Plants Before People
Farrow was bent over her table, a tiny working space cleared in the middle of an array of jars and tins all bursting with herbs and plants, dried and fresh. She was working a few ingredients together for a batch of rosehip tea, made with a handful of rose hips she had brought with her from her mother's garden. It had been a while since she had moved and she was feeling a bit lonely and homesick, as ironic as it might be, and she has woken with a craving for it.
She had left the door open, allowing a bit of the cold breeze to make its way in, and between the banked fire and her work, the house maintained a pleasing temperature.
She had left the door open, allowing a bit of the cold breeze to make its way in, and between the banked fire and her work, the house maintained a pleasing temperature.
F A R R O W
