It's not St John's Wort

The Crone's ID skills leave something to be desired.

Recently, a friend told me to meditate with St John's Wort, since, what with being on medication, I cannot consume it. Ah-ha, I thought, I remember finding some a few years back!

I went to that place and, lo! and behold!, there were yellow flowers. Happily, I plucked them and brought them home to dry.

A few days later, I held the flowers as I meditated. At once, I received a vision of this face, a blonde haired person, non gender-specific, with vines around their face, reminiscent of a picture I had seen years ago in a book called Masquerade (the story of which is fascinating.) This is not the picture I recall, but either that image is not on the web or I imagined it. Still, the person is about right.

In the vision, the person was smiling hugely, but I knew, or could see, that the extreme happiness masked a deep and dangerous despair. It was delight as the reverse of desperation. And I heard the message, this is not for you.

Ah! I thought, so, St John's Wort can't help me.

Then, I considered the plant I had plucked and realised that it was in fact ragwort.

Ragwort was used in the past as a poultice for rheumatism and a gargle for sore throats, but it is toxic, causing liver damage. Even touching it can cause rashes. Now there is some research suggesting that chemicals sourced from it may have pharmaceutical uses, but the plant itself is poisonous. We used to remove it from horses' fields. Horses don't tend to eat it, actually: the real danger is when it is in hay as then they don't discern the plant and it can cause severe issues.

In any case, my "vision" knew more than I did.

I photographed these because I was intrigued over whether the curled up flower heads were the start or the end of the bloom. I think the start.

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