Fall is one of my favorite times of the year, One of the things I love about this time of year is harvesting roots. Below is a poem that I found in one of my old Spindleweed Magazines...an herbal mag that sadly does not exist anymore. I may have shared this poem in the past, but it is the season, so I am sharing again. The issue that I took this from is all about burdock, which is a wonderful root to harvest! So below is the poem...if you have fall stories to share about plants or roots in particular please do share.

The Rootwomen
by J. Goldspinner

The rootwomen are here and there and everywhere
They creep between long and shadowed trees at dusk
hurry down narrow paths
with their oakwoven baskets over their arms
scurry thru twisty tunnels under the ground
popping out of holes like moles
Called wise women by some, by others old fools
Spinsters, grannies, witches, crones, hags
Herb-women, baby catchers, baby snatchers
women-lovers, earth mothers:
The Irish call them faery folk, and fear them-
nay, revere them

The rootwomen are old, old as the hills.
Their bones are stone,
the stones are bone.
Gnarled and knotted, like old apple trees
(but like old apples, unexpectedly ablossom and fragrant)

The rootwomen are russet and orange,
myriads of browns and reds
like late oak leaves after the brights are gone.
Silver grey are the, and changing-shimmering-
Their long thin fingers beat at the window
drum on the pane with the rain
ra-ta-ta-tat Ra-ta-ta-tat

The wind's howl is their call,
the cricket's chirp.
And they laugh. Oh how they laugh-
Gleeful, mocking, shocking, rocking, crackling, laughing.

The rootwomen come out by night
dance by candlelight
dance by the light of the moon
to the tune of the lune
(and she the queen)

In spirals and swirls they whirl.
They dance to the stars,
the tides, the seasons;
the earth is their reason.

Ah but they're quick-
just out of sight around the turn.,
peering out the mole's hole
and gone when you look again.

Because you can't see them
you think them not real;
But be-ware-
be wary.

The great roots reach down
hold on
hold up the earth.

The rootwomen are here
and there
and everywhere.