There’s a lot of fungus among us in our landscapes, and for the most part, it’s okay; whenever we have cool, moist weather many put on quite a show.

            Not talking here about molds, or the damaging, frustrating fungi that cause root rots, leaf spots, and fruit rots to flower and edible garden plants. Those are best handled with getting rid of diseased plants, rotating crops (don’t plant the same stuff in the same spot year after year), planting resistant varieties, and regular fungicide sprays.

            But I do admire the showy ones out in the landscape which are mostly harmless to healthy plants. You will rarely notice fungi, which are more closely related to animals than plants , most being tiny and thread-like, though they can connect into large masses; one in Oregon takes up more space than 1600 football fields, making it the world’s largest living organism.

As they spread over, into, and interweave with decaying fallen leaves, lawn thatch, mulch, the inner wood of damaged tree roots and trunks, and other decaying plant parts, their slow organic burn is what does most of the actual rotting and composting.

            And most are good guys, though some damage fenceposts, decks, and other garden structures, which can only be protected by using treated wood, which merely staves off the inevitable. On plants themselves we use fungicide sprays or drenches, but those work like temporary sunscreen in that they must be applied before, not after, the damage is done.

            But this time of year, like in the spring, when temperatures are somewhat cool and there is plenty of moisture, fungi not only spread more rapidly but also do something elfin-magical: they sprout their versions of flowers. Called “fruiting bodies” by scientists, these temporary structures, which are mostly water and air, take on some bizarre shapes sizes, and colors.

These show up as familiar fairy-tale mushrooms and toadstools, hollow puff balls, shelf-like brackets protruding from tree trunks and limbs, frilly jelly-like and slimy foamy masses that look like a dog threw up onto the ground, and tiny “bird nest” cups. One group is called “stinkhorn” for the gasp-worthy foul fragrance produced by its lattice- or finger-shaped protrusions (trust me, the smell is a real wowza.)

            Some are famously edible, a few are used medicinally, others are notoriously toxic. And, coming from one who has participated in many “forays” led by trained fungi experts, many in the wild look very similar, to the point where only very experienced people can tell them apart. As the old saying goes, when it comes to wild ‘shroom foraging, “There are old mushroom hunters, and there are bold mushroom hunters, but there are very few old, bold mushroom hunters.”

            The mushrooms most likely to be found in gardens are those that pop up in mulch and moist potting soil, sprouting along the lines of old dead tree roots, protruding from diseased tree trunks and limbs, and beautiful curves of white toadstools called “fairy rings” growing beneath lawns like a slo-mo ripple when a stone is tossed into a lake. As the rings spread outward, a foot or two a year, a thin band of grass may yellow or die, but will grow back as the ring continues to spread.

            Not much we can do anyway. Unlike harmful garden fungi, my standard recommendation for those in the lawn, mulch, or old trees: Admire them, ignore them, or scoop them up and toss where children and eat-anything pets can’t get to them.

            Meanwhile, you may see me sprawled across lawns or crouched along woodland trails photographing these oddly beautiful creatures.

Felder Rushing is a Mississippi author, columnist, and host of the “Gestalt Gardener” on MPB Think Radio. Email gardening questions to rushingfelder@yahoo.com.