Anyone trying to discover what I was up to by following my
blog this summer would have been sorely disappointed. A dearth of posts resulted
from a plethora of stress, knitting and gales (although not necessarily in that
order!). Now the autumn equinox has passed and life has quietened just a
little I can look backwards and forwards to various herbal exploits.
The weather has been atrocious. There is no other word for
it. No sun, no warmth and almost continuous rain. I really thought I would not
be gathering anything but I was wrong. It may be small and not as rich as I’d
like but there is a harvest and I am grateful.
I have gathered rose petals whenever and wherever I can.
There are jars of rose elixir, rose vinegar and rose honey infusing in the
larder and two large jars stuffed full of dried petals waiting for autumn or
winter inspiration. I also discovered a beautiful bag full of apothecary’s
rosebuds dried to perfection. I’d picked them after one of the summer workshops
when I felt sure I’d lose the entire crop because of the rain. They smell
amazing and I’m looking forward to using them in some ashwagandha milk over the
winter.
The calendula crop was initially disappointing. I blamed
myself for not supervising the apprentices who sowed the seed then I blamed the
weather. I picked yellow and orange flowers and began to be grateful for the
limited bounty I was able to gather. We even made a double infused oil from wet
flowers – something I never thought I’d do – and yes, it was paler than usual,
but not without merit. You have to use what you have when you can.
I was also incredibly grateful for the self -seeded row of
plants which offered a rich and healthy crop of flowers without any thought or
effort from me. When I went down to the Sanctuary last Tuesday, both calendula
beds were looking the best I’d seen them all year and I was able to pick a
large basketful of flowers and a whole pile of seeds for next spring.
One of the things I’ve tried to do this year is not panic.
Ok, there were very few St John’s wort flowers in my garden. I have given away
so many plants, the marjoram has completely overwhelmed the few I have left. Bees adore the marjoram. Luckily there have
been plenty of flowers at the Sanctuary and, even more exciting; I found a real
sufficiency of small wild plants when I was foraging in Cornwall. There were enough
blossoms to dry for our German friend who can’t use alcohol. They grew next to ragwort,
so you really had to be able to identify your plants to wildcraft in safety.
The St John’s wort oil is not as crimson this year as others
but that’s ok. I still have loads left from other years so I don’t think I’ll
run out and there’s always next year.
There have been a lot of plants I have not harvested this
year, ladies mantle and agrimony being but two. I don’t know either of them
well enough, so maybe next year I shall choose a new ally to get up close and
personal with. Anne MacIntyre’s comments about agrimony’s digestive properties
have already got me thinking. I’d like to be able to tie them in with its
energetic properties and Matthew Wood’s use for pain where there is
tightness/contraction.
Even when I was so miserable and frustrated because of the
weather and my mother’s deterioration, the Sanctuary still held me and gave me
hope.
I was picking St John’s wort flowers in a howling gale one August
afternoon, thinking how dreadful everywhere looked because we hadn’t been able
to mow or weed.The hops completely sheltered me from the wind and the
message in my head was, “Never be ashamed of what you have.”
It made me realise
I don’t have to compare myself with other herbalists. Just because they have stunningly
beautiful, manicured gardens with easily identified and labelled herbs, it
doesn’t mean my piece of land is any less valuable or beautiful, it’s just
different.
It was one of those days when nothing went right, but when I
touched one of the oak trees it told me to “remain steadfast”. I don’t spend
enough time talking to my trees but they are always generous with their support
and advice when I do listen.
It’s sad to see branches so bare this Autumn. Oak trees
covered with knopper galls instead of acorns. Apple, plum, pear, meddler and
quince trees devoid of fruit. Even the sloes, damsons and haws are scarce. I
guess the trees are resting after last year’s bumper crops but it’s still
difficult to see empty spaces in the freezer and know they won’t be filled
anytime soon. I’m grateful for our Autumn raspberries which are cropping for
the first time this year – not enough for jam but a real dessert delight mixed
with natural yoghurt and honey.
I’ve already wildcrafted two baskets of windfall apples in
public spaces this year, one in Cornwall and one locally and I can see me hunting
for more in the coming weeks to turn into jams or jellies. It’s frustrating
that none of the rosehips I’ve found are ripe yet as I want to restock my dried
hips this year. I’ve already made one batch of elderberry and blackberry
cordial from fruit leftover after my festival workshop and a muslin bag of “hedgerow
juice (sloes, blackberries and elderberries)” is currently dripping quietly
into a bowl over the cooker top as I type. Tomorrow I shall turn it into jelly
to add to our growing stock of preserves.
The hot cupboard in the kitchen is still full to the brim
with paper bags drying herbs and seeds plus a few infusing vinegars. It has
taken weeks to process dried herbs from bags into glass jars on my larder
shelves but the kitchen table is finally clear. Only one of my ashwagandha
plants has produced the familiar red cherries this year but there will be
plenty of seed for next spring. I also managed to save lettuce seed from plants
which bolted; the first time I’ve done this.
As I was looking at my French beans flowering in the new
raised beds today, I noticed chickweed was growing again to be added to
autumnal salads. There are still bright green nettle seeds to harvest and dry
towering over the mint and raspberry canes and fresh nettles are taunting me to
make soup from underneath the patio.
Everywhere I look there is something to gladden my heart and
prompt gratitude. It would not be real life if bounty were not balanced by lean
times. It is all part of the cycle of life and death and rebirth. We could not
learn if we did not experience and could not grow if those experiences did not
feed us and grant us riches. We do not always appreciate the lessons we are
offered but they make us who we are.
