The day was cloudy but warm as she stepped out, the familiarity of the garden calmed her, no hemlock here, all, parsley n dill. A nice stroll she thought, yep Ill pick me some greens. Handily a basket, complete with scissors in it was sitting, on the deck. Chickweeds looking happy she smiled. Clary’s garden was one where weeds were encouraged, being full of wild food goodness, they had beds to themselves to flourish merrily without fear of pulling or pesticides. She crouched down and began to snip, the rhythm soothing her, as she cut nettle, lettuce leaves, baby silverbeet, dandelion tips and parsley. Fresh salad greens ready and I’m going to go visit the neighbours, find out some more about you n your surprises Clary....
The folks next door, some way in these parts, were a young family with that glow that slightly bemused Sam, being beyond her range of experiences. Friendly, simply living their lives. Clary spoke of them kindly and mutual visitations for the odd cuppa had kept them in neighbourly touch...
“We haven’t heard from her since she went to visit her friend. That was almost 2 months ago, she left raging against regulations and destroying traditions, like she was fired up for another book, or a court case. You know how she was, some big wigs shut Edna down cos she was teaching people how to use the medicines that Clary helped to make. Misinformation or something, trained chemist should know better than to meddle with herbs.
“Can we do anything for you?”
“No, that’s ok, I think I just need time. Time, and some contact details, you wouldn’t have Edna’s number?”
“Let me have a look, I’ll ask Fred if he knows anything else and if he does I’ll let you know straight up. At least you’re here, and that’s something, you can keep the place ticking over. She must have got real fired up this time, she always was one for a mission.”
Sam wandered bleary eyed and in a state of shock back to the house, the old place was her headquarters, as the garden and the vines encroached. She didn’t know where or what to do, but collapsed on the sofa and slept. No nightmares, no visions, just sleep for a weary traveler.....
The date on the discarded parcel wrapping was 2 months ago....
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When Sam awoke at least she felt rested, but as her eyes scanned the house she saw it in a new light. This was Clary’s life’s work scattered around her now, piles and lack of filing and all, it was an act of devotion from a woman who adored things green and growing. What was she meant to do now? Why had no one called her? Who was there? Clary hadn’t been a blood relation but she was a friend of the family going way back. There was no landline here, and Sam had happily left her mobile back at her flat.
She unconsciously sat and fiddled with the leather pouch, soft and warm. Her hand delved in and shuffled away, she pulled another card. A woman, a green woman, with nettles in her hair and bushflowers all around her. A blend of the two realms. Thank goddess she sighed, no ominous forces here, natures soft side. Not despite, but because of her sting though, nettle taught awareness. Green awareness. The card eased her but also brought tears.
Through the eons shamans voyaged to discover from the plants themselves, in a less Linnaeus based format, what medicines they carried. Passed down what they learnt orally, sometimes only to apprentices. Is that what I was for you Clary? An apprentice? Did you expect me to translate all these piles as only you could? I don’t know enough, I barely know a handful of plants and I’m no shaman, although my fishy friend imposed some faith in me. Her dream flooded back, how could anyone expect her to save the ol ways from anybody, when she didn’t have them in her comprehension? This was Clary’s work, I’m just a sometime gardener and artist. What of Clary’s affairs, she thought as she looked towards the door and noticed a bunch of semidried plant matter bound to the architrave.
Getting up somewhat nervously she picked it up and saw the speckled stems. She turned and began to see the space as it truly was, a frenzy of activity had gone on here, a driven focus with an emphasis on finishing and ‘organising’ research. Hemlock was bound protectively in other places too.... above the kitchen window, on the bookshelves. This was Clary’s legacy, but where was she herself?
Sam made her way into the study and there on the desk was the closest thing to organisation she’d seen, apart from the medicines. A document on beautiful sepia paper, “A Post Apocalyptic Herbal”. Not in the scribble of the parcels note but a calligraphy like lettering designed with intention. She turned the page, apocalypse, jesus I thought I was getting away from that....
"The Green Woman" is a taster of a herbal tale. If you enjoy this portion you can read more at http://opalplantways.blogspot.com/
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