We went down to the creek looking for meadowsweet and white willow.
There were tinctures to make for our medicine chest.
We found neither, yet somehow much more than we were seeking.
We found the comfort of our feet moving upon the earth and the wind playing in our hair.
We noticed how the land changes, subtly, in each micro-season-within-a-season, as summer unravels into fall.
We held hands and talked about plants and August and memories.
We shared stories and silence, laughter and smiles.
We sat by the creek watching frogs, dipping our toes, smelling the forest.
An owl hooted. Insects drift in the late summer sun. Leaves danced and swirled in the wind.
The creek sang.
We picked a few sprigs on the way home. Peppermint for tea, goldenrod for dye, blue vervain for medicine, and wild sunflowers for beauty.
Meadowsweet and white willow, however, were not to be found. They would not find their way into medicine this year.
But medicine was abundant just the same.
Plant medicine, soul medicine.
Love, connection, beauty and peace.
I'll happily take this sort of medicine over more tinctures any day.