Asakiyume mita

Mugwort was what I set out for, as I have become addicted to mugwort tea.

Exhibit One: Mugwort



It's taller than me, which is something I love in a wildflower or weed. ( It silhouettes nicely against the sky. )

But on my return, I found something wonderful by the side of the road: a book



It turns out to be King Spruce, by Holman Day. It was published in 1908.



Holman Day (1865-1935) was a Maine native, a journalist and newspaper publisher, and the author of twenty-three novels and three books of ballads. A scholarly article that wakanomori kindly procured for me dismisses the novels ("None of his publications, unfortunately, can be placed much above the level of the pot-boiler") but takes interest in the ballads. I think I'd like to find the ballads.

I think I'll try the book too, though. I opened at random and found this passage:

"And now, speaking of arresting in the name of the law," snarled the lumber baron, "and your duty that you seem so fond of, Rodlliff, get out your handcuffs for something that's worth while. It's three years in state-prison for maliciously setting fires on timber lands. It's a long vacation in the county jail for assaulting a man without provocation. There's the girl who set that fire; there's the man that struck me. So you see, Lane, your prisoner is going to have company."

Do you sense a villain?