Rose hip


It is taking all my willpower to simply type what I have written this morning and not edit it! But, here goes:

Rose hip

Ophelia wrote a story called Mr Rosehip Tea. It was one of the first stories she shared with me. I didn’t know her very well then, but now I see that the story was one that only she could have told. Madcap, of course, and very witty. It was one of those that effervesces off the page.

Last week, a poet I know posted a picture on facebook of a basket of rose hips that she had gathered out on a walk. They looked like little jewels – garnets – shiny, brilliant, the fruit of the rose, pungent and full of acidity. Seems a fitting concentration of the flower who is dully reputed for beauty and sweetness. There’s a perverse comfort in learning that the end result of so much gorgeousness is something hard, tart, and bright.

It took me a long time to connect these red baubles with the soft flowers they issue from.  I thought it was just another case of two things with related names who weren’t actually related – like all the different Ellie Wilsons I’ve known. But no, one is the evolution, the eventual state of the other.

Lemon Zinger tea.  When I was young, I remember going to someone’s house and being offered Lemon Zinger tea. Of course I accepted.  It sounded bohemian and earthy.  I loved the colour. This tea has, as a main ingredient, rose hips. The tea is a deep scarlet with a pungent smell.  It was such a disappointment, the taste, though.  In order to get the colour dark enough to be beautiful, I had to let the tea steep so long it became chokingly strong to the taste.  Trade off?  Or maybe an acknowledgment that intensity permeates: strong colour, strong taste.  One cannot be both bold and mild.

This entry was posted in Present, not precious - November 2016, Writing and tagged , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to Rose hip

  1. Everyone in this household woke up today in a ridiculously happy mood. We don’t know why. There is nothing special going on. We feel as if we have been caught in a blessings shower.

    The tarot card I’d lined up for today is 0 – “The Fool”. This is so good: apparently it signifies that we are ready to go in any direction, are open to all sorts of possibilities and have an infinite future. The Fool suspects and plans nothing, reacts directly to the current situation, and doesn’t scheme, or hide anything. What an interesting way to start November.


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