Winter passed, and spring returned. I planted hedge of wicked briars and a trench of stinging nettle

Winter passed, and spring returned. I planted hedge of wicked briars and a trench of stinging nettles to shield my garden from curious visitors. I sowed the garden beds with nightshade, with henbane and mandrake. With hellebore, with foxglove and monkshood. For all I told myself that it served as both defense and a warning, I knew it for the empty gesture that it was: latching the barn door well after the horse had already bolted.

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