#agrimonia

[greencheekconure27]

[intoabsentia]

𝕬𝖌𝖗𝖎𝖒𝖔𝖓𝖎𝖆 𝖉𝖊𝖒𝖔

[hilumbarren]

Agrimonia genus

(Agrimony)

(Image by W.A. Delamotte from William Baxter's British Phaenogamous Botany, 1834)

History and Etymology: This genus of flowers has many recorded uses, however not much is known of it's history. The word "agrimony" is nearly the same in its derived Greek, and no one know why this flower was named as such. Flower Symbolism: Agrimony has a very simple meaning. It stands for thankfulness and gratitude.

Fun Facts:

Agrimonia has 12-15 different species within the genus, and are mostly separated due to the location in which they grow.

Agrimony has a larger variety of medical uses than a lot of other flowers. It has been used for eye issues, used as a way to heal wounds, etc etc.

A stalk of this flower can typically reach around 6 feet high, although the petals at the top usually cause it to droop.

Sources Below

Image: British Phaenogamous Botany History and Etymology: Agrimonia Wikipedia, Etymonline Symbolism: Dale Harvey Meaning of Flowers index Fun Facts: Agrimonia Wikipedia, Agrimonia Britannica

[crudlynaturephotos]

[moriwood]

Flower Puff Boy — p.js

park jongseong x male reader fluff with very lil angst 2.3k words

Over the past year, people have come to know you as the guy who always gives flowers. You’ve used every occasion as an excuse to purchase flowers from Jay, your neighborhood florist, and each time you walked in, you always ended up with a free flower from him. As Valentine’s Day nears, you realize what flowers truly mean to him and you.

includes: flower language! (might be wrong, i’m not good with flowers myself); a call back to my other xo era-inspired fic (pls read it too if u haven’t yet :’3) warning: n/a

You were never well-versed in the language of flowers. No special fascination, no favorite blooms nor scents growing up. But over the past year, you have come to be known as the guy who gives flowers. For friends who started new jobs, relatives who celebrated their birthdays, and even your coworker who merely complained about the blandness of her beige desk, flowers had become your go-to gift.

You first stepped into Flower Puffs on a whim, a small shop tucked into a side road with little traffic. Despite its humble appearance, its color always stood out against the dull low-rise apartments beside it. The chalkboard outside boasted seasonal arrangements and flower meanings scribbled in neat, cursive letters. It started simple: a gift for your mother on Mother’s Day.

—

Behind the counter, a young man arranges a bouquet. His sleeves were rolled up, and the veins along his arms were like vines growing on a trellis. He glances up at the sound of the bell jingling above the door. His eyes lock onto yours, lips stretching into a smile as charming as the flowers that surrounded him.

“Hey there. Mother’s Day?”

You hesitate by the entrance. His directness catches you off guard, though it makes sense—most of his clients for the day were probably here for the same reason.

“Yeah,” you nod.

“Good call,” he replies, his smile reaching to his eyes. He wipes his hands on his apron and steps around the counter. “Something classic or something unique?”

You shift on your feet, glancing at the rows of flowers neatly arranged on wooden displays. “Uh… I don’t really know flowers.”

He chuckles softly, approaching the nearest display to you. “Well, that’s what I’m here for.”

He hums as he gestures at his different floral arrangements, voice filled to the brim with enthusiasm. It’s quite captivating—the way he spoke about flowers—detailing their scientific properties, from colors to scents, then unraveling the messages they somehow conveyed without words.

He picks up some delicate stems, their green, fuzzy leaves adorned with tiny yellow flowers that spiral upward along its length. Oddly, they remind you of the herbs you use to season food. “Agrimonias mean gratitude and protection. Old legends say that if you sleep with agrimonias under your pillow, they ward off evil.”

He then picks up another few bright yellow flowers, bigger than but as slender as the agrimonias. “These hawksbeards here mean something similar—protection and contentment.”

“And some Peruvian lilies,” he says, picking up some flowers in a darker shade of yellow, with lines of purple decorating its petals. “They mean a lot of things: wealth, fortune, and devotion. If it’s for your mom, you probably want the most for her, right?”

You nod. There’s a strange intimacy in the interaction, listening to someone speak about something they’re clearly passionate about in such a quiet environment. You reach out to take the bouquet he’s begun assembling, and for a split second, your fingers brush. 

He doesn’t pull away immediately. Instead, his eyes flicker to your face in amusement then he steps back with a grin. He plucks a white flower from one of the nearby displays and twirls it between his fingers.

“Here,” he says, holding it out to you. “A calla lily. Consider it a welcome gift.”

“What does it mean?”

“Magnificent beauty,” he replies smoothly, “like you.”

You freeze, caught between surprise and amusement. The confidence in his delivery makes you think that this is a regular schtick he does with his customers; however, for a beat too long, you consider if he could be as genuine as the flowers that he sells. 

A laugh bubbles up in your throat as you notice the board on the counter that reads Flower Puffs in colorful chalk.

“Well, thank you… Flower Puff Boy,” you finally reply.

“I don’t know if I like the sound of that,” he cackles, slapping a hand over his eyes. “But Jay would probably be better,” he corrects. “And you?”

—

It all began there, and you kept on coming back. Every occasion has become a perfect time to come visit Jay’s shop.

And each time, he gives you a flower. Even on days where you decide not to purchase anything and just pass the time at his shop, you always leave with a single flower in your hand. You keep them all, pressed in between pages of your books, tucked into vases by your windowsill, like tokens of each visit. In your mind, you’ve authored a tiny dictionary of all their meanings.

Wood sorrels for joy, when a childhood friend came to visit you in the city.

Mayflowers for perseverance, when your boss just recovered from a major surgery.

Lemon geraniums for unexpected meetings, when you welcomed a new guy in the workplace.

Then he gave you a lily of the valley for the return of happiness, because he hadn’t expected you to come back so soon.

Then milkvetches, because, as he put it, your presence softened his pains—something he didn’t explain further.

Then French marigolds for jealousy, after you mentioned to him how attractive the new guy at work was.

He didn’t seem to lie about what his flowers meant, yet you never took the time to question if the flowers really meant anything to him—to you. After all, he’s just a merchant, and you’re just a customer. Assuming otherwise would be foolish, especially when, after nearly a year of frequenting his shop, you knew nothing much other than his name and his line of work.

What do you do outside the shop? What else do you like other than flowers?

Were those even questions you could ask?

And yet, you still return. Not exactly for him, but for the giddy feeling you get when you learn something new about a flower—or so you tell yourself.

The bell rings as you step inside, and as always, the familiar florist stands behind the counter, carefully arranging a bouquet. He’s leaning over the counter, speaking with a customer—a guy around your age, donning an oversized sweater and smiling brightly. Jay notices you, glancing at you, but his attention is swiftly drawn back to the man he was talking to.

You really didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but the shop is too small not to overhear everything. Turning to the wooden displays, you pretend to browse through the flowers, testing yourself on the meanings you’ve learned.

“With a love letter and everything,” the guy says.

Jay chuckles. “Sounds… romantic… Who’s the lucky guy?”

Mustards. Greenish-yellow, as in the plant with the seeds that are used to make the condiment with the same name. It meant indifference, Jay said, when you wanted to buy something for a leaving coworker who you really didn’t care about.

“No idea. The flowers had me thinking they got it from you.”

Jay hums. “Sunoo got one. Then I think Heeseung?”

Cobaeas. Large, bell-shaped, and violet. Gossip, like you tuning in more to their conversation. Who are these people that they’re mentioning?

“Heeseung?” the guy repeats.

“Said he’s getting ‘em to cheer someone up. Maybe it’s him?”

The guy laughs. “I don’t think he swings my way. If it’s Sunoo or Heeseung, then this person probably bought it elsewhere.”

Goldenrods. So small, Jay just uses them to fill up his flower arrangements. He said they could mean precaution, but for what exactly?

“I hope you find out soon, or maybe not. Then I’ll make you a better bouquet. No secret messages though, just a delicate arrangement of flowers from your favorite florist.”

French marigolds. Jealousy. Huh.

You turn back to the couple by the counter, finding the guy chuckling and shaking his head. “I’ll take that offer when the mystery turns exhausting. But I’m pretty invested right now.”

Jay smiles at him, all easygoing and warm as usual. “Let me know how it turns out then.”

The guy waves goodbye, taking one last look at the bouquet in his hands before heading out. Jay then exhales, fingers tapping against the wood. He notices you again, now with his full attention, and grins.

“What’re you doing over there? Come tell me your excuse for visiting today. Don’t tell me it’s Lunar New Year.”

You force a chuckle, stepping closer. “Birthday of a friend. Was just testing if I remember the botanical stuff you’ve taught me.”

Jay tilts his head. He points to some oxeye daisies, petals white with a yellow center. “What do those mean?”

“Patience. Purity. The he-loves-me-he-loves-me-not flower.”

“Correct,” he replies, picking one and twirling it between his fingers. “Is this friend you’re talking about a friend-friend or…”

“Or?”

“Friends with ulterior motives,” Jay laughs. “Friends from a different dimension.”

You shake your head, chuckling. “No. A real, very existing friend.”

Jay studies you for a moment, an embarrassing warmth creeping into your face. You might make every occasion an excuse to visit Jay, but you won’t stoop so low as to invent stories about imaginary people. 

“You have to stop giving out flowers on a whim like that, your friend might misinterpret,” he says.

You hesitate briefly, then you roll your eyes in realization. “I could say the same thing about you giving free flowers to all your customers.”

Jay furrows his brows. “I don’t?”

“Huh?”

A beat passes.

“I don’t give free flowers to all my customers,” Jay repeats.

“Just me then?”

If not all customers, then maybe just the ones who buy a lot. That makes sense. Definitely not just you, don’t be delusional.

“Just you, yeah.”

“Oh.”

The guy from earlier left with his bouquet and nothing else. Another beat passes. Then Jay claps his hands together.

“So! A birthday bouquet. Got flowers in mind or you want my floral magic again?”

You blankly nod, mind still reeling from what Jay has just told you. “You do your magic, I’ll watch.”

Jay begins to work, slow as he selects the first few flowers, then fingers moving more efficiently as the flower arrangement grows into something more colorful and “meaningful.” You shift your weight from foot to foot as you watch him, letting the faint snip of scissors and rustling of wrapping paper fill in the silence.

After a moment, you find yourself asking: “Do you really believe in it?”

Jay glances up, pausing from cutting a length of pink ribbon. “In what?”

“Flowers and their meanings,” you clarify.

“Well, they mean something if you want them to,” he replies, before resuming what he was doing with the ribbon, gently tying it around the bouquet. “I mean,” Jay hesitates. “Flowers are just like any other gift or gesture. They only matter as much as you let them.”

He pushes the finished bouquet towards you, giving you a warm smile. “Or maybe you just like giving beautiful people something beautiful, and that’s as valid as any other reason,” he adds. “I’ve never been good with words anyway, so I’d appreciate flowers even if they really meant nothing other than pretty, colorful things.”

You nod, smiling back in understanding. Then the words tumble out before you can think too hard about them, a joke too sincere, a humorous statement that’s been stripped of its humor. Because you’re just that good with words unlike this Flower Puff Boy.

“Would it be fraternization with the enemy if I brought you flowers for Valentine’s?”

Jay stills, a flicker of surprise crossing his face. Then he catches on. “I guess I’ll give you white catchflies then. Betrayal!”

“I don’t know,” you sigh, prodding at the bouquet on the counter. “Have to check out the competition.”

Jay gasps dramatically, placing a hand over his chest. “After all the free flowers!?”

Your lips twitch. “Wasn’t exactly a fan of such a manipulative business tactic,” you joke.

He clicks his tongue in mock offence. “Guess I’ll have to stop the freebies then.”

The playful banter comes easily, but your heart stutters, thumping in your chest and wavering your voice in the process. For almost a year, you thought that Jay’s easy charm was just part of customer service. Maybe it was, but now, it definitely doesn’t feel like it.

“Valentine’s, huh?” Jay grins. “Receiving flowers on that day instead of selling them would be a change.”

You glance at the long-forgotten bouquet for your friend, your fingers idly brushing over the brown paper wrapped around the flowers.

“Actually,” you start, voice a little quieter, “could you make another bouquet for me? To pick up on a different day? Forgot something.”

Jay lifts an eyebrow. “Oh? What occasion?”

You smile, keeping it light. “Secret.”

Jay playfully narrows his eyes. “Am I gonna be jealous of another ‘friend’ of yours?”

“Should you?” you laugh, making Jay grumble in fake frustration. “I’ve got specific flowers in mind.”

“Okay, tell me what flowers you want,” he sighs. “I’ll prepare them by the date you need them.”

White chrysanthemums. Moss rosebuds. Peach blossoms. And lastly, yellow jonquils.

“Do you know what these flowers mean?” Jay slowly asks, as if he’s still processing the list of flowers you just gave him.

You nod, heat once again rushing to your face. “Do you?”

Jay shrugs, a small smile tugging at his lips. “We might have different dictionaries. Spell it out for me, please?”

You take a moment, the words spilling as if it came from a script, though your voice shakes. “I’m not lying when I say that this is a confession. You have captivated me and I desire a return of this affection.”

“That’s quite a specific message,” Jay replies, exhaling. “Who’s it for then?”

You meet his gaze, feeling the weight of what this scene means. “You.”

Jay shakes his head, but you see the fondness in his expression. “You’re ridiculous,” he mutters. “When will you be picking it up?”

“On Valentine’s, of course.”

He laughs. “I’m a florist. Wait for my reply in flowers by then.”

A sense of ease washes over you. “I’ll see you by then, Flower Puff Boy.”

Jay watches you with a smile as you turn toward the door, the familiar chime ringing once again.

For the first time, you leave the shop with no free flower to take home. And for the first time, you’re comfortable admitting that it wasn’t just the flowers that you were always looking forward to.

author's note: it’s over 2 weeks too late for valentine’s but hey i made it! would y’all believe me if i said i broke my arm a few months ago and it stalled everything for a while 😭 i hav a lot of drafts ongoing so let’s hope i don’t disappear for another few months ADF:gpzicvbpzpvo sorry for always slacking y'allllls

references: Flower language taken from the 1867 book “The illustrated language of flowers” by Mrs. L. Burke: https://archive.org/details/illustratedlang00burka

— moriwood.

[fishbphotography]

Agrimonia

Tsuruoka, Yamagata, Japan

[landfilloftrash]

My partner is avidly requesting the flower language meanings in the valentines' post (some of them aren't quite visible, but they are There) so I'm just gonna put it up here bc fuck it; you all get to know. Hope you all had a lovely Valentine's! Btw; The meanings I'm using are specifically from my book of flowers language, so if some don't show up in a google search, that is why. Agrimonia eupatoria (Agrimonia) - Gratitude/Thankfulness (it was said that to be able to offer protection against evil, poison, as well as banish negative energies and negative spirits) Anemone (Garden Anemone) - Abiding love, Anticipation, Sincerity, Healing, Love, Every Gardener's Pride (specifically in reference to how the God this campaign is also referred to as the Gardener) Aster amellus (Michaelmas Daisy) - Elegance, Faith, Hope, Light, Like a star, Power, I partake your sentiments, Symbol/Talisman of Love Myosotis (Forget-Me-Not) - Clinging to the past, memories, faithful love, forget me not Onobrychis (Saintfoin) - Agitation, Trust in God (gods & God in this case) Ononis (Restharrows) - Obstacles (a believed power was that it prevented spells)

Verbena officinalis (Common Verbena) - Cooperativeness, Enchantment, Hope in darkness, Peace, Pray for me, Rest, Safety, Security, You enchant me [specifically associated with Scarlet variation]; Church unity, Unite against evil

[konjaku]

金水引[Kinmizuhiki] Agrimonia pilosa var. japonica

金[Kin] : Gold

水引[Mizuhiki] : Decorative paper cord; Persicaria filiformis

It grows in fields and forest margins.

Although the grass height is generally just under one meter, those in suitable habitats are often taller than that. It spreads the leaves resemble those of strawberries at the bottom. The stalks are branched, and it produces many five-petaled yellow flowers, less than one centimeter in diameter, at the upper part of the stalks.

The long stalks and flowers are likened to Mizuhiki, hence the name. https://bunka.nii.ac.jp/heritages/detail/37211

The entire grass has medicinal properties and was used in the past as a bowel preparation.

[prvtocol]

Character Symbolism :: Flowers ᠂ ⚘ ˚

pick  a  bouquet  relevant  to  your  character  ;  you  may  use  this  list  for  inspiration  !

Acacia :: Chaste love

Yellow Acacia :: Secret Love

Agrimonia :: Thankfulness, Gratitude

Balm :: Sympathy

Birch :: Elegance, Meekness

Calla Lily :: Modesty

Horse chestnut :: Luxury

Yellow Poppy :: Wealth, Success

Mullein :: Good-nature

Wisteria :: Welcoming

Xeranthemum :: Cheerfulness under adversity

tagged by: @putrefacerem (tysm!) tagging: @nightbrcther ; @alootus ; @mahmur ; @forceguided ; & pls feel to snag + tag ♡

[fawnysblog]

A-Z Witchcraft herbs and plants: Agrimony

There are many herbs and plants used in witchcraft, all with a variety of different uses and meanings. This A-Z is a short rundown or some plants and herbs used in the craft. Today we’re looking at Agrimony.

Quick facts,

Agrimony is found around Europe and South America, Agrimony is the common name for the species of Agrimonia.

You can get Agrimony normally or alternatively in dried or liquid forms, such as essential oils.

You can keep Agrimony in your garden.

Uses in witchcraft,

Agrimony is a plant for protection

You can use Agrimony to break hexes, jinxes ext. or use it to return such things.

It’s described as being best used against slander and gossip.

You can also use Agrimony to help with sleep. It’s commonly used by people with anxiety or people struggling from nightmares.

correspondences,

jupiter

air

if you have any facts or spells related to this, leave a comment 🖤🌿.

[lunarvampz]

In Bloom (Arthur Morgan x Reader)

Stars indicate a pov swap***

also posted on ao3 :)

Chapter 6 Agrimonia

She stared at you enticingly from the water, hair slicked with moisture, body submerged. You looked down at yourself to find you were stripped of clothes, standing in the shallows of the lake, but you didn’t feel awkward.

“Arthur~”, She sang, stepping forward. Her shoulders emerged from the blueness, and that was when you realised she wasn’t clothed either, or at least from what you saw of her.

Something tugged in your chest, pulling you to her. The water gave way, letting you approach her as she swam closer to you. It took a few seconds for the two of you to get close enough when she stood in the waist-height water and smiled sweetly, tilting her head. 

Your eyes shifted from her face to her body, devouring every inch of skin that she allowed you to see, and it sent a warm pooling sensation to your lower abdomen. Her chest heaved in anticipation, droplets trailing and racing each other back to the water, and she placed one hand to yours, nails gently scratching your tanned skin.

“Do you promise to save me?”

“I promise.”

Her skin pressed against yours, and her hands found their way to your hair, drawing your face to hers. Her gaze was burning voraciously, making you hotter than the water was. She flickered from your eyes to your lips then back to your eyes, her lips parting slightly, she whispered.

“Thank you.”

There was a brief moment between the both of you where everything was still, breath hot against your lips and nothing but the sounds of rustling trees and flowing water filled the steamy air.

She leaned in, closed the gap and gently pressed her lips against yours, grip tightening on your locks. You groaned, aching for more, and clasped your hands on her waist. The familiar tingle of lust continued to surge through you, pulsing slightly. Your teeth caught her lower lip and you tugged gently, letting go briefly to find a place for them on her neck. 

Her head craned in response, soft mewls echoing in your ears as you licked and sucked at her skin. It wasn’t long before one of her hands loosened and slipped down between you, slowly grazing the thin line of hair that led to your…

——————————

You woke in a cold sweat, groggily rubbing your eyes. Hearing your heartbeat in your ears, you registered what had just happened and grunted annoyedly. Unbuckling your jeans, you sighed at the state of your drawers. You felt dirty, perverted, immoral even.

Sure, she was an attractive woman and you held some sort of feelings for her, but it was still wrong. Although, you can’t control dreams. The feeling of guilt overwhelmed you as you yanked off your clothes from yesterday, chucking them into a pile on the ground and separating the drawers for you to wash separately. You’d never hear the end of it if one of the women had to wash them. It happened to Bill once, years ago, and every so often he gets reminded of it, along with teasing, boisterous laughs from everyone.

No matter how much you didn’t want to think about it, it replayed in your mind for the entire morning, sending subtle tingles down south as you pictured her water-soaked self. It didn’t make much sense as to why she was pictured to be so unchaste in your dream since you had only known her to be sweet and sensitive. 

You couldn’t kid yourself anymore, she was something, something you wanted. The thought of her staying in that house was terrifying, no one deserves that especially not her.

Grabbing yourself some of Pearson’s stew, you sat at one of the tables and beckoned Miss Grimshaw to sit.

“Is this about your little lady friend? Don’t worry, I spoke to Dutch this mornin’ and I’m havin’ the girls organise her a spot in camp as we speak.” " she stated, somehow already knowing exactly what you were going to say.

“Thank you, but just one other thing.”, You leaned in and spoke quietly, explaining in greater detail why you were so adamant about letting her join the camp.

“I see.”, She paused, some essence of sympathy filling her face as she nodded. “Well, I’m sure everyone will be their usual welcoming selves.”, A small laugh escaped her lips at her joke. “As long as she’s useful to us, she’ll get along just fine. Now, good day, Mr Morgan.”, With that, she pushed herself up and walked off, you assumed to tend to her millions of other importances.

You had planned to go see her again tonight, to iron out the details. Nothing else, you just wanted to get her into a safe environment, that’s what mattered. But a tiny nag in the back of your head knew that she’d be living with you, riding with you, experiencing with you, which made your heart flutter slightly.

Regardless, as much as you so desperately wanted to go and get her now and waste no time, you know this had to be a quiet ordeal. And you had other matters to attend to today.

“Arthur! Come here a minute.”, Dutch yelled from his tent, signalling it was time for you to get to work, you could only imagine what he had come up with today.

Stopping in front of his tent, you leaned against the support beam, looking at Dutch conspiring with Hosea about something.

“Arthur, you know how we’ve been working our way into getting into the church circle?”, The look on his face was a mix of a smirk and delight. You nodded. Dutch continued.

“How’s about your friend, huh? Pastor’s daughter. She could be the key to our next move.”, Hosea silently agreed with him.

“And what's that?”, You questioned.

“We’re goin’ to rob the goddamn church!”, Dutch exclaimed with excitement, smiling gleefully. “Think about it, Son. We’re already buddy-buddy with the Pastor, but now, instead of going in and making a fuss, we can sneak in, thanks to your lady’s extensive knowledge of the building, take the hundreds of donations they got from the festival and get out with a fortune!”.

“It’s a bit more complicated than that, but you get the idea, Arthur.”, Hosea added.

“Right, and so we’re going to throw her straight into a robbery in her very first few days here. And she’s not my lady, she’s my friend.”, The last response from you brought a snicker from Dutch and a knowing look from Hosea which you chose to ignore before speaking again. “If you insist on her goin’, then don’t think I’m not.”

“Well, whatever you say. Now go into town, and take John with you. Scope out the place.”, Dutch ordered, to which you begrudgingly agreed.

Things hadn’t been the same since John had come back, there was a strange tension that pulled taught whenever the two of you had to go on scouts together, but you pushed it aside for the betterment of the gang. You still couldn’t believe he pulled that stunt on Abigail and poor Jack. Sweetest little kid anyone could meet.

John was sitting in his tent, whittling away at a piece of wood when you found him. Thoughts pushed aside, you told him about the job and he seemed about as thrilled as you did, but put his statuette and carving tool down and got to his feet quickly. You watched him scrounge his things together and you exited the tent, speaking in a bored tone.

“Mount up, I don’t want this takin’ longer than it needs to be.”

✩★✩

Your mother had attempted to wake you up this morning, but you shook her off and continued to sleep until one in the afternoon. That was a few hours ago now, and you had spent the last few hours organising your things into crates and boxes and stashing them under your bed. You couldn’t take everything with you so you compiled a list of the most important items.

Clothes, shoes, jewellery box, journal, a few of your favourite books, your floriculture books and study items, perfumes, trinkets, a few personal items and your purse that held any money you had.

The rest of the belongings you carried in your satchel remained hanging from your door. You glanced at the clock for the tenth time this hour. 5:26 pm. Time seemed to pass a lot slower when you were sitting, staring at the floor and you hated it, you just wanted out.

Tick. The more you sat, the more you thought, and the more you thought, the more it was about him. Not just about leaving, but him . Images of his face, the way he held you. Tick. It all whipped you around like a hurricane, and every second you had to remind yourself about who he was and still is. Tick. Tick. Tick.

It was frightening, petrifying… Fascinating, exhilarating, downright salacious. Something dark stirred in you and you laid back on the duvet, mind racing and heart pacing, thinking. You imagined him shirtless in the lake with you, holding you tightly, and looking at you the same way he did last night.

Your hips circled on the bed instinctively, closing your eyes and turning onto your stomach. He seemed like the burly, authoritarian type, similar to the other men allowed in your life, but when it came to you, he was nothing like that. Gentle, understanding. The way he handled you seemed to come unnaturally, strained, like he was genuinely trying his hardest to be tender, and it was attractive.

Mindless daydreams filled a once distracted head while you rocked against your duvet, caught up in the thought of him. After a moment, you realised the footsteps encroaching upon your door and you sat up quickly, reorganising yourself just before the handle turned.

“We’re going to count all the donations after your father finishes his preparations for tomorrow morning’s service. I expect you polished in 20 minutes.”, Your mother looked around your room as she spoke, shrugging off the obvious lack of decor and turned around, strolling back down the hallway.

You groaned, sluggishly pulling yourself back up and picking up your things, fixing yourself up before grabbing your satchel and shoes.

——————————

“Hold these.”, She dumped two heavy crates into your arms, filled with coin jars, the sudden weight almost caused you to collapse. She ushered you away into your crawlspace of an office, dropping more crates on top of each other.

A loud bang filled the room when you let go of the crates. Already in a sour mood, you plopped into your chair and got to work. 

As you poured the coins piled onto your desk, the familiar sound of church change rang in your ears. Painstakingly, you sorted the different coins and counted and recorded the numbers. Over, and over, and over.

The mundaneness seeped into your eyes and ears, tiring you out.

By the time you had sorted through at least a dozen coin jars, you finished by adding the numbers, slipping them into a folder and sighing. Finally. Your limbs popped and creaked when you finally stood again, stiff and brittle from the hunch that formed after only thirty minutes of sorting.

“I really need to get out of here..”, Your whispering voice sighed, sound dampened by books.

——————————

You arrived home later that night, sore and anticipating the events to come. Carefully stacking the boxes in a neat pile, a nasty cloud of thought overshadowed your excitement. They aren’t coming. A sharp pang in your chest vibrated throughout your body, instantly weakening it and starting an irrational train of thought.

No. Stop it. It wasn’t helpful to anyone if you were unprepared to get out, so despite the cynical prison your mind held you in, you resumed—9:09 pm.  

Considering that everyone was exhausted during the trip home, you had grounds to believe that almost nothing could awaken the sleeping beasts. Your mother had fallen asleep on your father's shoulder and it strangely warmed your heart, a way like how someone prefers to warm a dinner roll before consumption.

Moving the last box, you turned and looked around, reminiscing on the few fond memories you created in that room. It saddened you to let go, you’d bite and scratch to have it another way and you’d claw into and rip apart this life if you could.

Tough luck, you had supposed.

It wasn’t long before the tapping started, only this time you had rushed to the window with a giant grin of excitement. You swung the window open and leaned out to wave at the familiar cowboy, and he looked back at you, doing a little wave himself.

“You all ready?”, Arthur spoke softly. You nodded and slinked back into your room, contemplating how to get the boxes downstairs. Maybe try to carry them all at once? No, you’d fall down the stairs from the weight. Throw them out of the window and pray that nothing breaks? Wrap them up and drag the sack?

“Here to help, Miss”, In your doorway stood a tall, large frame. How the hell? Arthur stepped into your dimly lit room and without hesitation, picked up the majority of the boxes, leaving only two smaller ones which coincidently held your more personal belongings.

“Thank you for this…”, You couldn’t put words to how you were feeling, kindness was foreign to you and this kind of act from someone like him, of all people, gave you that glimmer of hope you’d been reaching for. “This means more than you’d believe.”

He smiled before slipping back out, leaving you alone with your thoughts again. It was better if you didn’t stick around for too long, as you were certain one of the guards would catch onto what was happening.

Looking around for any other important things, your eyes landed on your bed and you almost laughed at your carelessness. There, nestled between your pillows was Whisper, your stuffed bunny. It was a gift from a birthday, many years ago, that held all of your thoughts and feelings. You remembered whispering to it every night about all the things you had done that day, regardless if you were sad or happy, and how it was your only friend for a long time. It had been a while since you shared a thought, though.

Bunny in hand, you focused on its button eyes and stroked its ears, “I’m scared. I’m scared I’ll never truly be able to get away, that this part of my life will haunt me forever. I pray these people will be forgiving.”

You picked up the rest of your belongings and sighed, this was it. For once in your life you had listened to an insane dream and let go of the reigns that restricted you, freeing yourself.

[greencheekconure27]

[heather-rajendran]

Common agrimony (Agrimonia eupatoria) wildflower photos I took recently, York, North Yorkshire, UK

[voxiiferous]

💐 Lucifer (@sinnerzforsaintz because Vox gotta get them points lol)

@sinnerzforsaintz | Send "💐" and my muse will make yours a bouquet

Venus' looking-glass | flattery

Agrimonia | thankfulness, gratitude

Ailanthus, also known as the tree of heaven | lofty inspirations

Amaryllis | Pride, timidity, splendid beauty; hope and achievement.

Sticky catchfly | an invitation to dance

Himalayan blue poppy | potential, possibilities

[canadiandogteeth]

mourneress

𝓝𝓪𝓽𝓪𝓵𝓲𝓪 𝓓𝓻𝓮𝓹𝓲𝓷𝓪

1st day of autumn.

Autumn was dozing in the faded, brittle grass. A silent song of decay hovered over the valley, quietly disturbing the motionless feathers of the fieldfare, the withered yellowish leaves in the tree crowns, the broken wings of a moth whose soul the August night had carried away. Towards morning I dreamed of her sisterly embrace and this familiar feeling of tender sadness appeared. My heart is home again. And this home is faded meadows, with crimson flashes of wild strawberry leaves, with silver strings of cobwebs and agrimonia thorns.

[midwestbramble]

Agrimony Folklore

Agrimonia spp.

Ruled by ♃ 

⸙༄𓆤𓆩𓆪❁𓇢𓆸🏵

Contents:

Overview

Folklore

Use in Witchcraft

Safety Notes

Conclusion

⸙༄𓆤𓆩𓆪❁𓇢𓆸🏵

Overview

Found on the edges of woods and sun-dappled fields, agrimony loves partial sun. Flowering in early summer, it grows spikes of yellow flowers up to 24 inches tall. In the fall, many people will know this plant as one of the burrs that get stuck on their clothes after a walk in the woods.

Found commonly in Europe, temperate Asia, North Africa, and naturalized in North America, Agrimonia eupatoria has long been used for medicine and can be found May through July. It’s North American cousin, Agrimonia parviflora (aka small-flowered agrimony) can be found June through September in damp thickets and was used by different native groups for medicinal purposes as well.

For an ethical harvest, harvest leaves and flowers from only a few stems of each plant to ensure plant sustainability.

⸙༄𓆤𓆩𓆪❁𓇢𓆸🏵

Folklore

An Old English medical manuscript says this about agrimony:

"If it be leyd under mann’s heed, He shall sleepyn as he were deed; He shal never drede ne wakyn, Till under his heed it be takyn.”

⸙༄𓆤𓆩𓆪❁𓇢𓆸🏵

Use in Witchcraft

If you are having a hard time sleeping, agrimony can be added to a sleep pouch/bag/sachet and put under the pillow. It may also aid in dreams, especially when in communication with the dead. This can also be used very effectively in a fumigation blend.

⸙༄𓆤𓆩𓆪❁𓇢𓆸🏵

Safety Notes

Agrimony is tannin rich, which binds to other minerals (such as iron) and makes them hard for the body to absorb. If you are taking any iron supplements, or other mineral supplements, wait at least 2 hours in between use if you plan to consume the plant.

⸙༄𓆤𓆩𓆪❁𓇢𓆸🏵

Conclusion

Agrimony is a fairly common plant that many people over look and don't realize is even there. Small and demure as it is. Still, it's a wonderful plant ally to call upon. Next time you're out for a walk, see if you can catch a glimpse of a new friend.

Resources:

Peterson Field Guide to Medicinal Plants of the Eastern and Central North America

Midwest Medicinal Plants by Lisa M. Rose

Botanical.com