Thursday, October 13, 2022

plant medicine 1

Every new life brought in draws attention. 

The purpling rosemary requires nursing, calm, a shadow to recover in. I wash dirt and mould from its boughs and branches. I disinfect cuts, clear webs and egg sacs, pluck, caress, water gently. Overnight I see the maroon needles lifting at their roots to green.  This is the work of hours, of love and shadows.

I don't know if the maple will survive the winter. I've trimmed and transplanted it into clay, added better soil, cooed over a single new shoot.  I've read maple messages from Murcia and California. These have made me optimistic. I am going to ensure this tiny acer,  bald and twiggy, has her chance to thrive.

Roots of scalded pohutukawa seek the surface after too many small waterings. Anxiety does grow, you know, and here a tree has caught my nerve and swerved upward to accept it. Now the work of mulch and stones! The need to leave the tree alone!

The mint on the terrace is a wayward child, dropping leaves like stolen buns, preferring the independence of clear water to damp soil. I lesson it as it lessons me. We each prepare to let the other go.  Yet I know mint would love it here if we gave each other a chance.