Lady of the Tulip's Stem

 I, like many in my time, learned from a very young age about life in this world. The creatures, of course, but also the plants. Every leaf and stem an amalgamation of cells with purpose and intention. Perhaps not as lively or active as a fox or an ostrich, perhaps not as odd as a penguin or a bat, but alive nonetheless.

And yet, never before have I felt the life of the plants. Standing in the broken sunlight, the vines rustled, and the bark of the invading trees creaked as if speaking. The leaves above me parted way to guide something down... a figure, a person. Each step she made guided by a vine, a flower, a plant, and yet the support did not crumple any.

Light seeped into the room, and the plants seemed not of the greedy nature I was familiar with, none acted to hog it all. Rather, as the light entered the room, they each seemed to share it, as finally this mistress of the leaf took her steps down to the Earth.

This woman was a strange one. Tall as a five-year oak with a gown of the finest silk donned at the hems with vines and leaves, moving in symphony with her strides. Atop her head sat an old Victorian hunter's fedora, the pale and green combination shadowing her skin as pale as a daisy, and her hair as red as a rose.

As though she were a far-away land mapped for the first time, she entered my knowledge and my presence with this impossible sense of both being mysterious, new, and yet ancient, trustworthy.

As she walked down the ancient reclaimed corridor, across the tattered rug, it became clear to me that she was no normal person.

Where in presence of the President or the King the men of this world may kneel, in the presence of this woman, I could see each plant bow. Every flower shy'd it's face, every leaf cleared the way.

Yet, it was not fear that brought this action. This was no cruel queen. Stood before me was a woman of adventure, of love, of compassion. A woman who did not wear against the leaves, but rather carried them.

"Mother Nature, I presume"

She grinned almost childishly at the title, the sparkle of her honey-colored eyes shining as she replied:

"Daughter, I think you'll find."