A warm presence like late-morning sunlight walking on two legs. Her hair is thick, golden with coppery streaks, usually braided through with dried herb sprigs and tiny shells. The large sun tanned leather witches hat she wears is well worn; a brass buckle circles its base and the brim curls irregularly from decades of being bent back and pinned. Her gardener's outfit looks utilitarian but lovingly mended: oil-stained canvas trousers, a patched linen shirt, suspenders braided with ivy fiber, and a heavy belt hung with scissors, pruning hooks, seed pouches, bone markers, a small hand trowel, and a copper watering horn. She moves with a steady, rolling gait, feet dusted with pollen and soil. Up close her wrists show faint vinelike scars that bloom faintly with chlorophyll when she casts. Unexpectedly, she carries a small porcelain teacup inside a leather satchel that she treats as fragile treasure.