Autumn's Bounty

After summer’s heat, the change in both daylight hours and temperature comes as an unwelcome shock. This year’s abundant harvest brings an added workload and also joy from the riot of colours flooding the land.

 Amongst hedgerows, reds of rosehip and haw shine brightly with subtle shades from bright red to deep crimson. In newly planted coppices, poisonous, pink spindle fruit and necklaces of woody nightshade entice the unwary visitor to touch where they should not.  High above, vermillion rowan and crampbark berries hang in tantalising bunches. Single crimson leaves drifting from cramp bark branches, thrust colour into fading grass.

I use a lot of hawthorn products during the year, making tinctures from flowers with vodka and haws with brandy. The brandy is a useful aid with motherwort tincture for unexpected heart palpitations. I gather ripe berries wherever I am, from trees along my field edges in the Cotswolds or my garden hedge in Solihull and this year I’ve been gifted with berries from Shropshire. Today I’ve been making hedgerow cordial and tomorrow I shall be experimenting with a new recipe for hawthorn ketchup.

Rosehips are an annual joy. These days, I rarely take the time to process the hips before drying. You should cut them in half with a sharp knife, then thoroughly deseed before putting to dry in a warm, airy place. The seeds and tiny hairs are very effective itching powder, but I usually dry my hips whole, so don’t have to worry about them. The only time I process is when I make a rosehip honey, which is truly delicious and worth all the extra trouble. This year, the hips are larger than I’ve ever seen them before, which makes picking a shorter task than normal.

Another red comes from apples. The harvest this year has been truly prodigious. The trees were pruned two years ago and have responded with larger fruit and incredible sweetness. It’s been a time for chutneys and jellies to store up for winter.

St John’s wort oil is another bright red influence on my life over the summer, sitting on the kitchen window ledge beaming scarlet rays when sun shines. The beginning of October is time to strain the flowers out of the oil and put it all away in a cold larder. The hot weather affected the amount of flowers I was able to pick this summer but thankfully, there is one jar of oil already strained, another in the windowsill, a small jar of mullein flowers infused with the St John’s wort flowers to make an effective ear ache oil and a small bottle of tincture in the larder.

Sunsets are an unexpected source of joy at this time of year. The blush of pink as the golden disk disappears over the horizon can deepen to  many shades of red over breath-taking moments as we stand mesmerised by the glorious colours. If we are very lucky, a short time later, the brilliant white of moonlight shines down to bless the earth from the opposite direction.

The other major colour of autumn is black: blackberries, elderberries and the deep black/purple lustre of a copious sloe harvest hiding behind the thorns of the blackthorn trees. Both blackberries and elderberries ripened in early August. Every year they appear weeks and now months before their normal harvest time and we have to rush to harvest and process before they disappear for another year.

We usually think of blackberries as something to put in desserts, either pies or puddings, but blackberries, like rosehips, are a good source of Vitamin C and can also act as an astringent along with cinnamon if you’re suffering with loose bowels that won’t respond to usual treatments. They make a delightful tea with other herbs such as Echinacea and elderberry, a pleasant immune enhancer to ward off any lurking virus. I’ve made two batches of blackberry vinegar this year, which is an ancient remedy for winter coughs and sore throats.

I continue to wax lyrical about elderberry and its anti-viral properties. Our favourite recipe is Elderberry Elixir is made with brandy and honey, taking at least two months to mature. I also freeze several boxes of elderberries if I can use for workshops or extra syrup if necessary. This year I’ve made a hedgerow cordial with the leftovers from strained elderberry elixir and freshly picked haws, hips and new spices. The result is very tasty and makes a good non-alcoholic alternative to mulled wine.

We should never forget gold and orange. Calendula flowers are prolific rays of sunshine to cheer everyone up after constant rain. Someone once told me she was convinced calendula was helpful in combating her winter blues and judging by the delight the flowers bring to everyone who sees them, I totally agree with her. The softness of the petals makes them a joy to harvest, while the resin coating your hands afterwards reminds you what you’ve been picking.

Many herb flowers take a long time to dry; the processing itself is an exercise in patience. It can take an entire October weekend to process herbs I’ve dried during the summer. This includes taking petals off all calendula flowers, spending up to two hours sitting at the kitchen table balancing a bowl on my lap before pouring them into their glass jars and hiding them from the light in paper bags. The prize is using the dried petals for tea during the darkest days, warding off infections and bringing enjoyment with every sip. They also make a fabulous double infused oil to add to homemade moisturising salves along with horse chestnut and marshmallow.

Gold is also found in the most unexpected places, hidden in roots of some of our most helpful plants. Goldenseal, useful for its action supporting mucous membranes is known for its golden roots, but dyers woodruff roots also shine with gold before offering up a red colour to the dye. Nettles, too, have tangled golden roots which, when processed, offer support and treatment to aging prostate glands.

Finally, there is always green. When the marshmallow in my garden starts to seed, I go down with my basket and strip stems of as many soft, green leaves and pale green seeds as I can. These make dark-green, silky oil to use for lubricating dry or diabetic skin and other hidden places. The dried leaves are kept for teas to sooth irritated bowels or dry lungs.

Violet leaves grow profusely during most of the year. Infused oil can be made with either fresh or dried. The oil comes out dark and green with no distinctive smell. This is another moisturising oil useful for chapped winter skin.

Every season has its own unique array of colours, shapes and scents. As sun sets to bring evening dusk, so brilliant colours of Autumn lead us towards both quiet and chaos of winter.

Much Ado About Lilac

 Lilac has always been part of my life. Growing up, there were three purple lilac trees in our garden and one double white lilac which bloomed slightly later than the others. I inherited two lilac bushes in our suburban garden, but they succumbed to the hedge trimmers for having the temerity to spoil straight lines! Last year, I suggested they be allowed to grow and this year, they have rewarded me with a few choice blooms which fill the air with scent as I walk past.

I’ve never considered lilac to have medicinal qualities or really to be used in food but this year I have learned otherwise. Having said that, it always worries me when none of the herbalists I trust make any mention of the plant, but there is always a first time and experimentation is a wonderful thing.

Lilac’s Latin name is Syringa vulgaris and the huge flower heads are known as racemes became each single flower has it own stem attached to the main stalk. Raceme was a completely new term to me before I became acquainted with black cohosh and Himalayan poke, but now it is more familiar.

The flowers symbolise new beginnings such as the return of spring and hope and, like blackberry flower essence, can assist with spiritual awakening. The scent can bring a sense of serenity, helping to purify an area or person and is also associated with youth.

As with all strongly scented flowers, they could be dried to make a potpourri or flower sachet or infused in honey or layered with sugar to use for baking.

Lilac is said to stimulate the digestive system, helping the process and reducing bloating. Lilac is an astringent, so can be made into a floral water to help soothe and tone irritated skin. It could also help quell insect bites, minor burns and rashes but I suspect I would use it in conjunction with my usual go to herbs for those conditions, plantain, chickweed and calendula, rather than relying just on the lilac.

This week saw us at the farm in a minor heatwave amidst a plethora of lilac blooms so there had to be a harvest and some experiments.

Lilac Floral Water

Remove all the flowers from several lilac blooms, enough to half fill a small saucepan (about 9-10). Cover with one pint of water (568ml). Bring the saucepan to the boil with the lid on and simmer gently for 15 minutes. Remove from the heat and leave overnight with the lid on. In the morning, strain and measure the volume of liquid. To that liquid, add one quarter volume of vodka. Pour everything into a clean bottle, seal, label and date. Store in a cool, dark place until needed. Drip the floral water onto the skin site or soak a small cloth or piece of cotton wool and leave on the site until cooled down. Can also use as a face wash.

Lilac Flower Honey Syrup

3 lilac blooms

250ml (1cup) water

150ml(5 fl. oz.) honey

Sterilised bottle or ice cube tray

Remove the lilac flowers from the raceme, taking care not to include the green stems which are bitter. Cover the flowers with water in a container and refrigerate for 24-48 hours. Strain the liquid and stir in the honey. Decant into sterilised jars and keep in the fridge or ice cube trays and freeze.

To be honest, I was very wary of this recipe because it used tap water for a long, cold infusion without any heating. A herbal tea only lasts for 24 hours and a decoction for 48hours. Lilac does have any anti-viral, antibiotic properties that I know of which would make the cold infusion completely safe. 

I left it covered in the fridge for 36 hours, After straining, the cold infusion did taste of lilac but was completely colourless, but the flavour was very subtle. I then tried to mix in the amount of runny honey, which didn’t mix well. As I always sterilise bottles in the oven on 100 degrees C for ten minutes, there was no way I was going to add a cold liquid to hot glass, so I heated the honey/water infusion until it began to steam, then poured it into the bottle and sealed. Tasting the remainder in the saucepan, the only taste is honey, as I was expecting, so I won’t be doing this again.

I still had loads of lilac bloom remaining, so I decided to make my own kind of syrup/cordial. I had some lemon rind left after using the juice for icing and some squashed, ancient clementines, so they were used within the recipe as well.

Lilac Citrus Cordial

2 lemons

1 lime

2 clementines

12 lilac blooms

20 sprigs lemon balm chopped with scissors

2 pints (1.136litres) water

2lbs (907g) sugar

Remove the flowers from the lilac blooms and place in a large bowl with the chopped lemon balm. Slice the citrus fruits and add to the bowl. Pour the water and sugar into a saucepan and heat, stirring gently until the sugar has all dissolved and the liquid just reaches boiling point. Pour the sugar water over the bowl of flowers and fruit and stir. Cover and leave overnight in a cool place. The following day sterilise sufficient bottles to hold the amount of strained liquid. I needed six small bottles. The plastic lids were boiled in a saucepan for ten minutes. Heat the liquid until it just reaches boiling point and pour into the hot, sterilised bottles. Seal immediately. When cool, label and date. Store in a cool, dark place. Once opened, keep in the fridge.

To serve, add a small amount of cordial to a glass and fill with cold water. Adjust the strength to suite your own taste. We found it delicious and very refreshing.

It’s wonderful to find a new flower you can add to your repertoire and I shall look forward to using lilac in future years.

 

The Enduring Pledge launches on 5th April 2025

 

When William Brazington, Earl of Haverliegh, is granted lands associated with Roelswick Priory after the Restoration of the Monarchy in 1660, his family agrees a hidden contract with local communities. This relationship threatens to collapse at the beginning of the twentieth century following the disappearance of the Blacksmith’s sister, heralding danger for all young women working at the Priory. Can village folk come together to save the girls and their heritage?

Half a century later, strong leaders are needed to resolve strange Priory hauntings before they can rescue Peter, the last of the Brazington heirs, from war-torn oblivion.

The Enduring Pledge is the second book in the Roelswick Chronicles. Set deep in the heart of the Cotswolds, it charts the story of a rural village where modern and ancient practices work side by side.

Where past beliefs inform present customs, touching the lives of all villagers, we understand how a single pledge binds everyone together for support and responsibility.

For everyone who read A Necessary Blessing, this second book tells the story of how Anvil and Granny rose to their positions within the village. There are more ghosts, more mystery and another love story.

The paperback and Kindle will be available from Amazon from April 4th with a book launch in Solihull on April 5th.