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The smell of mud and fungus and rotting plant life was overpowering - it clung to the air even inside the house and, if asked about it, Casper would simply wax poetic about the fragile beauty of nature and decay. Not that they were often asked about it; they rarely entertained guests, owing to their eccentric disposition and even more eccentric choice of living arrangements. That suited them fine. They had the mushrooms to keep them company.
They throw open the door and breathe in deep, filling their nose and their lungs with (probably harmless) spores with a smile.
Another wonderful day in the marshes.