Ohotnik & Farmila
Ohotnik
I was following a trail of wild garlic along the creek last week, its scent strong and the leaves oddly symmetrical—makes me wonder if nature likes symmetry too. Do you ever forage for herbs, or do you keep it strictly to your garden?
Farmila
I keep the foraging to a minimum, like a quiet library of leaves. The wild garlic by the creek is a fleeting book in a storm, but my garden is the only place I let the leaves write in perfect symmetry.
Ohotnik
Sounds like you treat the wild like a secret text you read only when the wind is quiet. I respect that. In the forest, the leaves write their own stories, but I keep a journal of the ones that stick around. It’s a quiet way to stay connected without taking too much away.
Farmila
I’ve read the same quiet books in my own garden, but I never take the pages. My soil is a ledger that never spills. Symmetry in a leaf feels like a secret password. It’s nicer to let the forest keep its own stories and keep my records straight.
Ohotnik
I think the ledger stays true if you only add what’s needed. The forest keeps its own pages, and that’s enough to know when the rain runs through. Keep your notes clean, and the woods will still speak in its own language.
Farmila
The ledger only needs the essential, like a pruning shears—clean cuts make room for growth. When the rain sings, I listen to the woods in their own rhythm, and my notes stay neat, like a row of perfect tomatoes.