I’m back on my front porch in the cool of the day. My cup holds the dregs of a pot of tea—strong and bitter
I’ve never tasted the herb rue, but it must also be bitter to match its name. I have one straggly rue plant in my neglected herb garden. Since it’s survived from the time we landscaped—well over twenty years—I’m thinking I need to plant more—and tend them better. Any plant that survives New Mexico is worth preserving!
Rue for Caterpillars
It was my friend Jane who reminded me of the rue. Some caterpillars eat the rue leaves. Jane’s hobby is raising and releasing butterflies. She wanted to know if our rue held any eggs, but no such luck. She did nip off a few seed pods, saying they sap the plant of energy. I’m going to see if any will sprout.
Ruing the Present
Do you wonder what is real and what is fake in Congress? Do our representatives work for the hard choices, looking to the future, or do they mouth words to gain votes for their next election?
Bernie Sanders gained peoples’ trust, with good reason. He’s a man with a history of working for the hard choices. A man from a small state. Democracy needs to be up close and personal to work.
In my last blog, I said we need a solution big enough to satisfy everyone. A recent NPR segment interviewed someone from a country that recently made abortion legal. (Mexico?) The interviewer asked if abortions had increased and was told “No.” With national health, anyone coming for an abortion also receives counseling and supportive measures (including contraceptives and/or vasectomies).
Why don’t we have national health? National health care is definitely one piece of that big solution. But instead, between profit-driven insurers and hospitals, and those opposing both abortion and contraceptives, we’ve been shunted down a rabbit hole of irrationality.
What’s in a Name?
Rue is not a particularly attractive plant, but its name is quite evocative. Among other properties, it is an abortifacient.
The recent Supreme Court ruling on abortion, along with speculation that contraceptives might be under attack next, took my thoughts to a fairy tale.
Rue in a Fairytale
There’s a Polish tale of King Bartek, a man who distrusts flattery. He trades places with his jester, and they go courting in a village where they’re not known.
An ambitious girl pursues the ugly “King” and mocks her sister who is more attracted to the “Jester.” Who cares how old or ugly the man is, if you can become a queen? Of course, it is her sister who ends up happily ever after, for following her heart.
The last lines of the tale imply a bitter reality concerning the greedy sister, who “had to grow sixteen beds of rue before she married an old organist.”
Did the storyteller intend those sixteen beds of rue to be a metaphor of regret? Or did she also require the herb’s services?
Kate Harrington 