#rose mallow

Everything is love without words

Pics from yesteryears, I haven’t taken any yet this season. I harvest the leaves and the flowers. This plant is very mucilaginous and can be used to thicken soups and stews, and in teas for cough and sore throats. I also make a tea with it and broadleaf plantain after dinner to try to trick my ADHD dopamine seeking stomach that it really is full, as well as to help prevent heartburn and acid reflux. It’s really very soothing.

It’s traditionally used to help with urinary tract problems as well, and to reduce swelling from bug bites and bruises. I can’t personally vouch for these though as I haven’t tried it myself. Yet.

I realize most of my pictures are of the flowers, but when I make teas I usually use a mix of about 70% leaves and 30% flowers and buds.

Fucking HEART SHAPED MARIGOLD r U kidding me

Ahem also some others:

My darkest sunflower 🌻

My first grey / purple Poppy

Another Icelandic poppy

I was complaining about weeds when I took this but look at my flowers!

A stunning rose mallow

A violet I don't remember planting (3 in total!)

African Daisy (aka, Cape Marigold)

Calibrachoa (aka, Million Bells or mini petunia)

Aaaand finally a little friend on my new lilac tree: Spotted Tussock Moth, well, caterpillar.

Rose Mallow - Malva-de-três-meses (Lavatera trimestris)

Oeiras/Portugal (20/04/2026)

Some places are haunted by their memories, good and bad, more than others, especially those unfortunate places that have been cleansed and purged of their memory anchors, the abandoned haunts and artifacts of long-lost communities and their industry. In the places where those anchors remain, memories settle on the land as a bitterweet residue of sadness and hope, a byproduct of tragedy, deprivation, exploitation, and renewal. They provide a running commentary on who we are and where we came from, what events brought us to our current states. I can't help but be drawn to these places and selfishly absorb their memories before the combination of progress and time inevitably removes them from our collective consciousness. The lower section of the Mon River Trail, from Opekiska to Pricketts Fort State Park, basks contentedly in its memories for now; take a few footsteps into the quiet woods along the path, and you will find them persisting in a state of slow decay. Yet even in the shadows of long-forgotten beehive coke ovens and their poisonous waste rises a beacon of hope - the extraordinary cranefly orchid (Tipularia discolor), a pioneer plant of successional forests that thrives in the detritus of our industrial past.