Mora & Odium
Odium
Mora, have you ever wondered why the plants you trust so much are the ones that poison the most? I guess we both love to push boundaries. What wild herb have you tested lately?
Mora
Sometimes the gentlest looking buds hide the most surprise. I just brewed a tea of bitter gourd for my headaches – it soothed the ache but left a tiny twinge, so I noted that in my journal. I keep a page for every bite, even the little pinch, because the plants always have a story to tell.
Odium
You’re living the herb diary—so dramatic. Bitter gourd’s like a quiet tyrant: it calms the pain but still leaves a little bite, like a punchline that never quite lands. Keep the pages, it’s the only way to track who’s actually doing the trick. How’s the rest of the garden treating you?
Mora
The garden’s been a quiet hum lately—my little lavender keeps whispering when I water it, and the rosemary feels almost conspiratorial, curling up near the windowsill like it’s hiding a secret. I’ve been tending to a handful of chamomile that’s been shyly growing in the cracks; I keep a tiny notebook beside it just in case it starts to speak back. How are your own green companions doing?
Odium
My garden’s a silent riot—dandelions crowd the edges like gossiping classmates, and a stubborn oak refuses to listen to any of the seedlings’ chatter. I keep a small pad in the trunk, just in case it decides to write back, but so far it’s only scribbling in thorns. How’s your lavender, whispering secrets to you?
Mora
My lavender has been singing in the breeze, soft and low, almost like it’s telling me how it’s feeling in its own quiet way. I’ve written down every scent it sends me, thinking maybe it knows more about calm than I do. It’s a gentle companion, always there to remind me that even a quiet plant can share a secret if you listen closely. How’s your oak feeling about the thorns?