In my garden there are roses. Always roses. Long vines, draped over a picket fence. Then there are herbs. Anything to cure what ails you. Peppermint, mullien, sage, rosemary. Some lemon grass. Oh, lots and lots of indigo. They don’t need much. Shallow soil, humid air and some sun. We gone harvest it all and nothing will go to waste. My grandmothers, my mothers, this is for them.