‘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.

A time of balance

The wheel of life is constantly turning. Days grow quietly longer, edging us out of winter’s darkness into the promise of spring renewal. Each year we anticipate change and each cycle bring new things to notice and consider.

This year has brought us so much loss. Everyone has been touched either publicly or privately and for some, the final journey in this world continues, affecting those they love and all who know.

In the countryside, the mild winter has not allowed the period of rest the land expects. Primroses have been blooming since December, maybe to prompt questions about its qualities. It is not just the flowers which gladden our sight and bring their candied sweetness to the table, the whole plant can gently soothe us. Leaves and flowers can be dried for tea and tinctures, while the flower essence can be helpful to stressed children.

Mature primrose roots are harvested in autumn before drying to combat nervous headaches. In ancient times, primroses were held in great regard for muscular rheumatism, paralysis and gout but today they are more often used as an expectorant or as a general tonic for the respiratory and nervous system.

The plants must have been laughing at us as we gathered around them last weekend in glorious sunshine, wondering about their properties when there was so much we could have been doing!

There was much we did do. Nibbling on St John’s wort and ground ivy leaves, noting their fresh and pungent flavour as well as storing up their properties for future reference. A medicinal tea was created for toothache from meadowsweet, sage and thyme but we drank nettle for refreshment and nettle soup to sustain us.

There is nothing which compares with young, fresh nettle. When asked to describe the flavour, the only real answer is “green” which tells us nothing and everything in just one word. We crave the vigour of this early plant to cleanse our sluggish blood stream after winter stagnation. It brings the vitamins and minerals we need to enhance our mood and start our activities in the lengthening light.

Helen’s nettle soup

A bowlful of fresh nettle tops

1 onion

1 clove of garlic

5 hazelnuts

1 stick of celery

1 potato

4 pints stock/water

Peel and dice the onion, celery and garlic, sweat them in a pan with oil until soft. Crush the hazelnuts and add to the pan with the peeled and sliced potato. Cook for about fifteen minutes until almost soft. Add the nettle tops five minutes before cooking ends. Season to taste. Blitz the soup until smooth. Serve with sourdough bread.

We find new allies amongst the detritus covering the herb beds. Bramble roots for digestive upsets infused in vinegar, golden nettle roots to tincture for prostate health and the ubiquitous couch grass to soothe the pain of urinary tract infections –cystitis, urethritis and prostatitis. It helps to dissolve stones and gravel as well as preventing their build up. It is also used for bronchitis and laryngitis and can be used with other herbs to treat gout and rheumatism.

The rhizomes are thin, white threads in the soil leading up to tufts of grass-like leaves on the surface. The underground labyrinths are washed and cut up into inch-long sections before drying. A mild, pleasant-tasting tea is made from infusing 2 tsps. of the roots in boiling water for ten minutes and can be drunk three times a day for a medicinal or preventative dose.

No matter where we look there is new growth. In my garden, pigeons are feasting on emerging hawthorn leaves. Elder leaves have been present for a few weeks now and the crampbark buds are beginning to burst. Other trees are still asleep but it won’t be long before their sap with be rising.

Now is the time for preparation, to sow seeds, to divide roots and begin cuttings. The light encourages us outside to experience a new warmth, another new beginning and all possible hope for the future.

Celebrating a Herbal Springtime

This post is part of the Herbwifery Forum April blog party hosted by Cory Su on her blog Aquarian Bath

Spring evaded us for longer this year. Now the waiting is over as suddenly my garden is swathed in yellow. Forsythia blossoms hang from the naked cherry tree like a sunshine waterfall. Daffodils, primroses and cowslips offer yellow beacons amidst the dark brown earth, while a solitary primula promises red flowers in the near future.

Gooseberry and blackcurrant bushes have already unfurled their vibrant green leaves. Red currants and raspberry canes will not be far behind. I can see leaf buds swelling on the hawthorn hedge like a grey/green mist as I check the new plum trees for signs of contentment with their new home.

Spring brings bursts of new energy. Friday night saw me collecting nettles, garlic mustard, spinach and sorrel from the garden for my workshop soup. Already their different shades of green are painting a new palate together with the stalwarts of winter – holly, ivy, laurel, rosemary and yew.

Early fronds of St John’s wort have been growing for several months now, their lemony tang a burst of flavour on my tongue. Sea holly shoots are blue/green compared with their shiny green golden rod neighbours. A touch of red nearby reveals new rhubarb stalks, their green curled leaves waiting to explode against the hedge.

In the shade of the laurel hedge, violet flowers offer a swathe of colour amidst the green. Early rosettes of other herbs are beginning to make their mark – lemon balm, mint, vervain, valerian, while yarrow fronds wave at me as I step outside the back door. Their roots run deep beneath the paving slabs, but they grow straight and tall if left alone.

Underneath the bench a tiny elder tree hides, grown from an escaped berry two or three years ago. It cannot stay where it is, but neither can I move it without re-arranging the terrace. It may be safe for one more year, but then, who knows!

Spring can also bring sacrifices. This year it was angelica. Last year it grew happily behind the Mexican orange bush, but that has gone to make way for summer vegetables. If the angelica stayed, it would shade smaller plants and make the bed more difficult to manage.

It was a sturdy plant, defying the frosts and snow of winter, returning to full strength as temperatures rose and daylight lengthened. We tasted her leaves, bathing ourselves in her fragrance. She was photographed before being dug, then carefully washed and taken indoors to be swathed in honey and vinegar; her essence transferring to different mediums to nourish others.

Over the weekend, a single buff-tailed bumblebee buzzed her way around the garden. I watched her resting on the white patio door while I washed newly dug dandelions on the patio table, noting their difference from Cotswold cousins. The leaves were immersed in vinegar. Half the roots were chopped and roasted in the oven before joining their fresh counterparts, together with grated ginger root, dried orange peel and a pinch of ground black cardamom to be covered with vodka for a bitter tonic.

These are my first medicines of spring. Tonight they will be shared with another group, opening their hearts and minds to the endless possibilities of nature – food and medicines close at hand in their own gardens.

March UK Blog Party: My Herbal Treasure -Violet

They say violets flower from the end of winter until early Spring, but I will always associate them with Mothering Sunday. We would go to our local Cotswold church and be given bunches of primroses and violets to pass on to our mother as a small gift.

One year, Rev Walker, gave us a special card to go with our flowers. My sister’s card was a picture of a chancel with sun cascading in through the window and an appropriate verse, mine was a bunch of violets.

I always loved their scent. It was one of the perfumes of spring, delicate and short-lived. To me it bore no resemblance to the commercially scented sweets my grandmother sometimes offered.

There were few cars along our narrow country roads when I was young. It was safe enough for my sister and I to cycle the short way to the local quarry – then a dumping ground for the village. We would go to see what had been left, clambering over piles of earth to reach the farthest point where our small garden lay. There we transplanted snowdrops, primroses and violets, watching them grow and flourish in the warmth of each new spring before summer covered everything with nettles and we stayed at home.

We had no primroses or violets on our farm, so we dug up a few plants from our quarry garden and took them elsewhere – primroses in the garden and violets sheltered behind wiry hawthorn trees where they would be safe from cattle or sheep.

Those hawthorn trees are now part of the Sanctuary and violets spread a bright green carpet across the earth.

Susun Weed was the first person to draw my attention to violet as a medicinal herb in her book, Healing Wise. She talked about violet’s nutritional support for women. Her words were wonderful, but they didn’t mean anything to me until Rebecca Hartman, Kiva Rose Hardin and Darcey Blue French were discussing the amounts of mucilage present in leaves of viola odorata’s cousin, viola tricola (heartease).

“I wonder what they mean,” I thought to myself, never having chewed a violet leaf.

A few days later I was wandering by myself in the Sanctuary. Taking my courage in both hands, I plucked two violet leaves and chewed them. There was no real flavour, but as the leaves decomposed in my mouth, I discovered the mucilage.

It was a revelation – fleeting, but noticeable. It reminded me of the tiny remains after the shell of a Smartie had been carefully crushed between my teeth as a child and worked until a scrap of goo remained.

I now understood what mucilaginous and demulcent meant.

Like all herbs, violet is not just one thing. For a start, her scented purple flowers are not true flowers at all. Those appear later. They are green and hide underneath leaves where no-one can see them.

Violet is described as an “alterative” or “blood purifier”, a perfect addition to spring salads or mineral-rich hot, long infusions. Susun Weed adds her to red clover, plantain and nettles. Jim Mcdonald likes to combine her with hawthorn and oatstraw.

From times long past violet has been used to soothe hot, dry coughs such as whooping cough, congestion and sore throats. Rebecca Hartman has a lovely recipe for blender juice made from “weeds from your lawn” – plantain, chickweed, violet and mallows. She picks the leaves, washes them if necessary then throws them in her liquidiser with some cold water, blends, then leaves them for a short while before blending again then straining and drinking.

It is important to use cold water if you want to extract the most mucilage from a plant. It is the mucilage which coats and soothes the dry throat and chest. It can also help with irritated bowels or be sponged on sunburn.

Violet is not a single season herb. The leaves grow all year round, even surviving the recent months of snow and ice. Something has been feasting on the violet leaves in my garden and the ones in the Sanctuary look very small and fragile, but vibrant. I only found three flowers blooming last weekend, so I won’t be making violet syrup this year.

Susun Weed’s recipe for violet syrup
1/2 pound/225g fresh violets
2 cups/500ml water
2 cups/500ml honey
Enlist all the help you can to pick violet blossoms. Boil water; pour over blossoms; cover. Let steep overnight in nonmetallic container. Strain out flowers. Reserve purple liquid. Combine violet infusion and honey. Simmer gently, stirring, for ten or fifteen minutes, until it seems like syrup. Fill clean jars. Cool. Keep well chilled to preserve.

Violet syrup from the altnature.com website
Pour 1 pint of boiling water over 1 cup packed, of fresh crushed flowers and leaves, cover and let stand for 12 hours. Strain and squeeze through cloth, add 2 lb. of sugar and boil for 1 hour or until syrupy. Store in glass jar. Give 1 tbs. (1 tsp. for children) 2 or 3 times a day.

Violets contain many different compounds including vitamins A&C and salicylic acid, which means it can be taken for headaches, migraines, body pain and as a sedative. Apparently work is also being done with breast cysts – using violet both internally and externally as a poultice – and with HIV and cancers. It’s not a good idea to eat the roots unless you need an emetic!

I use her mainly as a double infused oil to offer added moisture to any salve I am making. Like her cousin, heartsease, she is good with irritable skin conditions and plays her part in soothing troubled hearts. She is also a wonderful teaching aid. Anyone who visits the Sanctuary is offered a leaf to chew, a new experience to bring delight and wonder.

Violets allow me to focus on both past and present. Their scent reminds me of a carefree childhood, while their leaves show me the wealth of support she is able to offer to mankind.

Spring Tonics

The equinox will be upon us in another few days. Light is increasing, stimulating new growth in so many different areas. Pink strands hang from the flowering currant in my garden, echoing the yellow forsythia flowers draped across the cherry tree. The first few dandelion flowers have appeared in strange places – one by the front door and another in the back garden. The latter found its way into my first fresh nettle soup of the year, mixing with onion, carrots and parsnips to brighten and lighten the heavier root vegetables from last year’s harvest.

Nettle and carrot soup
1 onion (peeled, diced and sweated in a tablespoon of vegetable oil)
8 carrots (scraped and chopped)
3 parsnips (peeled and chopped)
1 colander full of young nettle tops (washed)
zest and juice of 1 orange
parsley
All the ingredients fitted into my 5 pint saucepan, so I covered them with water and simmered for about 20 minutes after bringing to the boil. After whizzing in the liquidiser, it just needed some salt and pepper to taste. Serve hot with wholemeal or granary bread.

Spring is often a time to think of tonics. Matt Wood has defined a tonic as “a herb or food that acts on the body in a slow, nutritive fashion to build up the substance of the body.” Jim MacDonald has written a really useful paragraph on his website describing the many different kinds of tonic, showing how different herbs can be used to meet different bodily needs.

Tonics can be taken in many different forms, from the simple nettle tea, to the complex maceration of a tonic wine. Here are four different recipes for a tonic wine. Two came from one of Debs Cook’s collection of ancient books and the third from Juliette de Bairacli Levy’s basic herb book.

Nettle Tea
Gather two handfuls of fresh nettle tops, (preferably in Spring) and place in teapot or cafatiere. (Wash first if any soil or debris can be seen) Fill the teapot with just boiled water and leave to steep for ten minutes. Strain and drink. Honey can be used to sweeten to taste.

Aromatic Wine
2-pints red wine
1/2 Tbsp sage leaves
2 Tbsps thyme leaves
2 Tbsps hyssop leaves
2 Tbsps spearmint leaves
2 Tbsps wormwood leaves
2 Tbsps marjoram herb
Use dried herbs
Chop the herbs into a coarse powder. Moisten the powders with some of the claret. Pack into a coffee machine, using parchment paper. Pour the claret over the herbs. It should yield about 1 pint of filtered liquid.
This French formula possesses strong tonic and aromatic properties. It is useful for invalids with feeble digestions and will also help with flatulence and other digestive disturbances. Use 1 tablespoon at a time. For ulcers, use heated as a hot (external) compress (dip a cloth into the hot liquid).

Tonic Wine
1 pint Madeira
1 sprig wormwood
1 sprig rosemary
1 small bruised nutmeg
1 inch bruised ginger root
1 inch bruised cinnamon bark
12 large organic raisins
Pour off about an ounce of the wine. Place herbs in the wine. Cork the bottle tightly. Place the bottle in a dark, cool place for a week or two. Strain off the herbs.

Juliette de Bairacli’s medicated wine
Several sprigs of rosemary and wormwood
6 candied cherries
2 nutmegs
1 inch cinnamon
Candied angelica
Bruised ginger root
1 doz large raisins
Pour over wine and leave in warm place for 1-2 weeks

Sarah Head’s medicated wine
6-8 sprigs rosemary (fresh)
2 sprigs mugwort (dried, but can use fresh)
2 handfuls of organic apricots
2 grated nutmegs
1 inch grated ginger root
1 quill cinnamon bark broken into pieces
Place ingredients in a 2lb glass jar, cover with Madeira wine, seal with screw top lid, label and date. Leave in a warm, dark cupboard/airing cupboard for 2-4 weeks. Strain and bottle. Take one small shot glass full as required.

Having made all three tonic wines, I preferred the taste of my version of Juliette’s recipe.

Christopher Hedley has a wonderful nettle iron tonic which I’ve made for several different people. As with all nettle “medicines” the recipients tend to take it until they don’t like it any more or forget and stop, which usually means they don’t need it.

Christopher Hedley’s iron tonic
Soak equal amounts of fresh nettle tops and organic apricots in good red wine, with a little bitter orange peel added. Soak for two weeks, strain and store in a cool place, Dose 1 or 2 dessertspoons twice daily.

This last recipe made me start to think about how to develop a tonic for a specific person. Karen was involved in a serious car accident at the beginning of the year. Thankfully she is now on the mend and I was wondering what would be helpful for her once she comes out of hospital. I put a query out on Henriette’s herblist, describing what had happened and said I was thinking of adding plantain to Chris Hedley’s tonic.

Henriette has suggested adding something for the liver to counteract all the medication she’s been on (dandelion and burdock should be available) and something for the digestive system to help it start working again after all the opiate painkillers she’s taken. She suggested prunes, figs, mallow or plantain seeds. I inadvertently dug up a marshmallow root recently, so it can be added to the mixture along with some dried prunes and figs. These can be eaten in very small doses once they have macerated for a couple of weeks or whizzed up with the infused Madeira.

Henrietta also suggested rose petals and rescue remedy. I still have some dried dogrose and apothecary’s rose petals from last summer, so I can add those to the mix. Hopefully we should be able to gather everything else during the next workshop on March 28th then Karen’s friend, Julie, can take it home with her to give Karen when it’s ready.