A New Beginning

Confessions of the Heart

Nearly half an hour of meticulous foraging, the venture gave to you; five mud plumps, four startled ducks, three pardon-my-French blowouts, two bug bites, one false-alarm-bush-rustle scare, – and a wicker basket not even half full. You scout the ground, seeing but inedible wildflowers, a miscellany of insects, arachnids, and other animalcules, subsuming the green-headed, leeching monsterflies still hungry for your blood, hog-nosed snakes, toads, and the occasional duck, ensuing an inescapable hullabaloo of panicky flap-flaps and quack-quacks when alarmed by your presence.

It's too early in the year still. You need to go higher up in the terrain, where the sun has graced the earth with enough warmth for a wider variety of flora to thrive.

Yet you carry on with grit and persistence. At first crestfallen to be but a mere herb-picker, deflation was quickly replaced by appreciation. This is a safe and not at all bootless task in which you are skilled, devoid of strain to ensure physical recovery while still involving enough ample activity to prevent the bleak reappearance of somber musings.

There's an unremitting murmur in your arm at the site of impact, but you're not in direct pain. Not for the time being, at least. You put down the hamper with the sorry content to arch your back and roll your shoulders while gingerly massaging the soft tissue below the makeshift bandage. Grunts and groans turn to wails and whimpers as blood surges through aching muscles, tender and sore from strain, fatigue, and injury. Then you count your resources.

A handful burdock roots, a scanty bunt of bulrush, and five Alaskan ginseng. Great for tonics! For seasoning, not so much. The mere utter of the word, along with its culinary connotation, had sparked in you a zing of expectancy flaring through your hunger-struck tummy. Now, a contrary but equally penetrating feeling of deflation is creeping up your abdomen, invading your chest.

Nature provides, but she doesn't make it easy. Arthur is right about that.

Said feller is yet to return and the thought of returning to the cabin to sit idle and wait, alone and useless, evokes in you a vehement aversion that dwarfs the need for rest. So, to save you from the frustration of idleness and the inescapable and inevitable dark thoughts hereat, you solemnly and surreptitiously resolve to find herbs for seasoning before Arthur returns.

You follow a trail uphill, glancing behind you every so often as perturbation stirs in your chest. Though it's late afternoon, the sun is still an hour or so away from the horizon. It should be all right you reckon, as long as you stick close to the road.

Or, maybe not.

Affrighted by a fast-approaching trample of hooves, you spin around with a yelp.

"What the hell, woman!?"

Terror-white eyes of man and mount gape back at you concurrently as a panicky bray erupts the air. Some poor feller is nearly thrown off his rearing horse due to pulling the bridles in panic. Stupefied, you gawk with dumbfounded astonishment at the revolver in your white-knuckled hand, drawn by pure instinct.

"I'm terribly sorry mister," you say under your breath.

"Sorry, ma'am. Didn't mean'a scare ya."

He tips his hat and gone he is. You release a pent-up breath and holster the cattleman. As ridiculous as you feel, you are quick to impute your agitation on all that dreadful business up in Roanoke.

The advancement of spring is far more evident here, as is apparent from the lushness of verdure on woodland and undergrowth, the multitude of blooming flowers, and a forest teeming with wildlife, high and low. Amphibians, birds, leporids, rodents, and ungulates – and a field of vibrant colors! A proper gold mine, if herbs were gold. No, this is better than gold. Therewith poppies, ox-eye daisies, willowherbs, and other wildflowers native to the land are wild mint, violet snowdrop, thyme, carrot, and ram's head. You skip, bounce, and ramble about this treasure chest of nature's pantry, plucking, pinching, and reaping to your heart's content. If Arthur's hunting trip goes equally well, maybe you can make a stew tonight. A stew!