Sage Mother plant came to my little bit of a garden late in the fall, when I wondered if she would manage to take properly. She came to me as a gift from a stranger, a gardener who loved her plants and wanted their care to continue even after they left her garden. It was a reluctant gift, because I am no knowledgeable gardener in these latitudes. Now it is summer and Sage has extended, lifted her branches, unfurled her velvety leaves. She blooms in astonishing purples, flowers that appear like tiny faces, ready to speak.
And I sit nearby, amidst the savory fragrance of her leaves. I am aware of her vitality, even when I look away from her. I close my eyes and realize that our roles have changed. When I planted her, I felt motherly, protective.
Now, sitting here, I feel her protective reach draw me in like a hug. She is my teacher, gently, silently, sharing some of her wisdom with me, inviting me to come often to visit her in my little garden.