This time of year has me wanting for little adventures. Dreary days spent cooped up writing in my apartment have me itching to be out in the woods instead. I’d happily withstand a few raindrops on a woodsy romp. This time of year, I’d hunt for old concord grape vines and the last of fall’s mushrooms. Armed with a little pocket knife and a snack, I’d bring a basket to carry back my spoils–you know the sort–branches and brambles and other countrified things.