It paid to collect those leaves, so the Harvester hastily stripped the amount he wanted.
Yarrow was beginning to bloom and he gathered as much as he required, taking the whole plant.

That only brought a few cents a pound, but it was used entire, so the weight made it worth while.
Catnip tops and leaves were also ready.

As it grew in the open in dry soil and the beds had been weeded that spring, he could gather great arm loads of it with a sickle, but he had to watch the swarming bees.

He left the male fern and mullein until the last for different reasons.
On the damp, cool, rocky hillside, beneath deep shade of big forest trees, grew the ferns, their long, graceful fronds waving softly.

Tree toads sang on the cool rocks beneath them, chewinks nested under gnarled roots among them, rose-breasted grosbeaks sang in grape-vines clambering over the thickets, and Singing Water ran close beside.