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.

‘Tis the season

With the arrival of the third month of the year, things are starting to move. The quince tree is coming out in leaf. The elder leaves were possibly the first to appear but I wasn’t there to watch them. The blackcurrant bushes are bursting. Spring in finally springing. The snowdrops have seeded, the early daffodils have been waving in the breeze for a month and the main show are blooming.

Sweet violets have been spreading their scented wonder since late January in my garden. We made a violet syrup at the February workshop with a round of “Ooohs” as the lemon juice turned the turquoise liquid pink. I searched for the white violet last Saturday in the nooks and crannies of the Sanctuary bank but although the leaves were present, there was no sign of the flowers.

We have been working at the Sanctuary on the few dry days in between the constant rain. We held our first Wassail on January 6^th; serenading the trees and gifting them with bread soaked in cider after a day of pruning and ivy clearance.

At the end of February we began the winter clear up. Wild cherry and crampbark trees were pruned, the large haul of twigs divided between four to debark at a later date. Half a ‘boot load’ was delivered to the Little Bird herbal apothecary in Shipston on Stour, the rest dried or made into tincture.

There are still untouched bottles of crampbark tincture in my larder from previous years, so I processed wild cherry for over an hour before my hands were too sore to do any more. It yielded three trays of bark for drying and those have filled two large jars to store for later.

A week ago, when my writers group were finalising details for our belated Christmas curry meetup, I received an email asking if I’d got any spare cough syrup. It seemed an ideal time to try out the new cherry bark, so the morning was spent decocting cherry bark, hyssop, mullein, sage, thyme and marshmallow leaves, elecampane and astralagus root and rosehips. The first five ingredients were aimed at the cough, the marshmallow to soothe any inflamed tissue and the last two to boost the immune system and Vitamin C levels. I tend to throw rosehips into any kind of winter syrup, ‘just because’.

After straining and measuring the liquid and cleaning out the pan, I let it evaporate for an hour or so, but didn’t have the patience to reduce it by 7/8ths, as you should with a medicinal syrup. After adding the same weight of sugar as the remaining volume of liquid, it made 4 jars of cough syrup and the recipient was delighted. The rest of the group received home made marmalade, made at the beginning of February.

After years of treading water thanks to Covid and various bereavements, we are now making plans and moving forward. Last year’s apprentices have settled into a community and brought a new set to join them this year. They spent Saturday’s workshop picking nettles for ChristopherHedley’s nettle iron tonic, all of them armed with thick gloves against the Sanctuary’s particularly vicious variety.

While the women used secateurs, the men took up pick axes and crowbars to remove roots from unwanted trees to make space for levelling the ground to receive flagstones for a new shed we’re intending to erect.

The bramble hedge which hasn’t been touched for the past three years and was threatening to engulf both the path and eventually the summer house was also given a serious haircut. Roots were dug up from the identifying shoots and I brought home a full basket of leftovers, which were duly washed yesterday morning, left to air dry overnight and this morning have been left in my kitchen hot cupboard to macerate with cider vinegar for three weeks. They still fought back, despite the scissors and secateurs brought in to subdue them! My previous bottle of bramble root vinegar, made around 2005, is almost empty. I’m looking forward to another full bottle in the larder to deal with digestive anxiety and upset tummies.

I have a whole article on “What to do with bramble”, written in 2015. I’ve also discovered Sally Pointer and Alex Langland’s YouTube videos on how to make bramble runner cordage. The apprentices seem keen to experiment but I’ve suggested we wait until summer when both nettles and brambles will be softer and more malleable.

This Wednesday will see my first public talk on holy wells and sacred water. I’m sure there will be a few herbs thrown in for good measure along the way.

Cooling summer drinks

Many years ago I was asked to submit an article on summer beverages to a magazine. This summer, in the intense heat, I’ve been making more cordials and tweaking some of the recipes, so I thought I would bring the article to my blog audience.

When I was a child, on one hot day each year, my mother would make real lemonade from sliced lemons marinated overnight in a sugar solution and chilled. Summer was the busiest time of the farming year, so we rarely went on holiday. Instead we were left to our own devices while our parents brought in the harvest and looked after livestock.

The lemonade tasted so different from our normal commercial blackcurrant cordial. We were never allowed fizzy drinks because my grandmother once worked for a grocer as a governess. The business made their own carbonated cordials and having seen the process, she disapproved of paying for carbon dioxide piped into flavoured sugar water.

Now we ae subjected to flavoured water with many, questionable additives, sometimes forgetting we have the knowledge and resources to make our own. Yes, they include sugar, but sugar is a natural preservative and you only ingest a very small amount with lots of water.

Last weekend, we helped with a fundraising weekend for a primary school in Mali. I provided a table full of herb and vegetable plants and a box of elderflower and ginger cordial. The cordial was offered as a taster and all the bottles sold.

Elderflower and ginger cordial

10-20 heads of fresh, creamy elderflowers

4 lemons

2 oranges

A large chunk of ginger root (approx. 1-1.5 inches/3.8cm)

2pints/1.2 litres water

2lbs/0.9kgs granulated sugar (or use 1kgsugar:1litre water)

Place the sugar in the water in a saucepan and bring to the boil, stirring until all the sugar is dissolved. While the water is heating, place the elderflowers in a large bowl and cut the zest off the oranges and lemons and add to elderflowers. Cut the ends off the citrus fruit and discard, then slice and add to contents of bowl. Peel the ginger root and dice into small pieces before adding to the bowl.

Pour the boiling sugar syrup over the elderflowers and citrus fruits. Cover the bowl and place in a cool place for 24 hours. I put a plate on the top of the bowl to keep the citrus fruit submerged in the syrup. After 24 hours strain (eat the orange slices – they are amazing!). Strain twice more using either muslin or kitchen paper. Makes 4 pints of cordial. Pour into sterilized glass jars or plastic jars and freeze. Keep in the fridge and dilute to taste. It tastes good with fizzy water. Serve diluted in glass jugs with slices of lemon and a sprig of mint.

To extract the maximum from your flowers and fruit, pour boiling water over the discarded solids in a bowl to cover and place in the fridge until cold. Strain the contents and drink the now diluted cordial.

Below,  I have used my childhood memory of lemonade but perfected it by adding some of the sun-drenched herbs in my garden and hedgerows.

Rose and lemon balm cordial

5-6 strongly scented roses (I used a mixture of Apothecary’s Rose, William Shakespeare and Gertrude Jekyll)

20 lemon balm stems

4 flowering stems of self-heal

4 lemons

2 lbs of sugar

2 UK pints (20fl oz) of water

Remove the leaves from the lemon balm stems and the leaves and flower stalks from the self-heal and place in a large bowl. Chop into small pieces with scissors. Add all the rose petals and mix. Remove the ends of the lemon and cut into slices. Add these slices to the herbs. Measure the sugar and cold water and place in a saucepan on the heat. Bring to the boil stirring all the time with a long wooden spoon. Pour the sugar syrup carefully into the bowl. Cover with a suitably sized dinner plate so all the plant material is submerged under the syrup. Place the bowl in a cool larder or fridge overnight. You will see that the syrup has turned pink by the following morning. Remove the dinner plate and strain the syrup into a jug. Squeeze the plant material well to remove as much syrup as possible. If you want to maximise your syrup, return the squeezed plant matter to the bowl and cover with cold water. Mix well then strain again and drink. (This should provide your first taste of the cordial at a strength ready for imbibing.)

Pour your rose syrup either into sterilized glass bottles or clean plastic bottles and immediately freeze. The glass bottles should be sealed, labelled and dated and kept in the fridge once open. Dilute to taste with still or sparkling water.

One of my garden beds is overrun with Swiss mint. The flavour is too strong and metallic for mint sauce but it makes a wonderful mint vinegar and mint and lemon honey which can be combined for an oxymel. I thought I would experiment to see what a Swiss mint cordial would taste like. It was a great success!

Mint and lemon balm cordial

20-30 long stems of mint picked before flowering

10 stems of lemon balm

4 lemons

2lbs sugar

2 UK pints (20fl oz) of water

Remove leaves from mint and lemon balm, place in a large bowl and chop into small pieces with scissors. Remove the ends of the lemon and cut into slices. Add these slices to the herbs. Measure the sugar and cold water and place in a saucepan on the heat. Bring to the boil stirring all the time with a long wooden spoon. Pour the sugar syrup carefully into the bowl. Cover with a suitably sized dinner plate so all the plant material is submerged under the syrup. Place the bowl in a cool larder or fridge overnight. Remove the dinner plate and strain the syrup into a jug. Squeeze the plant material well to remove as much syrup as possible. If you want to maximise your syrup, return the squeezed plant matter to the bowl and cover with cold water. Mix well then strain again and drink. (This should provide your first taste of the cordial at a strength ready for imbibing.)

 

Pour your mint syrup either into sterilized glass bottles or clean plastic bottles and immediately freeze. The glass bottles should be sealed, labelled and dated and kept in the fridge once open. Dilute to taste with still or sparkling water.

Don't forget that mint oxymel (2tsps infused mint cider vinegar with 2tsps infused mint honey diluted with cold water in a glass or mug) has been a summer cooling drink since before the first Crusaders brought the recipe back to Europe. 

One of the strangest summer recipes I came across was for a 1947 cough/throat remedy made from roses and nettles served with milk. I was dubious fresh nettles could be found at the same time roses were blooming but if you keep your nettle patch well harvested, there will be young growth available when you pick your roses.

The syrup can also be made from dried nettles and rose petals if you need a fix in the dead of winter.

If you want to maximise the mineral content of your syrup, macerate the nettles in cold water overnight maybe adding red clover and/or sweet violet leaves or heartsease aerial parts. If you’re looking for a soothing cough remedy, then try adding marshmallow leaves to the maceration. If you want to enhance the nervine/spirit lifting effect of the roses, add Ashwaganda roots to the maceration. (Basically, the possibilities are endless!)

Nettle rose milkshake syrup

A large bowlful of young nettles/nettle tops

Other medicinal herbs suitable for cold maceration (see above)

Cold water

7 deeply scented red roses

2lbs sugar

Place the nettles in a bowl (and other herbs) and cover with cold water. Cover and leave overnight in a cool place. The next morning tip the entire contents of the bowl into a large saucepan. Cover and bring to the boil. Simmer for twenty minutes then strain the liquid into a jug, discard the herbal matter and wash the saucepan thoroughly. Measure the liquid, return it to the saucepan, bring to the boil and simmer uncovered on a low heat until the liquid measures 2 UK pints (20 fl.ozs). Add the sugar and all the rose petals. Bring back to the boil simmering and stirring for approximately 15 minutes until the sugar has dissolved and the rose petals have given up their colour to the syrup. Strain off the rose petals and pour the hot syrup into hot, sterilized bottles. Seal, label and date. Allow to cool. Add to a glass of cold milk an amount to give your desired level of sweetness. (The original recipe says 1 tsp per glass but I like 1 tblsp!) Store opened bottles of syrup in the fridge. Unopened bottles should be ok in the larder or a cool cupboard.

When you have a garden or open space full of herbs, there is nothing better than wandering around with your gathering basket and a pair of scissors in the cool of the evening collecting flowers from different plants to create a unique elixir.

Uplifting elixir

Rose petals

St Johns wort flowers

Borage flowers

Evening primrose flowers

Ox-eye daisy flowers

2 lavender flower heads

Self-heal flower stalks and leaves

Lemon balm leaves

Alpine strawberry leaves

Runny honey

Brandy

Strip all leaves from stems and place inside a jam jar. Chop leaves into small pieces with scissors. Add flowers to the jam jar. The amount of uncut leaves and flowers should loosely fill the jar. Carefully pour in runny honey until the jar is half full. Stop pouring several times and stir mixture with a chopstick to remove any air bubbles. Fill jar to the top with brandy, mixing everything together with a chopstick. Seal the jar, label and date. Leave in a cool, dark place for 4-6 weeks. Strain and use as required. Dosage is 1 dropperful at a time up to 4 times a day. (Not suitable for children under 12 but you could make a soothing cordial using the same plants maybe increasing the lemon balm, adding chamomile and omitting the roses and SJW)

So many herbs offer us a myriad of wonderful combinations to enhance our lives not only in summer but all year round.

A New Year and New Apprentices

 At the last festival in September, my arm was twisted to re-start the Springfield Sanctuary Apprenticeship. Eight people applied and we had our first workshop in my kitchen last Saturday. As always, it was great fun and the participants learned about five different barks, then went out into the garden, tasted chickweed and bittercress and dug up two mullein florets to make their own tinctures for straightening spines.

The wonderful thing about herbwifery is its intense practicality. There are books to read and issues to discuss, but it is all about getting out, digging and making herbal preparations from whatever it is you have harvested.

Mullein florets are a perfect example. Their leaves are so soft and beautifully coloured. It’s no wonder they were used as toilet paper in ancient times. They also absorb a lot of moisture, so several tea towels were used to dry them off.

The roots were scrubbed and chopped before being divided into five parts so everyone could make a mixed root and leaf tincture. It will be interesting to see what happens because, ordinarily, the leaves precipitate too much mucilage when alcohol is added, but I suspect these will be fine because of the amount of water they held which will dilute the vodka to a suitable level.

I thought I would share one of the tasks I set new apprentices each month. In January, they are asked to walk around their local area looking for certain trees/bushes to map – hawthorn, elder, wild cherry and dog rose.

The aim of the exercise is to become aware of your surroundings. Even in the middle of a city, there will still be plants and trees growing on the roadside or in the pavement cracks. When I had to walk through central Sheffield on a regular basis, I found an elder tree growing out of a derelict building and would monitor its growth cycles for six years.

If you look hard enough there will be fragments of field hedges and the odd ditch where hazel catkins are starting to wave in the breeze.

Maybe some of you reading this blog might like to map your locality along with the apprentices. Take pictures of what you find and make sure you know where the useful plants and trees can be found.

I have put the dates for all the monthly workshops on the relevant page and if anyone would like to join us, you'd be most welcome.

 

What helps bruises?

Many years ago, I was talking to a family member about herbs which help with bruising when my husband’s nephew interjected, “Why do you bother, the body deals with bruising all by itself.”

Our nephew is a doctor and not interested in herbs. I’d forgotten he was nearby when I began the conversation but his question made me stop and think. Why would we intervene in a situation which will resolve itself given enough time?

Bruises happen. When we knock against something, fall over, damage to our skin or underlying tissue results in two major actions within the body. The damaged cells are removed and new cells are created to take their place. We can see this as the damaged area changes colour, becomes inflamed, maybe hot to the touch and/or swollen and we feel pain if we try to touch the damaged area.

Sometimes the trauma causes damage to underlying structures, not just soft tissue. Cartilage may be torn, ligaments damaged, bones broken or fractured or blood vessels severed. In such cases, trips to A&E are always advised to diagnose through x-ray, CT scan or MRI exactly what has occurred. Similarly, if there is any hint of abuse, professional help must be sought so accurate records and evidence can be acquired and the victim offered safety.

Head, neck and back injuries, especially those where spinal damage is suspected are other areas where expert advice must be sought since the first hour post event is the most crucial in preventing life-changing effects. The patient must not be moved except by experts.

Having said all this, bruises remain and there are several plants which can provide help and support to the body to assist in the healing process.

There are two herbs which stay at the top of my first aid provisions. Yarrow (achillea millefolium), because of its anti-inflammatory properties and, as Jim Macdonald said, “yarrow knows what to do with blood.” My other go-to is plantain, both narrow leaf and greater (plantago lanceolata and p. major). It’s drawing properties help to ensure the damaged area doesn’t have any foreign objects, it helps with cell production and has the ability to retain moisture in dry tissues.

These two herbs are usually given as a poultice or salve and also internally as part of a tincture or tea, depending on whether the patient can tolerate alcohol.

The third herb I use externally is comfrey. It’s speedy cell-rejuvenation means this is not one to be applied within the first 24-36 hours, as it can regrow skin cells over dirt or fuse bone before it has been correctly set. After that time, it is really useful.

These three herbs form my “old wound” salve because they will also deal with bruises which refuse to heal or leave unwelcomed scars. Their power has also been proved on the energetic level as one of my apprentices uses them as a tea and a smudge to help resolve/come to terms with emotional scars left from childhood abuse, especially when the abuser is no longer alive. She has also used them as a tea with hawthorn and linden when setting up or strengthening boundaries.

If the bruise is involved with connective tissue, Solomon seal (polygonatum multiflorum) is another herb to add to the mix. American herbalists David Winston, Matthew Wood and Jim MacDonald have written at length how helpful Solomon Seal can be with rejuvenating joints, cartilage, connective tissue and tendons in conjunction with agrimony. Agrimony (agrimonia eupatorium) is there not only because it has styptic qualities like yarrow, but also helps with pain due to constriction.

Dylan Warren-Davies, writing as “A Welsh Herbal” on Facebook says “Solomons Seal is traditionally ruled by Saturn, which like comfrey, makes the herb valuable in treating musculoskeletal injuries. In combination with other Saturnine herbs like horsetail and mullein root as an infusion it can speed recovery of sprains, strains and broken bones. It also has been used to apply topically to remove bruising.”

I thought this use of Solomon seal was relatively recent, so it came as quite a shock to read J Arthur Gibbs describing a visit to an old gentleman in his “A Cotswold Village” who reeled off a list of herbs for different ailments including “Solomon seal for bruising”. The book was published in 1898, it’s thirty year old author dying the next year following an unsuccessful hernia operation complicated by an undiagnosed heart condition.

Given that Solomon seal is a North American native, it made me wonder whether its properties were introduced to the UK along with other Thomsonian doctrines, but the UK usage was well-known to both Culpepper and Parkinson so would have been embedded in village herbal lore. Bruton-Seal also notes Gerard’s misogynistic comment that it was useful for bruising “from fals or women’s wilfulness in stumbling on their hastie husband’s fists”!

The other herb well-known for bruises is elder leaves (Sambucus niger) but I have been using the infused bark oil for the same purpose with very good results. This came about because I needed something for bruising in the middle of winter when no leaves of any plant were visible. It worked for me, so I added it to the apprentice tasks and they all reported how quickly the bark oil reduced bruising.

One of the forgotten herbs which I have been adding to my bruise and joint tinctures is bugle (Ajuga reptens). In Culpepper’s day it was well known for falls and inward bruises for dissolving congealed blood. Parkinson recommended it for broken bones and dislocated joints but by the late 19^th century it had fallen out of favour.

My knowledge and use came from Julie Bruton Seal and Mathew Seal in their book, “Wayside Herbs”. I happened to be walking into the Birmingham Botanical Gardens for a Herbal History Society seminar some years ago and met Julie in the car park. She was telling me enthusiastically about bugle when we met up with one of the speakers, Christina Stapley.

Christina was in such pain from her shoulder that she didn’t think she would be able to deliver her presentation. Julie had a bottle of bugle tincture in her handbag and persuaded Christina to let her rub it on the affected area. Twenty minutes later, the pain was gone and Christina’s session was by far the best one of the whole day!

I made my first tincture that year from bugle harvested from Buckland churchyard, next to the manor house where my great-grandmother was brought up. The plant then emerged at the Sanctuary and has grown there energetically ever since. Julie notes its use for realigning joints, especially the spine and releasing trapped nerves. I’ve been adding it to all my joint tinctures and have noticed it has very positive effects in reducing “bile dumps”, which is an added digestive bonus.

When bruising is extensive and long-lasting, it is time to consider other plants to throw into the mix. Chilli, cayenne (capsicum sp.) gets blood moving at all levels. It can be very effective where bruising is deep down and can act to transport the active ingredients of other bruise herbs to help resolve the issue.

A chilli tincture is easy to make, but care must be taken to have the room well ventilated and wear gloves if possible. I made my tincture from Scotch Bonnets, chopping them in the processor before adding the vodka. When the top of the processor was removed, the airborne particle affected my eyes so badly, I had to open the kitchen window and then lie down for half an hour before I could carry on!

When I was treating my husband for extensive bruising and a swollen knee after an altercation with a ball during Walking Football, I only had chili in tincture form, so that went into his thrice daily medicine and ginger oil was added to his bruise salve.

A very effective herb for use with children and vulnerable elders is daisy. The flowers and leaves combine to make a double infused oil which can be made into a salve on its own or mixed with self-heal (prunella vulgaris) or mugwort (artemisia vulgaris).

Many people rely on homeopathic arnica for bruising. It is very effective and easily available from all chemists. You can make your own tincture if you have access to the arnica plant but remember it is poisonous and should only be applied externally in drop doses rubbed into the skin.

In conclusion, the body will heal any bruises it sustains but there are a number of plants which can help support and speed up the process.

References

Bruton-Seal, J and Seal, M The Herbalist’s Bible Merlin Unwin Books 2014

Bruton-Seal, J and Seal, M Wayside Medicine Merlin Unwin Books 2017

Gibbs, J. A  A Cotswold Village Nonsuch Publishing 2005

Warren-Davis, D ‘Reflections on Solomon Seal’ from A Welsh Herbal | Facebook

 

 

 

 

 

  

Planning for the future

My blog has been quiet for a long time. With everything going on in my life it was hard to find the energy and enthusiasm to create new articles of interest to both me and my readership.

The pandemic affected everyone. Lockdown should have meant less responsibilities, less travelling around the country but it didn’t. We survived 2020 with all our families intact and new friendships forged through building our local community. 2021 was a different matter. We lost seven people dear to us, including my oldest friend, who spent her life fighting for the rights of asylum seekers.

My father-in-law also left us at the age of 94 after a short illness in January 2021. His death meant we had to clear his home in Surrey after a lifetime of living and travelling around the world. We sold the house in October but still have a number of items filling our house and a lock-up waiting for attention.

My father was slowly deteriorating over the two years and needed more care, mostly provided by my sister and myself plus three local carers. Staying at the farm for three days out of every fortnight plus extra visits during hospital appointments or emergencies ate into our time and energies.

My 88-year-old uncle left us in February this year and my father, now 93, followed him in July as the hay was being harvested in the fields around him. The world has changed forever and currently we are stuck in limbo until probate has been completed.

As if that weren’t enough, we also suffered a serious burglary at our house whilst we were away on holiday in Cornwall, four days after my father’s funeral. The added stress has not helped anything.

However, on the bright side, we envisage the Sanctuary staying with us for the foreseeable future. This year’s festival was small but enjoyable and my arm was twisted to begin the apprenticeship again next January. More details can be found on the apprenticeship page of this blog

Herbs have continued to be my lifeline. Without their support and calming effects, I doubt I could manage to achieve everything I do. We take a daily tonic, tweaked to address any current difficulties. Chris has hawthorn, dandelion, nettle root and willowherb/saw palmetto, while mine is vervain, lemon balm, SJW, motherwort, Solomon seal, agrimony, plantain and I’ve just added black cohosh to try and deal with solid hip muscles. Skullcap is my saviour when times are very hard.

Chris managed to fall onto the ball during walking football at the beginning of July resulting in a seriously swollen knee with bruising which reached first the top of his leg and then went down to his ankle. Luckily, nothing was torn or broken.

The swelling dissipated along with the bruising thanks to an arsenal of bruise and anti-inflammatory herbs (initially plantain, yarrow, comfrey, Solomon seal and agrimony, followed by chilli to address the deep internal bruising) delivered in tincture form three times a day and a salve rubbed on when needed. He lost no mobility, for which we were very grateful.

Thanks to help from friends over the summer, we were able to bring the Sanctuary back to life, planting calendula and ashwagandha beds and bringing in new respiratory herbs and nervines.

The autumn has been filled with harvesting and processing. All our apple, pear and quince trees produced bumper crops this year, resulting in many hours spent making jams, jellies, cordials, stewed fruits, puddings and liquors.

Pear cordial

An amount of pears, peeled and sliced

Spices (cinnamon, ginger, 3-6 cloves, star anise)

Zested lemon peel

Place the pears, spices and zest of the lemon in a saucepan and cover with water. Bring to the boil with the lid on and simmer until soft. Put all the contents of the pan through a sieve and measure the result. Clean the saucepan and return the seievd remains. For every pint(litre) of “stewed pear”, add 1lb(1kg) of sugar. Add heat and stir gently until the sugar is fully dissolved and the cordial has just come to the boil. Pour into sterilised bottles. Seal, label and date. Keep in the fridge once opened.

This cordial can be used as a hot drink with boiling water. I find all cordials too sweet so like to add the juice of half a lemon to the mixture. It can also be poured over ice cream or other desserts or used as a sweetener for porridge.

The hedgerows have also been offering abundant haws, sloes, conkers and enormous rosehips. The haws are steeping in brandy, sloes I left for the birds this year as my shelves are still full of sloe gin! I still have to make a double infused horse chestnut oil and the rosehips are sitting in the dehydrator waiting to be tested for moisture after several days drying.

Horse chestnut double infused oil

An amount of conkers

Sunflower oil

Double boiler.

Place the conkers inside a robust bag and bash them with a large hammer on a suitable surface until smashed into small pieces. Divide your pieces into two piles. Place the first pile in the top of a double boiler and cover with sunflower oil. Fill the bottom saucepan with hot water and heat on your lowest heat for two hours after bringing the water to a boil. Make sure the saucepan doesn’t boil dry at any time.

After two hours, strain the oil and retain it. Compost the spent conkers. Place the second pile of conker pieces in the top of the double boiler and pour over the single infused oil. Heat for another two hours. Strain the oil into a container and leave it to sit for a while or overnight. Compost the spent conkers. Pour the double infused horse chestnut oil into a sterilised, wide mouthed jam jar, seal, label and date. Keep in a cool, dark place. It should keep for at least two years, if not longer. If you pour it into a bottle it will go off sooner.

Next week will see the root harvest. Solomon seal needs weeding and probably a few roots harvested for tincture and oil. Dandelions are definitely on my agenda as my stock of dried roots has diminished and some tincture is due. I’ll search for burdock but have already made some leaf tincture which should be sufficient this year. The weather has continued mild, so the ashwagandha may be left for another month and the first frost.

Life goes on. I’m still teaching piano to my ten pupils. The oldest have been passed to my daughter for the higher grades and new “tinys” have appeared to fill the gaps, with all the enthusiasm and exuberance five year olds bring to a new adventure!

Novel writing also continues. I’m now working on the third story about children in Roelswick set in 2007.

We continue to travel hopefully and look forward to meeting new herb lovers along the way. 

More quince recipes

Back in 2008, I wrote about my new quince tree and its first harvest of five large quinces. The tree is now established and after several lean years, it has gone back to its former munificence, providing us with two large pickings of fruit which weigh at least 1lb each. A mature tree can produce nearly one hundred fruit.

It’s hard to know what to make with such quantities, so I have been scouring the modern and ancient recipe books to discover new ways of preserving the delicious flavour.

 (I’m not American, so I don’t finish any of my jams or jellies in a water bath. There’s no need. The sugar acts as a preservative. If you reduce the amount of sugar, then you may need to use a different method to ensure the jelly will keep safely.)

Quince Chips (from the receipt book of Lady Anne Blencowe interpreted by Christina Stapley)

Quinces

Golden castor sugar

Large ovenproof dish

Pan of boiling water

Place whole quinces into a saucepan, cover with cold water and bring to the boil. Boil for one minute then remove. Peel, core and slice the quinces thinly. Scatter them with golden castor sugar one at a time so they don’t become discoloured as they are exposed to the air. Lay the quince slices onto a large, ovenproof dish, turn them and scatter with sugar again. Place the dish over a pan of boiling water until the sugar has melted. Spoon all the melted sugar and the quince slices into the centre of the dish and heat until the sugar forms thick, white foam. Having made sure the quince slices are covered with syrup, set them one at a time at the edge of the dish to dry a little, before dipping them again. When the slices have taken up all the syrup, remove the dish from the heat and set the quince chips in a warm place to dry before packing in boxes.

 

Quince jelly

Quinces

Sugar

Spices (Ginger, 3-6 cloves, nutmeg, cinnamon) optional

Muslin and either somewhere to hang it from or a large frame

Small, sterilised jam jars and lids

Remove any brown sections from the quinces and chop into small pieces. If you are just making jelly, you don’t need to peel and core the fruit. If you want the flesh to make membrillo, then do this first. Place the chopped fruit in a large stainless steel pan.

Cover the fruit with cold water, bring to the boil and simmer on the lowest heat for up to five hours. Place the muslin over a separate basin or large saucepan, making sure you can retrieve the four corners of the muslin. Lift up the muslin and either attach to a frame or suspend from a hook (I use the handle of the extractor fan above the hob). Tie the ends of the muslin securely and leave to drip overnight.

The next morning, either compost the spent quince flesh or set it aside to make the membrillo.

Measure the amount of liquid and return it to a suitably large saucepan. Add either one pound of sugar per pint of liquid or 1kg of sugar per litre of liquid. Bring to a rolling boil stirring continuously for at least ten minutes then test for a setting point every five minutes. Quince jelly can be cantankerous. Don’t be surprised if it takes at least half an hour to reach a set. Don’t walk away in despair and leave it on a high heat. It will boil over. (Ask me how I know this!) Once a set is reached, pour the jelly into small, sterilised jam jars and seal the lids.

Quince cheese from ‘The Complete Book of Vegetables, Herbs and Fruit’ by Biggs, McVicar and Flowerdew

2lbs quince

2 lbs sugar

1 small unwaxed orange

1 or 2 drops orange flower or rose petal water (optional)

Roughly chop the quinces into pieces. Finely chop the orange and simmer both together with just enough water to cover them until they are a pulp. Strain the pulp and add its own weight in sugar. Bring to the boil and cook gently for approximately 1 ½ hrs. Add the orange or rose water if desired. Then pot into warm, oiled pots, seal and store for three months or more before using. Turn the cheese out of the bowl and slice for serving with cooked meats or savoury dishes.

Two recipes from the New Edition of Mrs Beeton’s Every Day Cookery given to my great-aunt for Christmas in 1931

Quince Blancmange

1lb ripe quinces

6 ozs castor sugar

¾ oz gelatine

¼ pt double cream

1pt water

Peel and core the quinces, simmer them in the water until quite soft and broken but not reduced to a pulp. Strain through a jelly bag. Replace the liquor in the pan, add the sugar and the gelatine previously soaked in a little cold water. Stir and boil gently until the gelatine is dissolved. When cool, add the cream, mix well and turn into a mould, rinsed with cold water. Serves 4-5.

Quince Marmalade

To each lb of quince pulp allow ¾ lb loaf sugar or preserving sugar. If making apple and quince marmalade, use equal parts of quince and apple puree.

Pare the fruit then place in a preserving pan with as much water as will just cover the bottom of the pan and stew gently until reduced to a pulp. Pass through a sieve. Weigh the pulp, put it back into the cleaned pan, add the sugar and cook very gently until the marmalade sets quickly when tested on a cold plate. Place in sterilised jam jars, seal and date.

When I made this, I failed to read the instructions correctly (always a good start!). I simmered the quince for one and a half hours until it was well stewed but didn’t pass it through a sieve. I added a heaped pint measure of quince to the same amount of apple, then brought it to a rolling boil for ten minutes and didn’t turn the heat off during the five minutes it took to cool and set like concrete on a cold saucer. It was beginning to catch on the bottom of the pan but didn’t ruin the marmalade. It tastes great!

Quince Vodka

Quinces

Sugar

Spices (optional)

Vodka

Large clean glass jam jars with lids

Peel and core the quinces and chop or slice into small pieces suitable to fill the jam jar. Pour in some sugar depending how sweet you like your liqueur. Add spices. (I usually just add ginger and a few cloves so the flavour of the quince isn’t hidden.) Add vodka, removing any air bubbles and dissolving the sugar by podging with a chopstick. Seal, label and date. Keep in a cool dark place for three months or longer. This recipe can be made with layers of quince and pear or quince and apple.

Several family members and friends much prefer gin to vodka and several have diabetes so this year I have put up some Quince Gin without any sweetening.

Quince Gin

Peel, core and chop enough quinces to fill a large jam jar. Add chopped root ginger and a star anise plus 3-5 cloves. Fill the jar with gin, stirring well to remove air bubbles. Seal, label and date and leave in a cool, dark place until Christmas. Decant and serve.

Quince Ratafia (recipe provided by Jane Birkett)

1 large quince

1 large jam jar

Brown sugar

1/4tsp each cinnamon, ginger and mace

Vodka or brandy

Wash quince to remove fur. Grate quince without peeling or coring into a jar. Fill one third of the way up the jar with brown sugar. Add spices and spirit. Stir to remove air bubbles and dissolve sugar. Seal, label and date. Leave in a dark place for at least a month. 2-3 months is best.

 

 

A week in the life of a Herbwife

Winter stores are hard to quantify. I know in my head what lies on each larder shelf. There are two for oils, one for infused honeys, four for dried herbs, two for vinegars, half a shelf for flower essences, and the rest are tinctures, elixirs and liqueurs. Once upon a time, everything was in alphabetical order but that disappeared when space was at a premium or others helpfully returned jars to gaps rather than their homes. Most bottles and jars are labelled with a date of production but there are still a couple I have yet to either identify or throw out.

Some herbalists were talking recently about using the quiet time of winter to catch up on their herbal inventories. This has been one of my goals for many years but I doubt if it will be crossed off the list any time soon. My larder is full. The only way a new jar finds a place on a shelf is if another is removed. Any new preparation takes twice as long because something else must either be emptied, amalgamated or thrown away.

Saturday and Sunday were spent digging more roots. My long-suffering husband volunteered to do battle with nettle roots, which seemed only right as the prostate support medicine is for him. I attacked the first year angelica plants, removing six and leaving others to grow for another season. Then I tackled Solomon seal, quite a feat when the whole neglected bed is covered with nettles, hogweed and other unmentionables. I unearthed six roots, leaving the rest for another year.

One thing you notice when harvesting roots is the condition of the soil. The angelica was covered in a sticky, wet, dark brown, not surprising when the bed is below the spring line where clay meets limestone. The horseradish was in a completely different medium, the dry, light brown particles falling away from the stones as I dug down beside the wall.

Two hours spent removing four kinds of roots followed by another two on Monday scrubbing horseradish, Solomon seal and angelica before leaving it to air dry overnight.

The plan was to make tinctures with angelica, Solomon seal and nettle and a new batch of fire cider vinegar with the horseradish. I’d forgotten angelica needs overproof rum for its menstruum but luckily two bottles arrived back with the Monday shopping alongside more vodka. Anyone who didn’t know me would think I had a problem…!

Tuesday morning began with decanting two jars of hawthorn berry brandy and last year’s angelica root harvest. One of the  hawthorn jars contained quite a lot of gelatinous precipitate which I wasn’t expecting as the haws had been harvested before any whiff of frost. After discussion, it appears that hawthorn contains more pectin than either apples or lemons. So much so, the scientists are preparing to use it in developing new food preparations and drugs. (Take a look at the article here.)

To alleviate the problem, I washed the haws with extra brandy and added it to the tincture, which seems to have settled into liquid form. Hawthorn jelly is now on my list to make.

Every decanted tincture needs to be tasted. When you first start making medicines, this really helps to identify new tastes but it’s also helpful in deciding whether the season is a good one for that plant. This was my first ever batch of angelica root. It was possibly the worst tincture I’d ever tasted, probably not helped by leaving the roots in alcohol for a year. (We weren’t ill last year so I didn’t need it.) It was bitter, incredibly strong and tasted “black” with no discernible sweetness from the rum and not a great deal of the expected angelica scent. Interestingly, half an hour after swallowing the disgusting liquid, I realised my mouth was no longer burning and I really felt quite well!

A spare half-hour between piano lessons found me desperately scrubbing nettle roots in failing light wishing I could see better! Nevertheless, the amount I laid out to air dry on the kitchen table overnight was just enough to fill two large jars the following morning.

The final preparation from the weekend haul on Wednesday was a nasturtium leaf tincture, from a chance visit to my aunt and uncle the previous Friday. Nasturtiums have been very late growing this year and I only had one plant self-seed, which wasn’t enough to do anything with. Nasturtiums not only provide colour in a garden, peppery leaves for salads and seeds for false capers, they are a powerful anti-viral and have a special affinity for respiratory issues. My aunt had two plants curling their way along her beech hedge. She had no objections to my harvesting the hand-sized leaves which yielded enough to make a small jar of tincture.

Next on the list were ashwagandha roots from the garden. The forecast for the end of the week was very cold with the possibility of snow as well as frosts. Thursday sunshine dried the washing and threats of overnight rain decided me to grab a thick coat and wellingtons as light faded. The ashwagandha plants were happy to be removed. Those planted late into the middle raised bed were already leafless with small roots. They never grow as well in this cooler environment but even an inch of root provides a useful yield from thirty plants.

Most leaves of the plants in the large pots on the patio were still vibrantly green with secondary leaves already growing. Their roots were at least two inches long with a frenzy of rootlets. The cherry shells were nowhere near ripe, so those stems were cut to live in the kitchen window sill until they transform. Friends came to play with the model trains in the loft on Friday and they were more than happy to take part of the root harvest home with them.

A busy week beginning with roots and ending with spices when I prepared two curries from scratch for our Friday night meal. They all provide harvests to sustain us through the winter and hope to see us through the long, cold months ahead.

 

Digging for winter health

“What can I forage now?” someone asked recently.

My response was all about roots. This time of year, dandelions tubers swell from seasonal photosynthesis, summer sweetness locked within their fibres. First year burdock, mullein and angelica can be harvested for drying or tincturing. It’s too late if you gather the remains of plants which have already flowered, the roots have sent up all their “goodness/virtue” into flowers and seeds.

Seeds can be gathered as long as they are black and ripe. Mullein seeds are tiny. It’s best to put the whole flowering stalk inside a paper bag and shake vigorously if you want to keep them or maybe spread them on the ground to encourage another harvest in two years’ time.

Burdock seeds are an investment. The seed pods are guarded by sharp thorns. They are best approached with heavy gloves and when you’ve gathered enough, find a sheltered place out of the wind, a sharp stick or chopstick to poke inside the large pod and a bowl to pour the seeds into. The seeds are both nutritional and medicinal. They are best ground daily if you’re intending to eat them or used whole  in a decoction which can be divided in three parts and drunk during the day.

Burdock, like nettles, is a blood cleanser. It can be used for eczema, psoriasis, gout, liver and kidney support etc. The root is the only part not bitter, but it is diuretic. If you chew a piece of root, be prepared to find a toilet within twenty minutes. The root is also helpful in exciting a lethargic appetite, especially one dulled by a long-lasting virus. Chop the clean root into small pieces, possibly inside a muslin bag and cook it as part of a stock, soup or stew. Remove before serving.

My next planned harvest will be nettle roots. I don’t gather the golden goodness very often, but searching the larder shelves this week for another bottle of tincture to add to my husband’s daily tonic proved fruitless, so this month I shall be attacking several clumps with a garden fork. The roots are stunning. I would never have guessed their colour. It glows in autumn sunlight, providing another aspect to nettle’s cornucopia.

I learned from a former apprentice about nettle root as a powder providing extra nutritional oomph to a diet. I’ve always used it to support the prostate gland. There have been studies undertaken which show that nettle root can keep the prostate stable for many years. It seems a useful ally for all men, especially those in middle age.

Prostate cancer is as widespread as lung and breast, so every man and women who care for them need to be alert for any danger signals and seek medical advice as soon as possible.

My other root harvests are from my garden rather than the field or hedgerow. Elecampane flowers are long gone, their long stalks brown and brittle, the huge green leaves mere husks of their former green profusion. I removed all the aerial parts yesterday to fill my green bin but their roots are safe for the moment. I still have large amounts of infused honey and tincture from last year and I suspect, if I search, there will be another full jar of dried root slices to add to cough elixirs or syrups.

The honey can be given to children over two years as a prophylactic to prevent constant winter coughing. The root smells and tastes of commercial scent but it is one of the most effective cough remedy. Like mullein leaf, it drags up debris from the depths, resolving deep rooted lung infections.

Although the frost whispered on the fringes of the lawn last week, there has been nothing to prompt me to dig up the ashwagandha roots. I’m still holding on to a vain hope there may be ripe cherries in the future but I’m not holding my breath.

Roots mean hard work scrubbing with lots of water changes. I never powder them until the time that powder is needed. Powders go off quicker than anything else but properly dried and sliced roots will last for more than two years if stored in a dark place.

Although I grow marshmallow, I don’t harvest the root. The leaves are sufficient for my needs and I value my plants. The downy stems are almost bare now so I may cut them down before the solstice, rather than afterwards.

There is one root I buy. Astralagus (astralagus membranaceous) has been on my list of immune-enhancing herbs for a very long time but I’ve only been working with it for the past five or so years. It’s a native of Mongolia and China and has been used in Chinese Traditional Medicine for centuries. I’ve never seen a plant growing so I guess it may be on my list to try one of these years.

The commercial packs are full of tiny discs with an earthy smell which is not endearing but the taste doesn’t adversely affect anything to which it is added. The roots are well known immune enhancers, antiviral and antibacterial. They can be used prophylactically against colds and upper respiratory infections.

For the past few winters, I have been adding a tablespoon of it to all my stocks, soups and stews along with homemade green powder to bring our immune systems to the maximum efficiency. Along with other herbal roots, astralagus roots need to be removed before serving as they don’t break down and can’t be chewed as part of the meal. I usually place them inside a large muslin teabag which is easy take out of the liquid.

My friend, Lynne Tynan Cashmore gave me a recipe for immune-enhancing tea which is very pleasant.

1tsp dried haws

1tsp dried hips

1-2tsps dried astralagus root

Infuse for 15-20 minutes then drink.

Lynne recommends drinking a mugful of tea every day during the winter to ward off the lurgies. If you were using fresh hips and haws then you would need 1 tablespoons of each, so it is probably more efficient to dry them before use as tea, depending on how much you have been able to forage and store. 

Combing the hedgerows

 

My favourite place to forage in autumn is amongst the hedgerows. Whilst horse chestnuts and some of the elders are already losing leaves, other trees are turning beautiful shades of red, yellow, and purple. Garlands of crimson woody nightshade berries adorn their branches but must never be picked or tasted.

Rowan/Mountain Ash and crampbark/Guelder Rose are still holding on to their glorious red berries alongside the pink and orange clusters of the spindle tree. The first two can be made into jellies with crab-apples. Both berries are nontoxic if cooked before eating.

Rowan jelly is sometimes offered as an accompaniment to game. I have only tried the jelly once. It was too bitter for me. One of my apprentices experimented with a crampbark and crabapple jelly which was declared delicious by everyone who tasted it. It is on my list of future experiments.

Never pick spindle berries. They are poisonous.

Rowan is known for its protective properties. Crosses made from the wood are fixed with red ribbons and hung on cradles to stop the fairies from stealing or exchanging babies. The berries can also be threaded into necklaces or onto pieces of wire to strengthen the cross. They need to be dried once threaded for preservation. Strings of dried berries can also be hung on cradles, out of reach of tiny, enquiring fingers and mouths!

I have been wanting to make a rowan berry string for the past ten years, ever since Charlie Farrow first showed us how to make the rowan cross during a festival workshop. There were no berries available that year, so we made do with haws. When I finally foraged some late hanging rowan berries this weekend, I was delighted to find how easy it was to push a sharp needle through the berry and draw the thread through. My string is now hanging against a hot water tank to dry over the next few weeks.

Each autumn, I harvest rosehips, haws and purple sloes. The rosehips are full of vitamin C, their bright, scarlet clusters shine in a tantalizing glow amidst the briars. Like blackberry brambles, you forage carefully. If you don’t pay great attention, the backward thorns will extract their drop of blood or threads of fabric when you least expect it. Once caught, you cannot wrench yourself free, but must work backwards to remove the thorns before they claim a larger price.

Some of the rosehip harvest will be dried for use throughout the year. I’m not making rosehip honey this year as I haven’t started the honey I made two years ago. I am going to make some rosehip syrup and maybe add sloes to the mixture.

This is a good year for sloes. Some people like to harvest after the first frost, but you can easily mimic the cold by placing your harvest in the freezer before processing, ensuring the skins are split. Like rosehips, sloes are full of vitamin C. Their astringent nature can also help with loose stools.

Haws have become increasingly important to me over the years. Dried, they make a pleasant tea, boosting the immune system if a handful of astralagus root and rosehips are added.

Hawthorn vinegar is one of the easiest products to make, stuffing a jam jar full of haws, covering it with cider vinegar and watching the berries turn white while the vinegar takes on the soft, rose-tinged hue. It’s one of the tastier vinegars, ideal for salad dressings or as an unusual starter with crusty bread.

One of my most well-used preparations is haw brandy. I use it daily with motherwort tincture to strengthen my heart and prevent palpitations. It can also be added to tinctures made from hawthorn leaves and flowers to produce a full-spectrum medicine.

Hawthorn is all about the heart, managing fluid levels, helping the raise or lower the heart rate depending on what is needed. It can be given by a qualified herbalist to those who already take allopathic medicine for their heart condition. Offering hawthorn to lean, tall, elderly men with low blood pressure may not be a good idea. (Don’t ask them to do breathing exercises as part of relaxation techniques either – ask me how I know!)

Hawthorn has been part of our landscape for centuries. Its name comes from the Anglo-Saxon word meaning “hedge thorn.” The thorns are not as long and dangerous as the blackthorn, but trees have the ability to grow close to one another to provide both a barrier and shelter from strong winds.

On an energetic level, hawthorn opens the heart to the possibility of spiritual development. Its most powerful gift is the opportunity for forgiveness, both of self and others. This is especially useful during a time of grieving, where the bereaved is completely immersed in a cycle of “if only…” Spending time with a hawthorn tree can be useful but if something material is needed, then regular doses of hawthorn flower essence (4 drops under the tongue or in water three times a day or when needed) or drop doses of hawthorn flower tincture can be helpful.

An alternative point of comfort might be to offer a piece of hawthorn twig, sanded smooth and finished with a smear of salve or sunflower oil for the grieving person to use as a “meditation aid” or “worry stick.” The precise term is immaterial, whatever enables the individual to accept the gift or maybe make one for themselves.

Berries are not the only harvest from the hedgerows. On my way out of a nearby stand of trees, I noticed dogwood and crampbark leaves colouring the grass alongside two rowan trees. The leaves found their way into my basket, together with several bunches of rowan berries. These have been used to create two colourful plates for Samhain. It feels good to be inspired after such a long absence!