Bunk In the Present

cichorium intybus

This girl is a long way from home.  Her ancestors hang out on the banks of the Nile River while she lives high above the rocky coast of Maine.  My favorite moniker for this plant is blue daisy or maybe blue sailor or perhaps bunk.  Botanically, it's named common chicory.  Blue-violet blooms sprout all along the walk on tall stalks with lots of buds.   Yesterday I heard them a-whooping and a-hollering at me.  I just had to stop and take a closer look.  And a little research.  Out of coffee?  Just grind up chicory root.  The French did that during the war with England in 1806 to make up for a shortage of coffee.  Making a boring salad or pasta dish? Add blue chicory petals and their green leaves to pump up the color.  They offer you a nice dose of beta-carotene, calcium, manganese, zinc, folic acid, iron, potassium, and vitamins A, B 6, C, E, and K.   Who knew?  Well maybe the Roman poet, Horace, did as he wrote in his Odes 2,000 years ago, "Olives,  chicory, and blue mallow are enough for me to live on."  In Egypt, chicory was thought to bring success and make one invulnerable.  Apparently "experienced" shamans use it to speed up or slow down time on path walking.  THAT one makes sense as I slowly amble the path bordering the sea, stopping to wonder for the first time, at this blue daisy standing tall against the cool  breeze.  According to European folklore this delicate little blue daisy, a relative of the dandelion, has the magical powers  to open locked doors and make me invisible.  I'm definitely gonna harvest me up a blue daisy, bunk, blue sailor plant on my next walk along the familiar beach path that borders the coastal surf.  I'll grind the roots so I can savor a cup of hot of wild chicory tea.  I will wonder what mystical and magical doors will be opened for me. Forever more I will notice bunk and his botanical mates as much as I enjoy the view out to sea.  No longer simply caught in contemplative reverie.   Living in the present moment thanks to common chicory.