Burdock

I gave the matter some grave thought, and realized that after last night’s martini party there was nothing in my icebox except a bit of baking soda, a scrap of blueberry jam and a twig of burdock root.

Miss Lenni Jabour, The Story of The Third Floor (December 2002 edition)

I remember playing with burrs (the flowers of the burdock plant) as a kid on walks through the woodlots near my parents’ place, but hadn’t thought much further about them until seeing the text quoted above in Lenni’s story today. The things you’ll learn from reading (with a dash of Google):

I think I’ve found a project for when I go home at Christmas. It’s been a while since I was back in those woods….