The last day of August is upon us. It’s so cool here in the hollow that I decide to winnow the second batch of my elderberries sitting outdoors where Coalie can keep a sharp eye on me from her dog bed on the porch. I note that hummingbirds are thinning out. As I begin this separation of berry from stem, I imagine that I am connected to all women everywhere through what is often called (pejoratively) ‘woman’s work’. Women who were the first seed keepers and berry winnowers like today’s Indigenous peoples that still follow the old ways. Oh, I am grateful to be sitting among them in my imagination. Still, I yearn. I wish I could share this task with just one other woman, and for a moment sink into that familiar loneliness. As I look at my purple stained fingers reflecting on how exquisite a natural dye this must make, I think I might try to collect another batch of berries to experiment with.
I am not sure just when all thought ceased but every year, I experience this phenomenon while plucking purple elderberries with my fingers… and then? Two hours later the winnowing is done, just as I begin to lose the sun. Returning to the house I finish my tinctures in minutes, pouring amethyst berries into jars and covering them with alcohol. After steeping for six weeks this medicine will help me ward off colds and flu. Covid too. I am mindful that elderberries are a gift from nature that I receive each year. Gratitude overflows at this time of the ‘Gathering In’.
Continue reading “The Grandmother Way by Sara Wright”
