Dear Curiosity Journal,

Slightly sooner sunsets signal my inner squirrel and I set my food preservation intentions. The seasonal call from my inner clock, “Winter is coming”, acts as a commanding catalyst for canning. I take up my foraging basket with Ghost Pipe in mind. Then Elderberries wave and I stop to pick a few, noticing the birds are taking their portion and patting myself on the back for harvesting my fraction before they strip the umbels clean. I continue down the path and am flagged down by Prickly Ash, whose ripe and splitting follicles beseech me to inhale their spicy citrus scent. Savoring the smell on my fingertips, I carry on towards the woods until I am stilled by Wild Grape, who beckons louder than the rest, coaxing me closer with her curvaceous clusters, inviting me to the vine. Is it you who has called me to the field? Our destiny felt ripe. Dropping an offering of hair from the nape of my neck and giving the proper thanks, I move to an angle with the least Multi Flora Rose (doing my utmost to avoid her piercing grip) and collect the fruit. Hiking home, delightfully derailed from my original task, I whip up a wild grape jelly experiment, wondering at my whimsical kinship with the natural world which fills my basket to the brim.