Strawberries and Cream and the story of a nymph
Imagine a nymph. Yes, kind of like nymphomaniac, but from Ancient Greece and mythological. From a time so very different from our own, and from tales that were regarded infinitely more eminently than we do today. At the center of some these tales was the sacred, alluring, lustful nymph.
And why shouldn’t a beautiful, young and fertile ethereal woman-creature be the center of attention? Her beauty demands it. Her coy, playful nature makes you want to pay attention.
She is not alone. There are many nymphs. There are many different kinds of nymphs.
Naiads & Oceanids, the water nymph seductresses that you hope in whom’s “water” you’ll drown. Maeneds, dancing around Dionysus, the God of sex and merriment. If only we could get drink some mead with some Maeneds. There’s the Hesperides, the “daughters of the evening or sunset,” guardians of the Golden Apple Tree. The Golden Apple of Immortality or Chaos—could they be the same?
Chaos. You know what they say about the crazy, chaotic ones…
Then there’s Ida. Like Ida-ho. Ida, the nymph who took care of baby Zeus with lightning bolts in each hand, and presumably more destructive in his terrible twos than any baby born. And in her caretaking, she found a raspberry bush speckled with white raspberries and thorned branches. A thrust of the arm and a splash of blood onto the berries was all that it took to forever stain raspberries that distinctive reddish-pink. A seductive color that’s foreplay to the eyes, before experiencing the floral scent and subtly, coyly sweet taste that consumes once consumed.
We consume a little bit of nymph every time we eat a raspberry. No wonder it’s an aphrodisiac.
