Alas, poor Yorick

It must be my Slavonic genes that make me myco-psychic*, since I cannot otherwise account for changing tack from my usual route in order to investigate what looked like a windblown plastic bag across the field. And there was this giant puffball about the size and shape of a human skull, still firm and white on the incredible date of December 1st. Calvatia gigantea is usually found in late summer, and appears so football-like among the grass that the impulse to kick it seems almost universal - unless its edible possibility stays the foot.

The fungal cranium here has already provided an unseasonal feast for slugs. Nevertheless I would have been tempted to enjoy it (him?) myself had I not already picked more than enough blewits and oyster mushrooms to keep me going for days.
A fellow of infinite jest, of most excellent fancy...

* I word I have invented, meaning 'second-sight for mushrooms'