Through the Enchanted Forest

Where Mushrooms Dance and Light Wanders

This time I want to introduce you to one of my favourite forest. It’s an old research forest in South Finland, near our home, but I’m not gonna tell about the research side this time — only about its mystical, fairy-tale side. So, let’s just wander together through it. Welcome to the Enchanted Forest!

Follow the paths, they keep you on track. It might seem like an ordinary forest, but when you stay there long enough, you notice it’s not. First weird thing you notice might be just the atmosphere — a feeling that something is not how it should be. Or that corner of the forest that was there last time, is gone, or that a path leads totally different place than last year. Forest changes. New paths appear out of nowhere.

Even though, you don’t need a map — you always find the way out. This forest isn’t evil, just whimsical and bizarre. You might see dark gaps under the trees or between the stones. Don’t go in! They are entrances to the place I’m not allowed to tell you. From them, you might hear whispers, carrying secrets from ancient times, kept safe by the roots until they vanish, as they rot into the earth.

The forest floor is softer than nothing. I recommend laying down on it — watch the treetops slowly moving in the wind, and the quietly drifting clouds. Close your eyes and feel the earth under you. Feel the warmth of the ground and imagine all the little living things — fungal network, microscopic insects, tiny worms, hidden seeds and roots — around you.

Now you are connected with the forest’s rhythm. Every heartbeat echoes the life of this forest. Every breath flows with the leaves above you. Listen closely! Now you are able to hear the enchanted voices — soft steps of unseen creatures, whispering of the tiny wings and — and the chatter of the mushrooms!

No, it isn’t just chatting after all. It’s dance music. You let your eyes wander and seek the source of the sound. There! On the treestump. You take a few fast steps, eyes wide open and thinking, are you seeing correctly? Are those mushrooms really dancing and having fun?

Yes they are! Their stems bend and sway in rhythm, tapping the stump as if it were a stage. It’s as if the whole forest were watching their tiny performance. But the mushrooms won’t care about you — they just dance, lost in their own rhythm. Their world is small and complete: just the beat, the spin, the joy of movement.

Head still fizzy you move along. Back to the path. The sun is a bit lower than it was before. It almost feels like light is coming from a different direction than it did just a few moments ago. But after the trance party of fungi, you’re not so easily surprised anymore. But I bet you will never watch mushrooms the same way as before.

Path leads you to a different area of forest. There, the forest is more deciduous and the mossy mat has changed to grassy. Now you can hear birds singing and squirrels jumping in the trees. It feels almost normal again — until you notice how the moss has climbed the tree trunk to find safety. What frightened the moss? What could be so scary? The moss even looks like it’s frozen with fear.

One group of trees is like totems of the forest Overseen, their trunks marked with pale patches of lichen that would glow in the moonlight. The Overseen is hiding behind some tree, and you might catch a glimpse of him peeking — black top hat and black tailcoat, his facial expression a mix of surprise and irritation. To your luck, he’s shy. He won’t bother you, just stares for a while and then steps back behind the tree.

Keep walking!

Path is suspicious — too straight, too perfectly worn, too quiet, too deliberate. The path runs between two worlds: on one side, the scent of evergreens fills the air, needles crunching underfoot. On the other, deciduous trees stretch their leafy arms, sunlight filtering through. This is the path where two forests meet, and the line between them is like stepping from one realm into another.

You decide to walk it without delay and avoid looking to the sides. It’s going well and you almost think you overreacted — until you hear steps and heavy breathing behind you. You quickened your steps and almost start to run. Heart beats faster. Almost at the end of the path, you close eyes hoping this nightmare would be over. And when you open them, you are in a totally different place. Almost like you have stepped through a portal.

Once again, light has changed direction. There’s pines and spruces, and a path full of hope and peace. Slowly it changes to mossy undergrowth, which invites you to come further. It’s almost too clean to be a forest at all. No fallen branches, no cones or dead leaves. Like someone has vacuumed here recently.

Maybe it was a Moss Sweeper, with a dust whisk made of feathers and a vacuum carved from hollowed-out acorns, gently puffing breezes that lifted every dust mote without disturbing a single busy beetle or cocooned caterpillar.

Only messy thing seen is this scrambled-egg slime (Finn. paranvoi, Fuligo septica), as if the forest itself had spilled a bit of magic here. Looks like it’s spilling over the moss like molten gold, shifting slowly as if it has a life of its own. You roll your eyes and let out an involuntary laugh. What a funny place!

You notice a nice cozy spot — like a foresty livingroom. You sit there to sigh and wonder about all that you have seen. Ferns gently stroking your feet, you take a deep breath, letting the scents of the forest, earth, and damp moss fill your lungs. Time seems to stretch here, quiet and unhurried, and for a moment, the world outside this little forest feels impossibly far away.

Then you hear croaks and open your eyes. A small frog is on your lap and you gently offer your hand to it and see it effortlessly jump onto your finger. You raise it to eye level and the frog really looks at you. In a low, polite voice, it says, “Excuse me, could you tell me the way to the mushroom rave?”

You are speechless — the only thing you are able to do is point to the direction of that mad treestump. The frog thanks you and hops away towards the setting sun and faint music.

You watch the frog disappear, and soft breeze rustles through the trees. The forest seems to be mischievously pleased as if it knows you had witnessed its little secret.

Standing up, you take one last look around — every leaf, every shadow, every whisper feels alive. And then, with a sense of enchantment in your heart, you step back onto the path, carrying a piece of the forest’s magic with you.

Now, follow the light of the setting sun, and soon you’ll find your way home.

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This post is part of the Enchanted Stories section. Click the flower cup and you’ll find more!