"Whose Woods These Are" for FUNGI Magazine
The morning of my first ever foray is blessed with a surprise rain. It’s more of a thick mist than a shower, like invisible hands are catching the drops and cupping them in midair for a moment before letting them plummet to the earth. Despite the drizzle, at least fifteen people are standing in the cratered parking lot of Schiller Woods. Baskets in hand and clustered in groups of twos and threes, they chat amongst themselves and nestle in the black-green-brown comfort of their raincoats. They're an eclectic looking bunch, but their separate conversations all swirl in similar directions.