In the combination of autumn warmth and recent rain, it was a perfect day to hunt chanterelles. With my golden retriever and collie, I headed up the trail. At the fork, I found fresh scats: a cluster of fur and toenails, the remains of vole or shrew or feral cat. From hours and miles of forest walking, seeking to soothe the recent warp of my parents’ deaths, I was tuned to the dogs on some atavistic level.
Read the full story A Perfect Day for Chanterelles by Kirie Pedersen in The Great American Literary Magazine
