One day I went to the river where it rolls through the land like a steam engine. Summer breezes blew through the open meadows tossing my hair. I walked barefoot to the water shouldering a backpack, hands in my pockets. I took a full breath. Then another. I went there each day to connect with the earth. It was my heaven and the path was lined with wildflowers.
There was Lupine, who was purple-petaled and geometrically pleasing, and whose fruit's a legume in the fall. There was Ceanothus, a shiny-leafed-shrub with sweet smelling pastel-blue inflorescences.
Then there was the most majestic of all, Yarrow. Achilea milefolium, to the botanist. A perennial herb in the sunflower family that grew nearly everywhere. Stalky clusters of tiny white flowers rested atop a firm stem growing delicate fern-like leaves. It's floral aroma so fresh it made my mouth salivate. At the time all I could've said about it was that it was white and smelled nice.
I was no herbalist, but I had an open heart. My mind knew that there were healing properties of some plants and poison in others. I was raised here among the rock and snow. I knew that it was never the same water but the same river that swirled by. My skin was used to being bruised, splintered, or scraped up, being a recreational explorer. I stopped carrying a first aid kit everywhere. I would heal.
It was a usual day. Gone to the river for a dip. I swiftly dove off the rock into the turquoise current. My frustration and confusion washed away. I got out with all the usual symptoms of a glacial swim: heaving lungs, elevated heart rate, shivering, and crystal- clear vision. But this day an unusual symptom of fresh blood dripped from my pointer finger. I looked around in each direction, I was near a thicket of willow and poplar, patches of brown grasses, and blossoming yarrow.
Instinct took over. I went for the flower. I ripped off a leaf and chewed it up, it was bright and bitter. I spit it out and applied to my cut with pressure. It didn't sting like rubbing alcohol. It just stopped the bleeding within seconds. I let the poultice stay on as long as possible. This one was a friendly plant. Yarrow waved at me "You're welcome, it's time we met."