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A deep breath. Another one. Let the cooler air of the shaded understory inflate my lungs to their point of maximum elasticity. Let it out slowly, warmed and chemically transmuted by its moments within the miraculous feat of evolutionary engineering I call “my” body. I begin, habitually, to translate the sense information received from the inhalation into words, to piece apart the smells (dead leaves, sweet earth, the marshy funk of riparian low tide rising on the breeze) from the experience of smell itself. Then I stop where I am, self-conscious, to put my hand to my heart and try...

Hello friends of Chicory! I know there's so much competition for your time at this point in the summer, but I'd love to put two events coming up the next two weekends before you! If you might enjoy either a wonderful romp in the woods learning about autumn(ish) mushrooms at a beautiful sculpture park AND/OR a neighborhood-wide monthly party at the Kingston Waterfront, this month featuring a pop-up at Chicory with the hands-down raddest mosquito protection your legs could ever want for--check these out! In gratitude, Chris

A chanterelle changed my life. I was walking in north country woods when I spotted it. And then, letting my eyes adjust to the possibility of seeing one, I spotted the rest of THEM. Irregular yellow forms trumpeting out of the dull leaf litter here and there, then up over a crest--everywhere. It was, I later learned, a fantastic season for chanterelles, much like the one we’re having now in the northeast, and much unlike the intervening years. It was, I've always felt, the bait on the end of the hook. If I'd known the frustration of waiting half the calendar year for mushroom season...