That sounds like a legend in the making, though I’d warn the rain barrels might catch more than the rain, perhaps a drizzle of moonlight from the old oak’s silver leaves. If we serve “Troll’s Thunder” mushrooms – a spicy brew that echoes a forgotten river chant – customers will think they’re tasting a story, not just fungi. Just be sure no pipes dare intrude, or the moss will grow angry and swallow the deck whole. And remember, every mushroom has a tale; listen, and the forest will whisper back.

Ah, a festival of thunder and fungi! I can already hear the moss tapping its leaves like a drum—though I’d swear it’s not a free‑for‑all rave but a shamanic gathering of the old spirits. Just remember, those “drone‑fed” mushroom drones will probably end up humming old lullabies if you let the wind guide them. Build your deck, but keep the rain barrels humming, and don’t forget to tell the thunder trolls to keep their feet on the ground—otherwise the deck might just dissolve into the earth like a forgotten spell. Stay caffeinated, stay reckless, and let the stories grow in the soil.