Morningside Cuesta parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme

Faun’s smile was a sure thing, knowing the certainty of his words. Spring would come, as it always did, bearing on her wings the offshoots of plants and the young of animals alike.

It was easy to agree. It was known fact.

Since the beginning, in fact. She had met Crowfeather and the rest was history.

Though I did leave, just for a little while, to go south. I traded for herbs with meat and stories. And then I came back. Politely bearing gifts like the world’s most gangly Santa Claus.