Irina presses her aching knee to a larch tree, beseeching its silent strength to grant her health and vitality.

Irina and Anna, biological sisters, were raised in different households. In their childhood, they shared not only a family but also a surname — Vasiliev. Alongside them was their elder brother, Nikolai. In the early 1950s, across from their home resided another family, the Prokopyevs, who faced the agony of losing their offspring soon after birth. In desperation, the family patriarch, Pyotr Prokopyev, consulted a local sage, who advised him to adopt a child from another lineage — a path to ensure the survival of his own progeny. Thus, after a conversation with Dmitry Vasiliev, the head of the Vasiliev family, Pyotr adopted Irina, the younger daughter. This act forged a divide in the sisters' identities, with Irina becoming Irina Petrovna Prokopyeva and Anna remaining Anna Dmitrievna Vasilieva. In time, the Prokopyev family welcomed children of their own, yet they continued to nurture Irina with kindness and love. Despite her new circumstances, Irina maintained a bond with her blood relatives, always aware of her lineage.

Irina’s house stands at the village's entrance, affording a view of the main road that leads to the federal highway. From her window, she observes all who arrive: taxis, postal vans, bread trucks, or familiar faces. The village of Betyung is located 565 km from Yakutsk, 59 km from the regional center of Vilyuysk and 12 km from the federal highway. A greater distance from the highway provides silence from motor transport, greater cleanliness.

A neighbor gifts Irina fresh crucian carp. Hunters and fishermen often share their bounty with her.

Locals gather at the butter-making station, a hub for exchanging milk for butter or sour cream. More than a place of trade, it serves as a social nexus for the elderly, where news and stories are shared. The village of Betyung is home to just over 400 residents.

Irina purchases sour cream at the butter station.

Irina always uses the same bucket to collect medicinal plants. Irina's equipment also includes old Soviet scissors, a small hatchet for collecting branches and tree bark.

Irina gathers medicinal herbs along the banks of the Byrakan River

A portrait of Irina in her balagan (a traditional Yakut hut)

Irina raised her son alone after her husband left shortly after the child’s birth.

Wherever Irina goes, she carries her walking stick, a steadfast companion.

The yellow blooms of tansy rest in Irina’s hands.

Irina would take me into the forest, teaching me the names and properties of plants, weaving stories of humanity’s deep connection with nature. Even now, walking through the city, I recite the names of plants I recognize.

Kazbek, the neighbor’s loyal dog, watches a squirrel in the forest. He always accompanied Irina on her woodland journeys around Betyung.

Cow skulls lie scattered near the site of cattle slaughter.

Irina offers food to the spirits of nature before traveling to Lake Sordonnok, ensuring a safe journey there and back.

A lone cow stands amidst the smoke of a forest fire.

The last day of haymaking that summer. After stacking a great mound of hay, Irina and Anna rest. Bottles of ordinary tea warm under the sun.

My cousin Alexei lends a hand in clearing hay on our family estate.

Anna and Irina in the fields during the hay harvest. In the late 1990s, after the death of Nikolai, Anna invited Irina to reside with her. Together, they shared a home, dividing household chores — Anna tended to the cows while Irina maintained the house and continued her studies of medicinal herbs. Each summer, they laboriously gathered hay, a task both challenging and rewarding. Though they often clashed in their philosophies, at times even cooking separate soups for lunch, they recognized the strength found in shared existence.

The village's origin is told in this story: In the 17th century, a warrior and his son fled internecine strife in the Amga lands, having lost nearly their entire family. After a long journey, they found refuge here and founded a settlement.

After school, Irina attended a teacher’s college and became a teacher of the Russian language. In the early 1960s, Irina fell gravely ill, beset by debilitating headaches and unable to rise. During this era, many in the villages succumbed to tuberculosis contracted from livestock. After seven months in the hospital, she learned of a traditional Yakut healer, Nikon Alekseyevich Vasilyev, and implored her adoptive father to take her to him. Under the shadow of Soviet repression against healers and shamans, the journey required utmost secrecy. In spring, Pyotr Prokopyev took his daughter first by horse to Vilyuysk, and then across the Tyung River by boat, where she met Nikon near his yurt. After treatment, her health improved, but Nikon insisted she return in summer, precisely when the birch leaves shine. He believed this was when the healing herbs reached their peak potency. Their second meeting marked the completion of her healing. During their third encounter in 1980, Nikon discerned a special affinity Irina possessed for nature, imparting to her the knowledge of medicinal plants. Thus began her lifelong reverence for nature, leading her to discover her true path. Nikon passed away in 1984 at the venerable age of 104.

Anna began work as a dairymaid at 12 years old, continuing this toil throughout her life. Once a young athlete, she was gored by a bull while milking a cow, leaving her with a lifelong limp. In 2017 Anna passed away. When I visit, I sleep in the room that once belonged to Anna. Occasionally, my grandmother asks if I dream of Anna. For a long time, Anna remained elusive in dreams until one day, she appeared — sitting quietly without a word, yet radiating warmth and a sun-kissed glow. "This means she is well," my grandmother reassured me, a testament to the enduring bond even after life's final curtain.

Irina rests in the balagan during the day, where light filters through small windows.