From inside the stuffy minivan I've been gazing at the chicory which blooms by the side of the highways, wanting to get my grubby paws on it. I finally came across some I could access with convenience, behind a dry cleaners next to the Patuxet River, growing near a dumpster giving off a smell worse than anything I've smelled in Brooklyn. Proof that the city doesn't own stink.
Back to beauty. I just experienced one of those great wikipedia neural expansions reading about this plant, a motif German romantics RAN WITH. I won't bother you with a summary, which would be inadequate, and since I'm feeling too feklempt tonight anyway to try. I'll just mention my favorite part; in European folklore this plant was believed to have the ability open locked doors.
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