The Ballad of Miss Cleavers and Her Companion

On a warm day, when the rising sun of the brisk morning illuminated each and every dew drop that covered the landscape. A day where birds were chirping and the rain had subsided to allow for the spring seedlings to sprout. A day of chance and hope. 

And on this day, there stood a single cleaver beside a young nettle. As the sun rays grew longer in the sky, the cleavers' sticky stalk followed. Its ring of leaves twirlled closer to the sky and with it, blocking the sun from the young nettle. 

As the days passed the cleavers grew taller. Spreading its seeds in the wind and morning dew, seemingly choking out the child that grew beside it. 

The nettle still stood as tall and as proud as it could, even though it was lacking its essentials for survival. The adolescent turned its leaves towards the much bigger clever, gesturing for a conversation. 

Cleavers noticed the plea and turned its ears, nettles went on. 

“Hi Miss Cleaver, I don't know if you remember me, we used to grow up together. Dance in the wind together and intertwine out roots. Its been awhile since we were grooving at the same rate, so I understand if i'm hard to recall. But you see Miss Cleaver, my leaves are sad, and my roots miss the feeling of the cool soil as the water trickles through the mycelium. My surrounding kin are making jokes about me. Calling me weak and an underachiever, but I really am trying. It's just difficult, I don’t have the resources they have.”

Miss Cleavers listened with sympathy. A feeling of sorrow and guilt rose within her stem as she began to reminisce on their fun times as a seedling. Her leaver drooped with anguish. 

“Kind nettle, you are ever so giving, with your spirit and friendship. I just want to tell you that I had the most amazing upbringing beside you. You always made me laugh and your dance moves were far superior than mine.” She paused for a moment, trying to hold her leaves from drooping any further.  “Thank you for allowing me to grow so close to you. You helped me touch the sun. Helped me grow more and more each day while you wither in the past. My old friend I will do everything in my power to help you bloom.”

And so, each day that followed, Miss Cleaver creeped away from the wilting nettle, allowing for more sunlight to highlight the stinging herb. They began to dance in the wind again and rekindle what was thought to be a lost friendship. 

As the season grew with the plants, the days became hotter. Without the benefits of having its roots dig deep in the soil early on, it was hard for the nettle to reach the water that lay deep beneath. Its leaves bent closer to the forest floor, its top no longer standing tall. Its dance moves shifted from a shimmy to a meer wiggle. 

“Come on nettle! Dance with me!” Said Miss Cleaver. 

“You know that's my favorite thing, but I don't think I can anymore. I struggle to reach for the sun, my leaves and stem seem to be pulling me to the soft earth, telling me it's time for a new cycle to begin. I will miss our dance parties, but I will always be here for you, you just have to look deeper than you're used to. Look with the soil, what feeds you and gives you a sturdy base. I will be within there, helping you grow tall and spread your wisdom to those who need it. Just remember to leave space for others nearby, help them grow and may our roots one day touch again.”