I felt like Dana Scully debunking werewolf legends in a cold, dark forest. But it was a sunny day in Walla Walla, Washington when I walked by a store claiming it wasn’t a pot shop. (In Washington that’s always a possibility with anything decorated a medical shade of green.) Curious, I made a right turn and found myself in a particular kind of forest. One filled with crystals and bracelets and water bottles and flip-flops. The place smelled of lavender and pine and the two store reps (a man and wife duo) pounced as soon as my wife and I entered.