Letters From Home:
Dear friend what strange times are these. My dearest hope is that this missive finds you ere you arrive home–thusly lessening the shock that may wrack your being.
Not a fortnight ago, upon your leaving our fair lands, did a winter storm take hold and coat all far and wide in a thick blanket of snow and ice. Winds so cold as to cause the flesh of my hands to whiten within moments dare I venture out of doors without gloves. Grateful we were for solid walls and a strong hearth.
But, just the other night, I swore I heard rain pouring down from the heavens. And lo, when I awoke, the sun was shining!
Mysterious movements of wind, rain, and sun are not why I write to you though, precious friend. Today, the snow melted from my pottage field. Truth, I mislead you not. If I were to see my precious herbals springing forth from the earth within the week I would no longer feel surprise.
Spring, oh that long lost pleasure! Do not doubt that green will be your fields upon your return. Look not for the snowy hills and icy peaks for they will shortly have vanished. Seek instead the sprouting knolls and flowering meadows of a new season.
Forthwith I will be planting the beans and other pulses, greens for glorious salates, and some of the new plants discovered on our mutual journeys. To see the small leaves of seedlings does give me hope. Surely your kind husband will be sowing the fields soon as well–spring mud notwithstanding.
Fairer still, I have convinced my good husband to sacrifice a small part of the field to a new pond. My fervent hope is to lure the toads and birds in close to remove those horrid vermin that have wreaked such havoc on my garden previously. You remember them, I trust, those bilious green spotted beasties especially. A few fish found from a nearby stream will aid in averting nasty biting insects too, I dream. What fun it will be!
Mayhap we can sit in the sun soon and share stories of travels and friends.
So missed you have been over this long, cold season. Your infectious laugh and smiling countenance are longed for overmuch. Be safe on the roads home to us.
Til next we meet, I will remain your stalwart friend.