From Stinging, Sweetness

Every February for the past four years, ever since I lost my last job, I walk to a park where nettles grow wild, carrying kitchen scissors, a paper bag, and gloves if I remembered them, and fill the bag. (Cropped nettles grow back quickly.) When I’m stung, I swear. The pain vanishes after twenty minutes. The nettles smell rich and green in their bag, a …