!E for elder
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agk's diary
5 October 2021 @ 19:28
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written on GPD Win 1 (2016)
in garage with napping baby
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I had a bad fever 15 years ago in a New Orleans
single room occupancy homeless hotel. Books crowded
the walls of my second-floor corner room on scavenged
shelves built by my boyfriend. Between the top ranks
of books and drop ceiling, elderflower dried on paper
bags.
I steeped a handful of the tiny white flowers with
whatever dried mint I had (to save me from nausea)
in a liter of water heated by hotplate. I had to
drink the whole liter hot. My sweat soaked sheets,
mattress pad, and mattress. During fever dreams my
fever broke.
We pass elder bushes on walks to the creek. Clusters
of purple stems branch like bronchioles, terminating
sometimes in alveoli-like purple berries, sometimes
in cymose corymb clouds of tiny white flowers. On
damp days the dusky odor of the flowers hits you
before you see them at the edge of the woods.
European folklore says you risk abduction by fairies
if you sleep under an elder. "Hello, Ilona-flower,"
we say when we pass (Ilona is the fairy-queen). I
remember fevers elderflower broke for me and stories
I've read about its aid in the 1918 flu and other
bad times. It makes me smile, like a good friend.
