Today normality resumes. Or at least my version of it. Everything is unpacked and settled and a routine schedule will ensue. Yesterday was a federal holiday (Columbus day) so I used that as an excuse to sort of mosey back into my life. Today it is back to work on a regular schedule. I’m actually looking forward to the routine of it all. Speaking of routine, shall we jump into our routine morning prompt? I think we should. So anyone who is joining me set those timers and let’s see what we come out with.
Interesting. I’m not entirely certain where it is going, but it is interesting.
October 11th: The flowers were just beginning to open.
The flowers were just beginning to open. Those in the shade still had their petals tightly furled against the coolness of the night but as the sun inched higher into the sky they opened, sunbathing their petals in its morning rays. From where I stood the effect seemed almost magical. I sat down on the grass and watched the effect. It was as though the sun brought a box of paint to the mountain side. Before opening the ground was dappled in different shades of green. As the sun progressed color flared in its wake.
By the time the sun made its path across the sky to sit in the bright blue bowl of sky, the world had changed and my limbs were stiff from sitting. While I could watch the sun rise higher in the sky, once the morning rising was done, there were no more flowers opening. Later as the heat got to them the petals would close and the sun would steal their colors as it progressed over the mountain top and onto the other side, casting this side of the mountain back in shadow.
Once the color started to fade from the fields and pockets of growth along the mountain, I knew it would be time for me to head back to the cabin. I did not want to be stuck out here in full dark. When the first of the petals folded, I too would be heading away from this ridge.
‘Which means I need to get a move on,’ I reminded myself. I stood and stretched. Even though watching the morning display took time from my rather limited schedule I couldn’t bring myself to regret it. It was one of the few little pleasures I kept with me. As most of the other pleasures fled, I held more tightly to this one and was reluctant to sacrifice it, even when I knew time was short.
I turned towards the ridge I wanted and began the slow climb up. Unlike the flowers that dotted the mountain side, splashing color in daubs and swoops, the plant I was seeking was green. The leaves were various shades of green, three to be precise, all blended together in subtle dapples of color. There were flowers on these plants as well but the miniscule flowers, smaller than my pinkie nail, were likewise a shade of green. They were celadon at their deepest and faded as the blossom grew so they were the palest touch of green at the outer edges. The pale green could almost be mistaken for white unless it was placed next to an actual white blossom and then the green color was clear.
It was a quiet unassuming plant with quiet unassuming flowers. However it was worth more than any other plant that grew on the mountain side. The leaves could be brewed for a variety of stomach ailments. The tiny flowers themselves could be crushed and mixed with water to form a paste that would cure infection. The stems could be crushed and the sap rubbed on the skin to cure most skin irritations. And the roots could be either boiled down to aid in the healing of intestinal ailments or turned into a poultice to help wounds heal quickly and cleanly.
Ten til Midnight 