Chapter 17: Mycorrhizas: Mutualistic Plant-Fungus Symbioses

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Imagine plants making their first monumental leap.

We're talking ancient waters to barren land over 400 million years ago.

It's almost impossible to picture, right?

Absolutely.

A huge challenge.

How did these early pioneers survive?

I mean, let alone thrive, when they lacked proper roots and the soil was just so desolate?

It's a great question.

What if their success, their very ability to, you know, colonize Earth,

depended on a secret, a hidden partnership happening right beneath their feet?

Well, that's exactly what we're digging into today.

Welcome to the deep dive.

This is where we take a stack of information, we dissect it, and extract the most important nuggets of knowledge just for you.

Today, we're doing a deep dive into exactly that secret world, the fascinating realm of mycorrhizas.

Yep.

Those often unseen, but absolutely critical alliances between fungi and plants.

Our mission today, and we're drawing heavily from Bryce Kendrick's foundational work in the Fifth Kingdom, is really to make these incredibly ancient and, let's face it, complex relationships clear and understandable.

Even without diagrams.

Exactly.

We'll trace their origins, uncover their two main strategies, really get into how they work, and crucially, why they're so vital.

We're talking everything from agriculture to the health of our planet's oldest forests.

You might genuinely never look at a plant or even a mushroom the same way again after this.

I think you're right.

It's a story of profound coevolution, you know?

What's truly remarkable here is how these ancient partnerships continue to shape our ecosystems today.

It's like a shortcut to understanding the foundational elements of plant life on Earth.

Okay, let's unpack this incredible underground story.

So let's start right at the very beginning.

The term mycorrhiza itself, coined back in 1885, literally means fungus root.

Simple enough, right?

Fungus root.

It tells us it's a connection, yeah.

But what kind of connection are we talking about here?

Is it like one organism taking advantage of the other?

Parasitic or something?

Nicer.

Ah, much nicer.

It's the ultimate example of a mutualistic symbiosis.

Both partners benefit significantly.

Mutualistic, okay.

Yeah, there are no free rides in this relationship.

Instead, it's a carefully balanced exchange that's been honed over, well, hundreds of millions of years.

And the origin story is just remarkable.

Over 400 million years ago, plants start colonizing land.

Massive challenge, right?

They had very rudimentary root systems, sometimes none at all.

And the soil was tough, really nutrient poor.

Meanwhile you've got these filamentous fungi.

They'd also recently emerged from water, but they were sort of perfectly adapted to explore this new soil environment.

Exactly.

They were good at seeking out scarce water and critically vital mineral nutrients, especially phosphorus.

So plants, with their new superpower of photosynthesis, are land -bound, but root -challenged fungi.

Just to sure, incredible explorers, but carb -hungry.

Was it really a match made in ancient Devonian soil, or was there more to this unlikely first date?

Oh, it was absolutely a match born of sheer necessity.

Plants could photosynthesize, right, creating energy -rich carbon compounds, sugar, exactly food the fungi desperately needed.

In return, the fungi, with their vast networks of these fine threads called hyphae, could effectively extend the plant's reach deep into the soil.

Like a massive root system extension.

Precisely.

Delivering that scarce water and those essential minerals, it was, you know, a perfect trade.

And we have solid proof of this.

It's not just a good story.

Oh, absolutely.

Fossils from the Devonian period contain incredibly well -preserved fungal structures inside ancient plant roots.

No way.

Yeah, and they look almost identical to the Arbuscular Mycorrhizal, or AM, fungal structures we find in, get this, over 90 % of healthy modern plants today.

Wow.

So this isn't just a theory.

It's etched right there in the fossil record.

Correct.

A partnership that has endured for hundreds of millions of years.

That's astounding.

And the benefits are still huge today, right?

Mycorrhizal plants, they just grow better, especially in poor soils.

What's the biggest game -changer for the plants from this fungal delivery service?

It's largely about efficiency and reach.

The fungal hyphae, those threads, can penetrate vast volumes of soil, way beyond what the plant's own roots could ever access on their own.

This lets them scavenge for water, nitrogen, and especially phosphorus, which is often the limiting nutrient for plant growth, and then efficiently pass them to the plant.

And that translates into real -world advantages.

No.

Enormous ones.

Mycorrhizal plants need less fertilizer, they're more resistant to things like heavy metal pollution, acid rain, they can even grow on really tough land in fertile areas, mine spoils, high elevations where they'd otherwise just, well, fail.

And it doesn't stop there, does it?

It's like an all -in -one survival kit.

It really is.

These partnerships help plants withstand transplant shock, resist soil -borne diseases,

tolerate extreme temperatures, salinity, pH levels, you name it.

It makes perfect sense, then, why over 90 % of all higher plant species are normally mycorrhizal.

It's almost like a prerequisite for life on land.

Pretty much, yeah.

And at its core, you know, every mycorrhizal relationship, no matter the type, involves three basic functional bits.

First, you've got the fungal mycelium, that huge network of hyphae exploring the soil, grabbing nutrients.

Second, there's a specialized fungus plant interface.

That's where the actual exchange happens, sugars for nutrients.

The trading posts.

Exactly.

And third, you need the plant tissues that produce and store the carbohydrates from photosynthesis.

It's a beautifully balanced interdependent system.

Okay, so we've set the stage, this ancient vital partnership.

Now let's look at the two main ways this incredible underground story plays out.

Two distinct strategies dominating our forests, our farmlands.

Right, each with its own fascinating architecture.

We're talking ectomycorrhizas, or EM,

and arbuscular mycorrhizas, AM.

And you said the big distinction is how intimate the fungus gets with the plant cells.

That's the key difference, yeah.

AM fungi primarily grow around and between the root cells.

Think ecto, meaning outside.

AM fungi actually penetrate into the plant cells themselves.

Arbuscular referring to the structures inside.

Okay, let's start with ectomycorrhizas then.

The EM type, often called the sheathed roots.

Yep.

These are prominent in about 2 ,000 plant species.

Mostly really important forest trees, think pines, spruces, oaks, beaches, even eucalypts down under.

Major players.

Definitely.

And these trees partner with a huge array of fungi, around 5 ,000 species.

Mostly the familiar mushrooms we see, the Basidiomycota and some Ascomycota too.

So if I'm picturing an EM root, what should I imagine?

Okay, picture this.

It forms on the short or feeder roots, usually maybe a month or two after a tree seed germinates.

The most striking thing you'd notice, if you could see it, is the mantle.

The mantle.

Like a cloak.

Exactly like a cloak, or maybe a sheath.

It's a dense, protective layer of fungal hyphae that completely surrounds the root tip.

And it's not just a light dusting, it can be thick.

Really thick.

Sometimes making up almost half the entire mycorrhizas biomass.

And this mantle literally changes how the root looks.

It becomes thicker, often a different color, and it branches in characteristic ways, sometimes like a fork splitting in two.

And crucially, the plant's own root hairs.

They get suppressed.

Why is that?

Because this fungal mantle basically takes over their job of absorption, it's much more efficient.

Okay, so there's the outer mantle.

What else is characteristic of EM?

Beneath that mantle, weaving its way between the root's cortical cells is the heartignet.

This is the really diagnostic structure for an ectomycorrhiza.

Heartignet.

Yeah.

Imagine it like a tiny, intricate, sort of hand -holding network.

The fungal hyphae form this single -layered mesh that surrounds each cortical cell.

And this is key, it never actually breaks through the cell wall.

So it stays between the cells.

Correct.

It creates this vast extracellular interface for nutrient exchange, but it's always technically outside the inner sanctum of the plant cell itself.

So if EM is like the plant's root wearing this super -powered fungal glove,

what's the fungal strategy here?

Are they just hanging out?

Not twice.

Many EM fungi are what we call obligate root symbionts.

You can sometimes grow them in a lab, but they often grow really slowly and they just can't compete with other soil fungi unless they have a living host tree to partner with.

They really need that tree.

They really do.

It's a required connection for them.

And that connection comes with this fascinating energy exchange.

The plant sends its sugars, its photosynthates, down to the fungal mandel.

What happens next?

Okay, this is clever.

The fungus takes those plant sugars and converts them into its own fungal carbohydrates, things like trehalose and mannitol, or stores them as glycogen.

Okay, that's right.

So the real genius here is that the plant cannot reabsorb these converted fungal sugars.

It basically locks them up in a form only the fungus can readily use.

So the fungal sheath becomes like a pantry, a storage organ.

Exactly, a crucial sink for carbohydrates.

So the plant makes a big investment then.

You said maybe 10 % of its total photosynthates.

That's a lot.

A huge investment, yeah.

But it sounds like this storage system isn't just a one -way street for the fungus.

What are the broader consequences for the plant, for the whole forest?

Right, it's a hugely dynamic system.

Think about autumn.

Many of these fungi mobilize those stored carbs to produce massive flushes of mushrooms above ground.

The ones we see in the woods.

Yep, or even underground fruit bodies like truffles.

Plus, these stored carbohydrates can be moved through the fungal network, the mycelium, from established trees to young seedlies nearby.

Helping the next generation get started.

Exactly.

It helps the whole forest thrive.

And the tree itself isn't locked out completely.

It can reclaim some of that stored energy during new growth periods like in the spring.

That makes sense.

This whole system, you know, with perennial root -lid storing carbs and this massive seasonal It perfectly adapts EM plants to places like cool temperate forests, boreal regions, mountains,

places with big seasonal swings in nutrients.

So the tree's investment is definitely paid back.

Oh, more than compensated.

By significantly increased mineral absorption, not just NMP, but calcium, potassium, magnesium, zinc, you name it.

And storage too.

That's incredible.

And the diversity of these EM fungi is huge, you said.

Vast.

Mostly familiar, Basidio mycetes, the mushrooms, the club fungi, and some Asco mycetes, many of which fruit underground.

Think common genera like Russela, Lactarius, Amanita.

Some are generalists, right?

Partnering with lots of trees.

Yeah, like Amanita muscaria, the fly agaric, partners with many tree species.

But others are highly specific.

Sulis grevillea, for example, only associates with large trees.

Wow.

And a single tree can host multiple fungal partners?

Oh, yes.

Many different fungi simultaneously.

And those partners can even change over the tree's lifetime.

It's really complex and adaptable.

Okay, that's ectomycorrhizis.

Now let's shift to the other major player.

Arbuscular mycorrhizis, or AM, the intracellular trellis, you call them.

Right.

And these are by far the commoner type, found in over 300 ,000 plant species.

That's like 90 % of healthy modern plants.

90%.

That's staggering.

It is.

Yet, this huge number of plants partners with a surprisingly small number of fungal species, only about 230 known, all from one phylum, the glomeromotota.

And these fungi are different how?

They are obligate biotrophs, meaning they absolutely require a living host plant to grow and complete their life cycle.

You can't just grow them on a petri dish easily.

Okay, so AMs are much more subtle than EMs.

You said you can't usually see them with the naked eye, no external mantle, no big mushrooms.

Exactly, much more hidden.

So how does this invisible partnership actually unfold inside the root?

Well, it starts when a spore gruminates in the soil.

If it bumps into a receptive root, it forms a special little pad called an apresorium.

Like an anchor.

Sort of, yeah, an adhesion structure.

And then it gently penetrates the root, usually in the zone where the root is elongating.

Once inside, the real magic happens.

The key structure forms the arbuscule.

Arbuscule.

It sounds like arbor, like a tree.

Precisely.

Fungal hyphae grow between the root cortical cells, then specialized fine branches actually push through the cell walls of individual cortical cells.

They branch repeatedly inside, forming these microscopic, finely branched, tree -like structures.

So it's like the fungus builds its own little internal trading post right inside the plant cell.

That's a great way to put it.

It dramatically increases the surface area for exchange.

But critically, these arbuscules are always encapsulated by the host plant's own internal membrane, so while they've pushed through the cell wall, they're not truly floating free inside the plant's cytoplasm.

Ah, contained within a plant membrane.

Yes.

And this is where the main nutrient exchange happens.

You see the plant cell responding to its nucleus enlarges, the cytoplasm increases.

It's an active partnership.

And these arbuscules, they stick around?

Actually no.

They're pretty short -lived.

They break down after about 4 to 15 days, and the root cell typically just returns to normal.

It's a dynamic interface.

Now, many AM fungi also form these other structures, vesicles, right?

Inside the root cells.

That's right.

Thin -walled, often inflated, lipid -filled structures, they seem to act as storage organs for the fungus.

But I heard the name Vesicular Arbuscular Mycorrhiza, or VAM, isn't used as much anymore?

Correct.

The name got shortened to just AM, because one significant group, the genus Gigaspera, forms arbuscules, but doesn't actually form vesicles.

So AM is more inclusive.

If you hear VAM, though, you know what they mean.

It's just slightly older terminology for the same general group.

Got it.

So while the fungus is busy inside the root with arbuscules and maybe vesicles, what's it doing outside?

Ah, it's also developing an extensive network of extramatrical hyphae out in the soil.

Extramatrical meaning outside the root matrix.

Extending the reach again.

Massively.

These hyphae can extend 8 centimeters or even more from the root surface, vastly increasing the volume of soil the plant can tap into for nutrients.

And those hyphae bring in nutrients.

Primarily nitrogen and phosphorus, yeah.

They bring those to the plant, and in return, the plant supplies the photosynthates, the sugars, back to the fungus.

This fuels the fungus to expand its network and produce its spores.

Tell me about the spores.

Are they like mushroom spores?

Not quite.

AM spores are asexual, often quite large.

You can sometimes see them with the naked eye.

They're typically thick -walled, often pigmented, and packed full of storage lipids, which helps them survive in the soil for a long time.

And the taxonomy, the classification of these AM fungi is evolving.

Rapidly, yes.

Currently around 29 genera recognized within the Glomeromycota.

We don't need to know all 29, but it's maybe worth mentioning Lomis, which is the commonest genus, form simple globose spores.

And then there's Gigaspera, known for its much larger spores and sometimes unique surface ornamentation.

It's amazing how widespread AMs are, but you mentioned exceptions.

Not all plants form mycorrhizas.

Right.

While over 90 % do, there are exceptions.

Most are herbaceous annuals.

Plants like Mustards in the Brasicaceae family or the Chameleonaceae.

Often things we'd consider weedy.

Why wouldn't they want the benefits?

Well, they often grow very quickly.

They develop finely branched roots with lots of root hairs very fast.

They essentially get the nutrients they need quickly without waiting for a fungal partner to colonize them.

They kind of bypass the need.

Interesting.

Any woody exceptions?

Yes.

The Proteaceae family, think Bankseas and Grebelis from Australia, is the only entirely non -mycorrhizal woody family known.

And some plants, like those Mustards again, have actually evolved chemical defenses against pathogens that might inadvertently discourage beneficial fungi too.

So okay, we've laid out the incredible science behind these partnerships,

EM and AM.

Now what does this all mean for us, practically speaking?

Knowing about these systems, how can we actually harness their power for things like agriculture, forestry?

That's the crucial next step, isn't it?

It raises the big question.

How do we select the best fungal partners for specific plants and specific environments?

Because it's definitely not a one -size -fits -all situation.

Careful evaluation and selection are absolutely key for both EM and AM fungi.

We're essentially looking for fungi with the best set of superpowers for the job at hand.

Superpowers.

I like that.

So each one a specialist, though.

If you had to boil it down, what are the top few things, the absolute non -negotiables, when you're choosing a fungal sidekick for a plant?

Okay, I'd group them into maybe three main areas.

First, you absolutely have to consider plant performance and growth.

Makes sense.

Does it work?

Exactly.

You need to see tangible results.

How quickly and how extensively does the fungus actually colonize the roots?

That's quantifiable.

And critically, how much does it improve the plant's health?

Are we seeing better survival rates, increased height, thicker stems, bigger leaves, or ultimately higher crop yield?

Real results.

For example, some fungi like Psoleuthis tincturus, it comes up a lot.

It's an absolute champion in extremely low fertility soils.

Like mine spoils.

It just thrives where others fail.

Okay.

So seeing the plant actually do better, what's the second big category for these fungal superpowers?

Second would be environmental resilience.

We need fungi that help plants tolerate stress.

Like a bodyguard.

Sort of.

This includes things like managing water relations.

Some fungi, like Cynococcum geophilum, are incredibly tolerant of drought, low water potential, perfect for dry areas.

We also look at temperature tolerance, selecting cold -adapted strains for high altitudes or heat -adapted ones for warmer climates.

Adapting to the place.

Precisely.

And crucially, pH tolerance.

That Psoleuthis again shows its versatility.

It can handle a huge pH range from really acidic like 2 .6 up to alkaline 8 .4.

That makes it invaluable for reclaiming things like acid mine sites.

Some fungi can even tolerate high levels of heavy metal.

Which is vital for cleaning up contaminated land.

Okay.

Fascinating.

Fungal shield.

What's the third key area for selection?

Third, and this is very practical, it's about ease of use and sustainability.

Can we actually work with it?

Right.

How readily can we isolate the fungus?

Can we produce enough inoculum, enough starter material?

For EM fungi, we can often culture them, although it can be slow.

Psoleuthis was an early commercial success story for inoculum production.

And AM fungi.

You said they're trickier.

Much harder because they're obligate biotrophs.

They need that living plant host.

But modern biotechnology has found a clever workaround using genetically modified hairy roots.

Hairy roots?

Yeah.

Using agrobacterium rhizal genes.

These roots can be grown rapidly in sterile conditions, and you can use them to multiply AM fungal spores in large, clean batches.

It allows for scalable production.

That's clever.

Any other practical factors?

Well, maybe a slightly surprising one, edibility.

Sometimes choosing edible fungi like Boletus edulis, porcini, or cultivating truffles, tuber melanosporum, can create a valuable byproduct for a forestry project.

The double win.

Exactly.

Provided, of course, you avoid partnering your trees with something highly toxic like aminidaphyloids, the death cap.

Good point.

Okay, so we know how to choose the right partner based on these superpowers.

But how do we actually introduce these fungi to our plants?

How do we get these helpful allies where they need to be in practice?

Good question.

There are several ways, and each has its own pros and cons.

The least controlled method is just relying on natural spore inoculum, basically hoping the right spores are already in the soil.

Sounds unreliable.

It is.

Very unreliable.

Depends on seasonality.

Dispersal is limited.

You have no control over which fungus you get, and it might be unsuitable anyway.

Okay, so not ideal for planned applications.

What's a more targeted approach?

Well, you can use colonized soil.

Take soil from around established mycorrhizal plants and mix it, maybe 10 % by volume, into a new nursery bed or planting site.

Does that work?

It can be quite effective, yeah.

It was used successfully to establish exotic pines in new areas.

But the downside is you might also introduce other fungi or even unwanted pathogens that are in that soil.

Right, unintended consequences.

Other methods.

You can use mycorrhizal seedlings, plant seedlings that are already colonized, and they can then inoculate the soil or nearby plants.

Or you can directly use collected spores, fruit bodies, or sclerotia.

Sclerotia.

Yeah, those are hardened, durable resting structures some fungi make, like senococum.

They can be harvested in large numbers and survive well.

Collecting spores from puff balls like rhizopogon or pisolophus can also work.

But collecting mushrooms sounds difficult on a large scale.

It can be, and the material is often perishable.

Plus, spore inoculum sometimes establishes more slowly than other methods.

So what's the most controlled, maybe most cutting -edge method?

That would be using fungal mycelium grown from pure culture.

Lab -grown.

Exactly.

This guarantees the identity of the fungus and ensures no pathogens are introduced.

However, it's generally more expensive.

Some important fungi are still difficult to culture, the cultures grow slowly, and there's always a question about how well these lab -grown fungi will survive and compete once they're out in the real soil against the native microbes.

So the focus there is often on?

Often on developing what they call early colonizers fungi that are really good at establishing quickly on young seedlings in a nursery setting.

It really sounds like these tiny underground partnerships have just monumental implications for our planet.

Indeed they do.

If you connect all this back to the bigger picture,

that phrase,

most woody plants require mycorrhizas to survive and most herbaceous plants need them to thrive, well, it truly highlights their global significance.

It underlines how critical they are for pretty much all plant life and how understanding them directly impacts major environmental concerns.

Absolutely.

Think about the environmental impact, the rapid destruction of, say, endomycorrhizal rainforests.

That's a huge concern because these complex ecosystems don't regenerate easily or quickly once cleared.

And replanting efforts.

Especially with ectomycorrhizal trees like conifers, which are common in reforestation, making sure they have the right fungal partners from the start.

That fungal investment is absolutely crucial for success.

This also points towards huge potential for sustainable agriculture and forestry, doesn't it?

Enormous potential.

Investing in the research and biotechnology for mycorrhizal funga promises things like easier, faster tree establishment, accelerated forest growth, maybe even reducing erosion.

In commercial inoculum.

It could genuinely help wean us off such heavy reliance on chemical fertilizers, especially phosphate fertilizers.

As energy costs continue to rise and phosphorus reserves dwindle, it's a more natural, sustainable approach.

But there's still a lot we don't know.

Oh, absolutely.

There's still so much to learn, particularly about the subtle, complex contributions of the indigenous AM fungi already present in diverse field soils.

It's a whole world of unseen connections just waiting to be fully understood.

Now while EM and AM are definitely the heavy hitters, the powerhouses of the mycorrhizal world,

nature, as it always does, seems to surprise us with even more specialized and sometimes frankly bizarre variations on this theme.

Doesn't it just?

There are some truly unique relationships out there.

Let's briefly peek at a few of those.

Definitely.

Take orchid mycorrhizas.

Orchids produce these astronomical numbers of tiny, almost dust -like seeds.

They have virtually no food reserves.

So how do they germinate?

For years, sometimes up to 11 years, they depend entirely on fungi, often from the genus rhizectonia, just for basic nutrition until they can establish leaves and start photosynthesizing.

11 years.

Yeah.

The fungus enters the orchid's root cells and forms these coils called pelotons.

The orchid then actually digests these coils.

It's this incredibly delicate balancing act.

The fungus is feeding the plant, but the plant is also kind of consuming the fungus, managing a living food source.

Wow.

Complete dependence for the first part of their lives.

Okay, but here's where it gets, for me, really weird and interesting.

Monotripoid mycorrhizas.

Ah, yes.

The ghost plants.

Found in colorless plants, like monotropa, the Indian pipe, no chlorophyll at all.

They can't make their own food, period.

Right.

So how do they live?

This is where the fungus becomes a bridge, or maybe a kind of middleman in a biological heist.

A heist.

While monotropa actually takes food, sugars, directly from its fungal partner.

But that fungal partner is also, at the same time, normally ectomycorrhizal with a nearby green plant, usually a conifer tree.

Wait, so the fungus… The fungus acts like a double agent.

It forms a normal EM relationship with the tree, getting sugars from the tree, but then it passes some of those sugars along to the monotropa plant.

So the monotropa is effectively stealing food from the tree via the fungus.

Exactly.

It shows monotropa isn't a saprophite living off dead stuff.

It's actually a parasite.

A fascinating type called a mycoheterotroph, meaning it gets its energy heterotrophically via a fungus.

Mind blown.

A plant parasitizing a fungus, which is itself in a mutualistic relationship with another plant.

Amazing.

It really is.

And we also see other variations out there, like arycoid and arbutoid mycorrhizas.

They show sort of intermediate forms.

Some have mantles like EM, some have intracellular coils like orchids, but maybe more organized.

It just proves these partnerships aren't always rigidly defined boxes.

It's a whole spectrum of interaction and adaptability.

Precisely.

It constantly pushes the boundaries of how we understand these symbiotic relationships and just how much complexity is hidden right beneath our feet.

We have explored a vast unseen world today.

It's been quite the journey.

We've discovered how mycorrhizas are these ancient,

absolutely vital partnerships.

Really foundation.

We've distinguished between ectomycorrhizas of fungus around and between root cells, forming those mantles and hearty nets, so critical for our forest trees, and arbuscular mycorrhizas, where the fungus goes into the root cells, forming arbuscules, incredibly widespread, especially in herbaceous plants.

The two main strategies, yeah.

We've seen how these symbioses drive plant growth, nutrient uptake, stress resistance,

how we can potentially leverage them for ecological and economic benefits.

And we've also discovered some of the fascinating, sometimes parasitic, outliers.

It truly highlights how knowledge is most valuable when it's really understood and hopefully applied.

And it definitely reminds us that there's always more to learn in these complex natural systems.

From ancient forests right through to modern farms, the unseen world beneath our feet is just this symphony of cooperation, all thanks to these amazing mycorrhizal fungi.

It's quite humbling, really.

So next time you walk through a forest, or maybe even just look at a houseplant, take a second.

Consider the intricate, ancient, and often completely hidden alliances happening just beneath the soil surface, a whole other kingdom working hand -in -hand, or maybe hypha in root with the plants we depend on.

Makes you wonder, doesn't it?

It does.

What other unseen partnerships, known and maybe unknown, are shaping our world right now?

Something to think about.

Thank you so much for joining us on this deep dive.

We really hope this has given you a shortcut to being well informed about the fascinating world of mycorrhizas, drawing inspiration, of course, from Bryce Kendrick's incredible work.

It's been a pleasure exploring it with you.

We appreciate you exploring this topic with us.