Picking Mushrooms With Papa In Woodinville In the moment, it was what you do. Looking back, it must’ve been strange for him to have been a woodsman by trade, with all the customary garb, transplanted into a near-suburban area. Suspenders could hold him there, a hickory shirt, neon pink flagging. Trees have a way of taking you in. You cannot walk into a house not long yours and expect welcome. Not necessarily. Trees, though, are not new; they have no...
