Braiding Sweetgrass

Description

Hold out your hands and let me lay upon them a bundle of

In winter, when the green earth lies resting underneath a cover of

day off, is the ideal opportunity for narrating. The narrators start by

calling upon the individuals who preceded who passed the accounts down

to us, for we are just dispatchers.

In the first place there was the Skyworld.

She fell like a maple seed, pirouetting on a harvest time breeze.* A

segment of light gushed from an opening in the Skyworld, denoting her

way where just dimness had been previously. It required some investment

to fall. In dread, or perhaps trust, she gripped a group firmly in her

hand

newly

picked sweetgrass, free and streaming, as recently washed hair.

Brilliant green and gleaming over, the stems are grouped with purple

furthermore, white where they meet the ground. Hold the wrap up to your

nose. Discover the aroma of sweet vanilla over the fragrance of waterway

water and dark earth and you comprehend its logical name:

Hierochloe data,

which means the fragrant, sacred grass.