A Flower, a Walk, and a Story from the Past

Earlier this evening, I took a short walk with my wife and baby. On our way home, I spotted the little purple flower pictured at the top of this post and snapped a photo. Once inside, I did some quick research. I couldn’t pin down the exact species, but I soon learned it was a type of hedgenettle. A little more digging revealed that plants like this were often used throughout Europe and other parts of the world.

Specifically, I discovered that the Anglo-Saxons once used hedgenettle to treat a wide variety of ailments. That got me wondering—what kind of person might have picked a plant like this centuries ago? While I’m no historian, I decided to imagine it for myself. Here’s the short piece that came out of that thought:

Alban walked slowly down his secret verdant path and allowed the cool evening air to fill his lungs. Tall, sturdy trees towered all around him, blocking out what was left of the setting sunlight. He always loved his evening walks, but this time of year was special. From the onset of spring to the end of summer, he had walked this path thousands of times. Now that fall had arrived, he decided to walk it one last time, collecting everything he thought might be of use.

The forest path was more than a pleasant pastime for Alban—it was his life. He spent hours there each day gathering the most important plants for his master back in the village. Most people would say that fall hadn’t quite arrived yet, but Alban knew the season well—the drop in temperature, the scent of changing leaves, the plants preparing to go dormant for the winter. It was still early, yes, but fall was coming all the same.

Turning a bend, he cocked his head at a peculiar sight. There, just to the side of a patch of grass, he spotted several small light-purple flowers blooming. Kneeling to get a closer look, he smiled. Wood betony—otherwise known to the local townspeople as woundwort.

It was rather late in the season to come across such a healthy plant. At this time of year, most of the others would have died off already, much less still had their petals showing. If he took it back home, it would surely fetch a fair price. In his master’s line of work, wood betony was considered one of the most versatile medicines available. It could heal skin maladies, soothe stomachaches, and even make a calming herbal tea.

Ever so gently, Alban grabbed the plant at its base and tugged lightly. It started to pull free from the ground, but then he paused and looked around. Green. Green and brown in every direction. He frowned, then released the betony. As nice as the extra cash would be, he decided to leave it and stood back up.

Looking down, he smiled once more. That little dot of purple seemed to shine in the forest gloom. To take it now didn’t feel right. He knew his master would be cross if he found out a plant such as this had been left behind—but his master didn’t need to know. Besides, part of good plant gathering was knowing when the right time to pick was.

Alban didn’t know exactly why it wasn’t time to pick this one, but that didn’t matter. He’d always had a sense for these things and left it where it grew. Picking up his basket, he turned down the path and whistled a happy tune as he walked.