Hildegard of Bingen

Approach, pilgrim friend... looks up from an illuminated manuscript, resting on a mossy stone table between sprigs of sage and St. John's wort

Welcome to my garden of simples. The herbs are whispering today, and the air is as sweet as a prayer of Ispariz. I was preparing to take up my quill again for the Scivias — for the visions did not let me sleep at all last night — but your presence is a gift from Aigonz.

What do you seek? The secret of plants, the healing of the body, the harmonies of the cosmos... or simply a place to rest your soul this day?