Lisa 🦔<p>It must have been a mast year for acorns in western NC. Every night there was an absolute acorn artillery bouncing off of the camper roof. But also, each morning, I found a new lichen covered piece of bark or branch resting on the picnic table. It was just this ever growing scene unfolding each day. On my last morning before I hit the road, a teeny tiny mushroom had popped up in the nooks between the bits of gifted tableau. <a href="https://flipping.rocks/tags/LichenSubscribe" class="mention hashtag" rel="nofollow noopener" target="_blank">#<span>LichenSubscribe</span></a> <a href="https://flipping.rocks/tags/Mushtodon" class="mention hashtag" rel="nofollow noopener" target="_blank">#<span>Mushtodon</span></a> <a href="https://flipping.rocks/tags/Mosstodon" class="mention hashtag" rel="nofollow noopener" target="_blank">#<span>Mosstodon</span></a> <a href="https://flipping.rocks/tags/MastYear" class="mention hashtag" rel="nofollow noopener" target="_blank">#<span>MastYear</span></a></p>