Of the mint family.
Storytelling. Good morning from sunny Vermont. When I was in grad school, Dr. Darlene Witte introduced our class to the art of hermeneutics, the theory of interpretation. I took to it like mad, as it was language-based and showed infinite possibilities. In Quill Point, Eva has to hand in a hermeneutics assignment regarding a native Vermont flower. Here’s what she writes:
“Monarda didyma, crimson bee balm, its flowers bright and clustered, its stem, green, tall and straight. Monarda from Monardes, a 16th century Spanish botanist, his name rolling off the tongue like a wooden wheel with a slight crack, monardamonardamondara, marching forward, its attitude unstoppable. Didyma from an Aegean island, weathered sturdy boats coming in with the tide to harvest honey flavored with the spray of salt. Native to the east and inland, zones four to nine, with good luck, zone three. With moist, rich soil, I’ve seen it make a hedge. In Victorian days, you’d hand a bouquet to your friend to show compassion. Attracter of bees and hummingbirds, beacon to all living things seeking fragrance. Of the family Lamiaceae, mint everywhere, the plants growing grander with every new summer. Do not be hasty around a large patch of bee balm lest you get stung, stung by bees darting in and out, their gigantic numbers demanding caution, and, of course, awe. No use mowing close. Tell your sister it’s her turn.”
I wonder if her entry will get read aloud in class? Check back next week for another segment of Finding Home, and oh, one more thing. Thank you Darlene.