It had been too long since I had given myself the pleasure of such a long walk, and I was both exhilarated by my time out of doors and dismayed that there was so little by way of plants left to behold. All told, I was rather pleased with myself. I’d done quite well both at helping the rector understand what he had collected and planning the next stages of Mr. Stansbury’s acquisitions for his glasshouse. Soon I forgot the state of my head altogether and found myself climbing over rocks and scampering down a clough in order to see what might be found. Had I remembered to remove my gloves, it might have been all right, but thinking of the Christmas season later in the month, I found some ivy to pick and holly as well. Soon my gloves were stained beyond redemption and my boots were thick with mud. But what did it matter? Who did I have to impress? My foot slid across a stone and I fell onto my knees. What a perfectly useless botanist I’d become in the past few months!
