#selfheal

[jillraggett]

Plant of the Day

Saturday 16 August 2025

This wildflower species Prunella vulgaris (selfheal, all-heal, blue curls, carpenter's square, heart of the earth, hookweed, sicklewort, square stem, thimble flower) was growing in an area of abandoned grown. This creeping perennial can be considered invasive growing in short turf with full sun or partial shade.

Jill Raggett

[dvoeverie-stitches]

Selfheal

[ifelten]

Almindelig brunelle (Prunella vulgaris)

Selfheal (Prunella vulgaris)

[curiouscatalog]

From: Maund, B. (Benjamin), 1790-1863. The botanic garden. London : George Bell and Sons, York Street, Covent Garden, 1878

SB407 .M45 1878

[geopsych]

Plant people: I was looking at some pictures I took of a mushroom and I noticed this plant. All I can figure out is that it’s a Prunella vulgaris that was cut at some point. They have those red, hairy scale-isa leaves at the tops of their normal blooms. But I wanted to know if there are any other guesses. 

[averixus]

Prunella vulgaris (common selfheal).

[the-rword]

RUSH.

An intimate description of millennial love. 

You randomly strolled into my life disguised as any regular guy on those useless dating apps. I thought you’d be just as uninteresting as every other guy I was talking to, and randomly ghosting. We started texting at 11 pm, and I was yawning to the fact that I was definitely going to leave you on read and become a passing cloud in your life by 11.07 pm. We made a little bit of small talk, fair. You asked me about me, and I told you a tad bit, fair. You asked me more, I told you a little more, fair. It’s like I was unscrewing the tap bit by bit, so that not I don’t let out more than required. Why, you ask me and I say that whenever I’ve let a lot of my plight flow, most of my past ships have drowned into it, washing me away to a shore, only to look for a better, stronger ship. Little did they know, that even the most herculean vessels haven’t been able to conquer ferocious tides when they come all at once. As I progress with my story, I stop typing, only to reckon that it’s been sixty whole minutes, and I haven’t lost interest. We ended up talking into the am. You keep reminding me of how different I am, and how you can’t wait to see me. It was that dawn, after many, that I went to bed with my lips curled into the realest smile I’d produced since I’d gotten my heart shattered.

A couple days in and you ask me whether it’s too soon for us to begin a relationship. I think of how beautiful some things are, when done in a haste, just because they feel right. I give in to your vibe and the fact that I’d longed, craved, and prayed for something this pure, and agree to being with you. We gradually learn things about each other, like how messy you are, and how I am the opposite. How you dislike being held while sleeping, or the other way around, and I’m the other pole again. You didn’t realise how that had changed every time you rested your head on my chest, held me close, and fell asleep like you’ve never felt this serene before. With each passing day, I kept falling harder, hoping to hit no ground. We’ve both been fragile and dysfunctional when it came to certain subjects, like you leaving this city, where we started. I tell you how I fail at love when it comes to a thousand miles of ground between two people. We both shed a tear, I hold you and we assure each other to find a solution. We steer clear from this discussion any time it incidentally comes up. Because yes, it’s painfully difficult. And because we still don’t have a way out of this maze. I tell you about my last love, everything about how beautiful it was while it lasted, and the sorrow, hurt, and anger that followed when it ended. I also tell you that I’ve been incapable of love, but a few weeks in and you make me realise that there was ample of love left in me, and it was just locked away in this dungeon that I didn’t know existed. With you, I felt wanted after a long time. Because of the way you look at me, and still don’t look away when I catch you. It’s your expressions every time I get dressed for an occasion, like it’s the first time you’re seeing me. It’s the way you hold me every time we meet, the way your eyes light up every time I genuinely smile, and I could go on and on.

I give you a disclaimer about my personality. About how I am more practical than emotional. About how I prioritize the brain over the heart. You tell me that’s completely alright, to maintain an equilibrium between the head and the emotions. Its crazy how you went along with however I was.

Not been the longest time, but this ship hit a real bad spot pretty quick. We came down to stage where we didn’t want to touch, hear or see each other, and that was a hard pill to swallow. We both messed up, hurt each other, said things, did things we never thought we would. It honestly felt like rock bottom, and I couldn’t stand it. We decided we needed space. That space turned into a void we knew we didn’t want to get vacuumed into, and that’s when we filled it, regardless of how bad it’d gotten, because we didn’t want to let go. We don’t care if we rushed into it. It still feels like the first day, the first time we touched, the first time he saw me cry, the first time we fought. But every time we went down, we came back up and I think that’s all that has mattered to me. He’s been my anchor, holding me steady and that’s all I want. I’ve held him in vulnerable times and it’s always been a two-way street. It may not always be fifty-fifty but that’s when you realise your worth, and I’ve known mine for four months now.

People when they see us together, that we’re an ideal millennial relationship and how they wish they could have the same. They think we’re perfect, they think we’re driving through a lustrous, and consistent road. What they fail to comprehend is, it’s the imperfections, the flaws, and the scars that we’re in love with, and that being in love isn’t a joyride, because us, together, we hit numerous obstacles on the way, but we learn how to conquer them, and we go together. We grow together. Some folks question our supposed perfection, because they think we rushed into us, and that its paradoxical for us to still be together, a few months down. I say, people, or even relationships for that matter, aren’t perfect. No one attains perfection, it’s the things you do to build moments that come close to perfection. It’s the feeling where you have no clue as to how long you have them right beside you, so you move mountains, or even pebbles, to make every second of it beautiful.

You mesmerize the person, you do everything in your power in order to keep them gratified. And when it takes an ugly turn, you make sure to steer in the right direction towards the road where there’s a sign that lets them know that you don’t want to let them go.

This isn’t my guide to a relationship. You may put in all your love from every fibre of your being and it still may end up being torn down. But that’s okay. People leave scars, but you heal them yourself. Love comes back, in another shape, with different hair, more beautiful eyes, and a soul deeper than the ocean, and when it does, I promise you won’t drown.    

[wildfloweroftheday]

5 July 2019

Selfheal - Prunella vulgaris

This perennial has upright flower stalks, sometimes very short in cut grass but taller if undisturbed. It has creeping, rooting stems and often forms a mat. It has a squarish flower head with reddish bracts and purple flowers. There are tiny hairs on the stems, leaves, flowers and bracts.