“Foragers feast,” my father would say, and we’d set out into the woods, cedar bark baskets in our hands. In the summer, we harvested bright red huckleberries, and salal berries so dark blue they looked like night in your hand. In the fall, we found mushrooms hiding under the trees- I was captivated by the convoluted morels, each one a labyrinth of nooks and crannies.”
