What is probably more strange (me being a bit of a health nut) – in all these years I have never investigated red clover. I was never curious as to why she wanted it or why she used it. And I certainly was not curious about it’s healthful properties.
Reading now, I realize that she was probably suffering the vagaries of menopause and was searching for help. No one talked about estrogen in those days. Women whispered of “the Change” as a way of blaming for behavior. If I had understood or payed attention it might have explained her volatility in those years. Her “craziness”.
What she was experiencing meant nothing to me then. I only cared as it affected my life.
I suppose that is still true. When I see Red Clover growing along the paths where I walk, I don’t think of how my mother was in my childhood. I just have the vague notion that if I only stopped to gather it, I would be rich.