Several years ago I was asked to contribute a sentence for the anthology A Rewording Life: finding meaning in the wor(l)d, being put together by Sheryl Gordon in support of Alzheimer’s. The fabric of the book being random sentences from hundreds of writers, some well known, some not, each of whom had been given a word, the sentences interspersed with essays written by Sheryl on the subject of her mother’s dementia.

The word I was given was ‘nettles’ and I couldn’t have been happier. Nettles are one of the things I’d put on my individual ‘family’ crest, should I ever fancy making one. And I might.

While clearing out files today I’m reminded of all this, and the sentence I submitted:

The air turned blue with the heat of her language as bare legs walked through summer field and felt the sting… then a small voice arose: “Don’t hate me,” said the nettle, “I’ll do you no harm, and I make a very good soup.”

All very timely too given that the nettles will soon be making an appearance in my garden and I’ll soon be making soup.

Note: other items on my yet to be designed personal crest would be dandelions, columbine, and (of course) horseradish.

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