Adele Evershed

Orange

We drove to Aunty Mabby’s today. Briony was unusually quiet until she said, “I should’ve marched to Greenham with Delyth.” A lump rose in my throat like a protest. I promised we’d go after I’d organized the herbarium. She bit her lip as I said the St. Anne’s Lace in the fields was known as wild carrot and used to treat bladder problems. “You would know that,” she replied, a trace of rust in her words.

Yellow

Briony’s started calling the herbarium – Mabby’s mausoleum. Bucks Museum has expressed interest, and she can’t understand why I won’t give it to them. Mabby never married, devoting her life to this herbarium, and I have an idea to order everything by color. I’m starting with the wild daffodils. Most samples have a name, location, and date, but one has no label – it’s a spray of three-sepia petals rumpled like old lace, which makes me think of Miss Haversham. When I turned the card over, Mabby had written,’ her bouquet.’

Green

Like many botanists, Mabby collected moss from famous places. I thought Briony might like to see some from Abelard and Heloise’s tomb, but she’d never heard of them. After I told her their story, she said, “Just like Romeo and Juliet. Or us.” Then, “Delyth’s setting up a camp.” I wanted to ask her why we were like those doomed lovers, but instead, I said, “Didn’t know Delyth was a Girl Guide.” Briony looked far away, and I don’t think she heard.

Red

I love red algae; it’s like mermaid hair or a map to someone’s heart. I told Briony Queen Victoria was a keen seaweed collector, and she said, “How do you know these things?” I described gathering seaweed with Mabby, but she snapped, “It’s rhetorical.” I almost told her what rhetorical means but decided to open some Lambrusco as a peace offering instead.

Indigo

I found a photo tucked between the false indigo samples. It was Mabby in her WAAF uniform kissing a woman. She’d never told me she was gay. Even after I came out, all she’d said was, “A woman can break your heart as easily as a man.” She’d told me she lost her great love during the war, but I’d assumed it was a soldier. When I said this to Briony, she said, “You’ve always been clueless about love.” Maybe she’s right.

Violet

Today, Briony said, “The dead flowers you’re sorting are blooming outside. You should pay more attention to the living.” She’d cut thistles from the garden – purple as bruises. As she arranged them, she sang, ‘One Woman and a Co-Op Bag Went to Greenham Common.’ Delyth made it up – ridiculous!

Blue

I finished cataloging the chicory today and got a whiff of sadness – the same scent as Briony’s hair that last morning. Mabby had written, ‘Waiting in Vain-to the Celt’s chicory symbolized a maiden, awaiting her lover.’ Blue is the most elusive color in nature, and somehow that feels right.

Adele’s prompts were: The Year You Were Ten, a Botanist, and Strange Photos

Adele Evershed is a Welsh writer living in America. Her work has appeared in many journals including, Grey Sparrow Journal, Janus Lit, Full House Lit, Anti-Heroin Chic, and Gyroscope. Adele has been nominated for Best of the Net and for the Pushcart Prize for poetry and fiction writing.

Read more from Adele:
Here on Trash Cat Lit – ‘Did You Know if Sheep Fall on Their Backs, They Die’
Free Flash Fiction – ‘Scenes of War and Other Things I’ve Forgotten’
Janus Literary – ‘I ain’t Got Those Red Dress Blues No More’