Yarrow is one of the oldest native plants; in fact it is believed that Achilles used yarrow to heal the wounds of his warriors. There are plenty of folktales that include mystical and medicinal uses for this pretty herb (weed), and here is one of my own.
It was going to be a very cold miserable winter on the Emerald Isle. The family who farmed the land next to the sea had not yet harvested their crops, and rain was drawing near. Once the rain started, it was not going to let up. It would be the start of constant freezing rain and an hungry winter. The youngest daughter, a waif-like lass named Catherine, had a sweet disposition but nary a hard working bone in her body. She could however, read very clearly the fear in her father’s and mother’s eyes. Her eldest sister had left this past summer to live with her new husband, and the free air in the family’s sod house had shrunken as the chores and workload grew larger and larger without her extra help.
Every night, Catherine prayed and wished she could find a husband to help her family work the land, but every night was filled with restless tossing and turning instead of dreams. So every morning she woke more tired than the night before and she had no clue whom her husband might be or when she’d find him. One day Catherine went to market at her mother’s bidding and she passed near the old healer woman who was selling herbal remedies for headaches, nose bleeds and, the ache that inflicted Catherine: heartache. Yarrow was this woman’s herb of choice: good for staunching blood and curing fevers and pains. With a sharp eye, the healer saw exactly what the tired young lass needed and she beckoned Catherine close. The healer woman whispered into Catherine’s ear and held her wrist tightly so she could not tear away before hearing the entire message.
That afternoon, as she was trudging home, Catherine came upon some yarrow plants growing in the fields, and although she doubted a plant could help her find a husband, she followed the healer’s instructions. She cut away some yarrow and tucked the soft stems of leaves and blossoms into her satchel. At home that evening, working quickly by candlelight, she sewed the yarrow into a bit of soft fabric and laid it under her pillow.
Quietly she chanted, “Thou pretty herb of Venus’ tree, Thy true name it is Yarrow; Now who my bosom friend must be, Pray tell thou me to-morrow.”*
That night, she laid down to sleep, once again hoping to dream of her future husband who’ might’d help them work the land and survive the winter. The night was moonless and long and Catherine slept deeply. She dreamed many dreams, but one image stayed with her. It was a watery image of a handsome gentleman’s face. She could not clearly make out his features, yet she felt more peaceful than she had in weeks. The morning dawned with promise.
“Catherine, go fetch some water for tea this morning, please,” her mother said. “And be quick about it. The storm is close by.”
Catherine hurried to do as her mother asked and she ran down to the stream before the wind brought the rain. At the stream, she bent down to fill her bucket with the icy water and she gazed into the rippling water. A vision came to her then, a vision of a handsome young man with clear blue eyes, strong arms and a broad chest across which hung a bow and quiver of arrows. It was the man she’d seen in her dream! She gasped and felt a thrill, but then immediately felt embarrassed. She blushed, although no one was near to see her. She told herself she’d just replayed her dream. It was simply a watery recollection.
Catherine sighed, then shook her head to clear her mind. As she did, she became aware of a presence beside her. She spied sturdy boots standing in the leaves at stream side. Then a strong hand reached down to lift her up. Catherine stood, and looked into the eyes, the real eyes of her husband to be. Yarrow had brought her a husband, just as the healer woman had promised.
That winter was warmed by laughter and candlelight and new found love. Catherine and her husband lived with her parents until spring, when they settled nearby where the hunting was good. They shared their good fortune with Catherine’s parents, helped them with the harvests, together enjoyed a lifetime of happy years. For all her days, Catherine planted yarrow outside her front door as a reminder of its power and her good fortune.
Please come back tomorrow for a new “Weed Image of the Day” and let me know which ones you like.
We and our weeds are so much more than what we first appear to be.
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*(Halliwell’s “Popular Rhymes”, 1849) is a collection of traditional nursery rhymes and folktales passed down by generations and published in England in 1849 by James Orchard Halliwell. It is available at the following link http://www.gutenberg.org/files/35707/35707-h/35707-h.htm
