments beneath the towering eucalyptus and mountain ash, surrounded by the ancient breath of the earth, one is reminded that even in scarcity, the forest offers gifts to those who look closely.

Sony A7RV

Sigma 105mm f2.8 Macro

Linking Treasure Tuesday

Fitzroy St Murals for Mural Monday

 

These photographs, taken during my former wanderings through the storied precincts of Fitzroy in Melbourne, form a modest yet treasured archive of days past. Though some images have weathered time gracefully and others appear worn or unrefined, each holds a certain charm for me—vestiges of solitary afternoons spent observing the character of the city through the lens of my camera.

Fitzroy, long regarded as Melbourne’s cradle of bohemian culture, has earned renown for its vibrant and often provocative street art. From the 1970s onwards, its laneways and brick facades became the canvas for an evolving urban dialogue—first through political slogans and stencil art, and later through intricate murals and large-scale commissions that drew artists from across the globe. The suburb’s walls speak in colour and form, telling stories of rebellion, community, and cultural transformation.

In such an environment, every corner bore the potential for artistic revelation. My photowalks, humble though they were, sought to capture fleeting intersections between light, decay, and expression. Some of the images reflect this energy vividly; others merely hint at it. Regardless of composition or clarity, these photographs are to me what relics are to a historian: fragments that, when assembled, speak not only of place, but of time and of one’s quiet presence within it.

They may not all gleam with technical finesse, but they are, in their own right, memory’s keepsakes—witness to an era in which Fitzroy’s streets breathed with defiant creativity and untamed spirit.

Sony A7RV

Sigma 17mm f4 

Linking Mural Monday

Kilcunda Trestle Bridge Gippsland for Skywatch Friday

 

This weekend, Joel has expressed a desire to return to the Kilcunda coastline, a place rich in both natural beauty and historical significance. I believe we may seize the opportunity to venture further into the deeper reaches of the sea during low tide, perhaps uncovering aspects of the shoreline previously unexplored.

It is worth noting that Kilcunda is home to the iconic Trestle Bridge, a striking relic of Australia’s early railway era. Constructed in the early 20th century as part of the Wonthaggi railway line, the bridge once served as a vital artery for coal transport, linking the thriving mining town of Wonthaggi to Melbourne. Though no longer in service, the structure remains a testament to the region's industrious past, standing proudly above the Bass Coast as a reminder of Gippsland’s role in shaping Victoria’s economic history.

In returning, we not only revisit a beloved coastal spot but also walk in the shadow of history itself.

Sony A7RV

Sigma 14-24mm f2.8

Linking Skywatch Friday

Fitzroy Murals for Mural Monday

 

These portrait murals have stood there in Fitzroy for many years. 

Fitzroy, Melbourne, is renowned for its vibrant street art and murals, reflecting the suburb’s rich cultural and political history. Murals began appearing in the 1970s, influenced by global political movements and local activism. One of the earliest and most famous is the Charcoal Lane mural (1985) by Megan Evans and Les Griggs, which celebrates Fitzroy’s Indigenous heritage and the community’s struggles.

During the 1990s and early 2000s, Fitzroy’s walls became canvases for graffiti artists and muralists alike, with iconic works appearing in laneways like Johnston Street and Rose Street. The area’s murals often feature themes of social justice, environmentalism, and Aboriginal rights, blending traditional and contemporary styles.

Sony A7RV

Sigma 17mm f4 

Linking Mural Monday and FACE OFF

Springvale Lunar New Year Parade (small one) for Treasure Tuesday

 

Early one morning, I accompanied my mother to shop in Springvale. Although I did not intend to participate in any Lunar New Year celebrations, the convenience of the visit made it inevitable. Interestingly, it seems that most of the parades are now organised by Australians. It appears that many Chinese individuals have integrated so thoroughly into Australian society that they have abandoned the cultural heritage they once cherished in which it includes me lol. 

In my youth, I participated in traditional dragon dances, visiting various shops to collect red packets. If a shop owner was hesitant to offer one, I, along with the band, would persist, briefly disrupting their business until they obliged.

Too much energy in the morning. A long day to go!

I enjoyed Vietnamese Pho weekly. 

Sony A7RV

Sigma 17mm f4 

Linking Treasure Tuesday

Rapid Bay (other) Caves in Fleurieu Peninsula SA for Treasure Tuesday

 

Rapid Bay, South Australia, is home to several other caves. Joel had been feeling unwell due to the earlier inclement weather. He was eagerly anticipating a great opportunity to photograph Granite Island before visiting Rapid Bay. Fortunately, his spirits lifted when the clouds began to part at Rapid Bay. I, too, was pleased, as there were new subjects to photograph in this area. I would not have visited had Joel not needed to attend a wedding there. These caves are remarkably large. Unfortunately, the rocky walls exude an odor of urine, a consequence of the actions of some of the local youths.

Sony A7RV

Sigma 14-24mm f2.8 

Linking Treasure Tuesday

Rapid Bay Cave for Water H2O Thursday

 

Rapid Bay Cave is likely the largest cavern in the Fleurieu Peninsula of South Australia. It is not well indicated on maps, nor are there any signposts in the vicinity. A group of young people lingered in the cave for an extended period, causing Joel and me to wait for them to depart. Some photographs were taken in an Instagram style, including silhouettes to provide a sense of scale.

Joel has shed a considerable amount of weight; intermittent fasting has proven effective for him. I am currently attempting to replicate his exercise regimen. He kindly procured for me a complimentary subscription to Free Press, which features writings by several former New York Times reporters. I am thoroughly enjoying the subscription.

I acquired a Sigma 14-24mm f/2.8 lens over a year ago but had not used it extensively. During our journey to South Australia, we made ample use of this lens.

Sony A7RV

Sigma 14-24mm f2.8 

Linking Water H2O Thursday

Kilcunda Sunset with a pink glow for Water H2O Thursday

 

The colour I prefer

Sony A7RV

Sigma 14-24mm f2.8

Linking Water H2O Thursday

Kilcunda Sunset for Water H2O Thursday

 

I think I will revisit this place on the weekend.

Sony A7RV

Sigma 14-24mm f2.8 

Linking Water H2O Thursday