The cold, wet walk that never ends…

Augh! This walk just keeps going. Sigyn has started looking at all the berries and exclaiming about the colors.

We saw one of these beautyberry bushes back in the summer. I will grudgingly concede that the fruit is indeed a very vivid color.


Sigyn wants to climb everything. My cloak is sodden and I just want to go home. (But I seem to be caught on something.)

I know Sigyn has had us in the holly before. (She seems to gravitate to red things for some reason.) But look–wet berries, wet leaves, wet Loki. Sweetling, please can we be done now?


Oh, very well. One last plant. This vine is one I have encountered before. It and I treat each other with wary respect. There is a botanical truce. I could blast it into compost, but it has truly vicious prickles…


…which Sigyn seems not to mind. Sigh. By all means, let us indulge in some foliar gymnastics.

The human female says the pulp in the berries is stretchy and the plant is sometimes called “Snotberry.” Sigyn wants to pull one open and see, but since they also stain your fingers, I think she probably shouldn’t.

Oh, great. Now the human female is blathering on about local dyeplants and she and Sigyn are brainstorming a dyeing session and discussing the merits of solar versus simmer dyeing and the toxic properties of various mordants vis-a-vis their effects on vegetable dye sources and various plant and animal fibers and I’m never going to get home, am I?

>|: [


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