The sharpness hit first—familiar as a lullaby. Then the bitterness, deeper now, seasoned with memory. And underneath it all, something sweet I had never noticed before: the faint taste of rain on old wood, of laundry drying on a line, of my mother's hands brushing my hair from my forehead.
I swallowed and smiled. The bush tasted like her. It always had. tasting mothers bush
I was seven the first time she told me to taste it. The sharpness hit first—familiar as a lullaby
When it comes to exploring and understanding different types of plants, including those found in a garden or a bush, it's essential to approach with curiosity and caution. If you're interested in learning about tasting or identifying plants, here are some general guidelines: I swallowed and smiled
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