"I do not do this lightly," Fionan continued. "We need everyone now, with threats of attack. But you do not seem to contribute. The scriptorium needs ink. You will go into the hills. You will not return until you have filled three of the large sacks with leaves of woad." . . . "Abbot, the woad has already bloomed."
J.P. Moore (Autumn 2004 issue)