Do we ever really say goodbye? On grief and spores.
As a youngster, I used to enjoy stomping down on mushrooms growing in our yard. Sometimes, when I jumped on them particularly ferociously, I could see some sort of powder fly out.
Years later, I learned that the flying powder was spores. Spores are one way that nature keeps things alive. It’s like Nature’s filing system. When I stomped on those mushrooms, the powder from under the mushroom’s head and gills generated those puff-clouds, which were then carried off by the breeze into the world. Those spores ensured that my pre-stomped mushroom endured.
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