Yarrow

Yarrow grows where things have been broken—roadsides, field edges, places where the soil has been turned. It is not tender. It does not ask for care.

The old names tell its story: soldier’s woundwort, nosebleed, devil’s nettle, thousand-leaf. It closes wounds. It stems blood. It draws boundaries that hold.

In Practice

Yarrow tea before divination, to sharpen the sight.

Yarrow at the threshold, to keep what should stay out.

Yarrow in the hand when you must say no and mean it.

Notes

The leaves, crushed, smell like camphor and green pepper. The flowers dry well. A single plant, left alone, will hold its ground for years.