Along the
country lanes of
Europe grows the starry-flowered plantain,
clinging to the
verges of the paths as if seeking
human company. The
Germans of old times called the plantain Wegewarte, or "watcher of the road," and in that name lies the story of its
genesis.
A maiden left her village one night and followed a path into the a wood to meet her lover. He never came to her. Throughout the night, she waited for the sound of his footsteps, but all she heard was the hooting of the owls and the sigh of the wind in the trees, and in the small hours, she began to weep.
Finally, she lay by the path and died. The sun rose. All around her body, green shoots began to grow. By noon, pale blossoms had threaded their way through the dark strands of her hair. By evening, the body had vanished into a mass of tiny flowers. They haunt roadsides still, keeping a vigil for a lover who never appears.