Read by Matilda Longbottom

EEthan, a spirited ten-year-old with tousled brown locks, followed his grandpa, affectionately known as Pop, as they meandered through the lush expanse of their backyard garden. Pop, weathered by years under the sun, hummed a cheerful tune while inspecting plump tomatoes and ripe watermelons. But Ethan’s attention was captured by the riotous display of wildflowers peeking through the vegetable beds.

Pointing eagerly, Ethan asked, “What’s that, Pop?” indicating a radiant purple flower with velvety petals. Pop paused, his eyes crinkling with amusement. “Ah, that’s a verbena, champ. Makes a fine tea for a cough, brewed just right.”

Ethan’s curiosity soared. Tea for a cough? Not the usual yucky medicine from his dad’s sterile doctor’s office? This was intriguing! Unlike his dad, who dealt in pills and needles, Pop was a different kind of doctor – a doctor of the earth, fluent in the language of plants and their healing properties.

Every weekend, rain or shine, Ethan shadowed Pop, learning the names of his leafy companions, mastering the art of coaxing seeds to life, and unraveling the hidden powers they held. He discovered the soothing touch of aloe vera on scraped knees, the calming aroma of lavender banishing his nightmares, and the pain-relieving magic of willow-bark tea for his upset stomach. Soon, a small corner of Pop’s garden morphed into Ethan’s clandestine potion emporium. He meticulously gathered leaves and flowers, drying them like crisps under the sun before concocting colorful elixirs in his chipped enamel pot.

One sweltering Summer day, Mrs. Henderson, their kindly neighbor, shuffled over with a grimace of pain. “Ethan, dear,” she croaked. “My arthritis is acting up terribly. I can hardly hold a cup of lemonade!” Recalling Pop’s advice about “devil’s claw” for joint pain, Ethan dashed to his secret garden. With trembling hands, he brewed a potent tea, heart racing with anticipation. Summoning his courage, he offered Mrs. Henderson the steaming mug.

“You needn’t trouble yourself, sweetheart,” she protested, moved by his gesture. Ethan persisted, “Pop says this might help.” Tentatively, Mrs. Henderson sipped, the herb’s aroma permeating the air. Over the next hour, vitality returned to her fingers. She could grasp the mug, then a spoon, her smile of relief lighting up the porch. “Ethan, you’re a marvel! Bless your green thumbs!”

Word of Ethan’s “green medicine” spread like wildfire. Soon, townsfolk with ailments ranging from sore throats to pesky mosquito bites queued at his door. Initially hesitant, Ethan blossomed with each success, learning the nuances of herb proportions, attentively listening to each person’s woes, and offering a comforting word alongside his magical potions.

His dad, Dr. Matthews, initially skeptical of “herbal hocus pocus,” couldn’t ignore the joyous faces departing Ethan’s doorstep. One evening, after witnessing a grateful mother thank Ethan for easing her daughter’s sleep troubles, Dr. Matthews sat beside his son.

“Ethan,” he began, his voice gruff yet tinged with warmth. “Sometimes, us fancy doctors forget the wisdom of the old ways. Perhaps there’s room to blend what we do in the hospital with your garden knowledge.”

Ethan’s heart swelled with excitement. His dad’s words forged a bridge between their disparate worlds.

From that day forth, Ethan became that bridge. He established a miniature herb garden at his dad’s clinic, offering patients the choice of natural remedies alongside conventional medicine. To the younger patients, he became “Dr. Green Thumb,” imparting knowledge of plants and their virtues.

Yet, Ethan never strayed from the teachings of Pop’s weathered hands and the secrets whispered by rustling leaves. He understood that healing transcended pills and needles; it dwelled in the warmth of sunlight on his skin, the earthy embrace of soil under his nails, and the communion with the verdant world around him. He was a doctor, yes, but of a different ilk – a healer traversing a path paved with love, laughter, and the enchantment of plants. And sometimes, the most potent medicine wasn’t confined to a bottle but thrived in a vibrant garden nurtured by a curious boy and his sage grandfather. ❖