Not for the faint of heart.
Not the sort of flower you press between the pages of a love letter.
But perhaps the kind you find in the margins of an old apothecary’s book, ink-smudged and underlined.
With its pale, veined petals like parchment and a scent that’s hard to pin down, unsettling, some say, Hyoscyamus niger has never pretended to be sweet. Poisonous in nearly every part, yet used carefully, even sparingly by ancient physicians to lull the sleepless, still a tremor, or blur the edges of pain.
Shakespeare knew it. So did Pliny. So did the natural philosophers, if the stories are true.
Black Henbane doesn’t ask to be admired. But if you do, make it from a distance. Beauty like this was never meant to be harmless.
Stunning when pressed and observed.
Not for the faint of heart.
Not the sort of flower you press between the pages of a love letter.
But perhaps the kind you find in the margins of an old apothecary’s book, ink-smudged and underlined.
With its pale, veined petals like parchment and a scent that’s hard to pin down, unsettling, some say, Hyoscyamus niger has never pretended to be sweet. Poisonous in nearly every part, yet used carefully, even sparingly by ancient physicians to lull the sleepless, still a tremor, or blur the edges of pain.
Shakespeare knew it. So did Pliny. So did the natural philosophers, if the stories are true.
Black Henbane doesn’t ask to be admired. But if you do, make it from a distance. Beauty like this was never meant to be harmless.
Stunning when pressed and observed.
