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. 

Managing abdominal surgery

The story

We are exceptionally fortunate in the UK to have the NHS. After my in-patient stay last year with cholecystitis, the powers that be decided the time had come to remove my gallbladder with its thickened walls and undisclosed number of gallstones. The optimum time for removal is usually three months, allowing time for the inflammation to die down.

Unfortunately for me, administrative gremlins struck which resulted in my 6-week follow-up appointment not happening until 19 weeks after discharge in late February. Then an appointments clerk rang me the day after my mother died to ask if I was attending a pre-operative assessment in three days’ time when I'd not received any notification, let alone agreed to have a procedure which had not yet been discussed!

The consultation with the new surgeon (someone completely different from the person who had reviewed me in hospital, who I had expected to follow me up) took place in my local hospital the day after my mother’s funeral. Despite being the first appointment, I was still kept waiting for half an hour while he read my notes. The conversation about surgery was very brief. It had to be done. He liked all his patients to go on a diet to shrink their liver and he allowed his patients to drive four days after surgery. We exchanged a few pleasantries and I returned home to await the next communication.

I was somewhat surprised to read his letter to the GP which referred to a “full and frank discussion”. I wondered if I’d been asleep while it occurred.

At the beginning of May, as I was packing the caravan for one of our many weekends away with the kite team, I received a phone call asking if I would like to have my operation in the local private hospital in the next few weeks as they had some free time. We’d just booked a week away with our son and his family so I didn’t want to miss that, so agreed to June 15^th. I returned home to find this date had been cancelled because the surgeon didn’t have enough people to operate on. An alternative date would have meant cancelling my writing retreat with a substantial loss of money, so I negotiated to go in a week later.

I was sent the pre-admission details including the week-long 800 calorie diet. I had expected something miraculous if it was going to shrink my liver, instead I was expected to replace two meals with purchased diet products and, if I were lucky, my evening meal could be a protein source plus vegetables from a list which was referred to but not supplied.

I have a moral objection to spending money (which is limited in my household) on processed food so I made out a shopping list for lots of low calorie vegetables, fruit and organ meat. I already had the vitamin tablets to hand and there were vegetables available in the garden.

The real food 800 calorie diet

On waking: Cup of tea with semi skimmed milk

Breakfast: Small glass of orange juice and half a red/pink grapefruit plus a cup of tea with milk

Mid-morning: Cup of herb/fruit tea

Lunch: 2 bowls of soup prepared from homemade chicken stock with a) celery, kale, cabbage, carrot half an onion plus half a red pepper flavoured with holy basil and mint or b) mushrooms, courgettes, an onion, carrot, celery flavoured with herbs.

Or a salad comprised of lettuce, celery, spinach, grated carrot, grated courgette, red pepper, hard-boiled egg dressed with lemon juice plus water to drink

Mid- afternoon: herb/fruit tea

Evening meal: Ratatouille made from 1 tin of tomatoes, 4 courgettes, 1 aubergine, ½ an onion and ½ a red pepper flavoured with holy basil and mint. Served with steam roasted chicken or liver casserole made with aubergine, carrots, cabbage, flavoured with rosemary, or steam roasted chicken served with carrots, broad beans, peas and boiled courgette or stir-fry kidneys with celery, carrot, courgette, onion.

Evening drinks: herb/fruit tea

I wasn’t hungry and I lost seven pounds during the week. When I finally went for my pre-op assessment, my operation had been cancelled again because the theatre floors needed to be re-sealed which meant cancelling the entire weekend operating lists thus causing a knock-on effect further down the week. I didn’t have a revised date because my consultant was too busy doing bariatric surgery to fit me in and a new consultant had to be found. I was not a happy bunny and the nurse carrying out the assessment was worried about me staying on the diet for too long.

Other preparations

Meals for the freezer – this meant Chris didn’t have to do large amounts of cooking during the first week while he was looking after me.

Overnight bag – although I was booked as a day case, I still needed a nightdress, dressing gown, slippers and something to keep me occupied whilst waiting for the operation. I took some knitting and a Cadfael omnibus. The simple dishcloth knitting was wonderful for keeping me calm during the three and a half hour wait.

Herbal medicine – I put together a bottle of combined tinctures with the dosage clearly labelled in an accessible place so Chris would know exactly what to give me and when.

Energetic cleansing of the theatre and support for the operating team – I wasn’t in a fit state to do this myself so left it to those who were providing distant healing support for me, both my healing group and my Druid Grove. This is the chant I have used in the past when undertaking something similar for others.

Before an operation

Come cleansing silver rain

Descend upon this sterile space

Deposing fear and sorrow

Anger and sense of loss

Leaving all fresh and clean

Then light the violet flame

Burning brightly

Burnishing instruments

Rejuvenating equipment

Leaving all in perfect order

For what is to come.

Come now, Raphael,

Bring your hosts

To guard and watch this space

Spread your glittering wings

To comfort all in need

To heal all that is needful

To shine the light of peace and hope within

Call now the healers

Call them close

To watch and guide

To lend assistance to the operating team

That all may be done to the highest good

Of all concerned

Then, in recovery,

Let there be true care and compassion

Let the healers remain

To work on flesh and bone

On blood and organs too

Until all is as it should

As it can be

Let healing light shine forth

To hold each moment

To soothe, to comfort

To surround with love

Let all be done for the highest good

Of body and soul

To aid in life’s rich journey

And beyond

The Operation

We arrived at the hospital at 7am. The new surgeon bounced into my room at 7.30am, announced, "It's going to be horrible in there. If I have to open you up, you'll be here for five days or more." and bounced out again. He seemed to imply the difficulties had been caused by the number of antibiotics given to me during my previous admission but it could have been the length of time (over three years) I had been suffering with the condition.

The operating list started at 8am and I was second on the list. At 11am I was still sitting in my room knitting but luckily the sister/ward manager came in to check I was ok and gave me some more water. Apparently policies have changed and instead of nil by mouth they like you to drink an hour beforehand.

The surgeon did manage to remove eighty per cent of my gallbladder by keyhole surgery. (Chris said he used an old fashioned skeleton key as the major incision was two inches across!) and I came out of the theatre with five holes instead of three including a drain. He had removed three gallstones the size of musket balls. He said it was too dangerous to remove everything as the anterior wall was stuck to other organs. (It was quite sobering to subsequently read his discharge letter to my GP which described the operation as “very difficult”!)

In-patient medication
The anaesthetic cocktail plus liquid morphine and a heavy duty antibiotic (probably Augmentin which necessitated two blood tests the following morning to check liver and kidney function). After the morphine wore off I was given paracetamol and then codeine phosphate at four hourly intervals.

Post-operative issues
Pain – from coughing, movement and internal muscle spasms plus bruising from the anaesthetic venflon in the back of my hand.
Throat – the anaesthetist warned of a sore throat but didn’t mention the post-nasal drip, thick mucus which had to be removed by coughing and “semi-detached” skin flakes on the back of my tongue, plus dehydrated lung tissue arising from the anaesthetic.
Nausea – presumably a reaction to either the anaesthetic, morphine or both. I refused any anti-emetics because they made me feel “spaced out” for several hours when I was given them before.
Internal muscle and other tissue damage from the surgery
The abdominal drain- which prevented me sleeping in any position other than flat on my back and meant I must be aware of the position of the drain bag at all times.
Liver support – necessary because the liver processes all the toxins/medications pumped into me
Bowel regulation – both morphine and codeine derivatives cause acute constipation. Straining to pass “movements” can cause piles and damage newly healed internal organs, so is not advised. I was discharged with senacot tablets but didn’t take any. I had been warned before the operation about possible effects of “bile dumping” by herbalists if I ate fats but this wasn’t mentioned by the surgeon. Only the nurse who cared for me post- surgery and prior to discharge, whose wife had had the same operation, told me I might experience something similar to diarrhoea the day after eating fats.
De-hydration – caused by pre-op nil by mouth, only small amounts of water and two bouts of vomiting over a 36 hour period.

Issue Management Strategies
Although leaving hospital is scary, being in your own, quiet and comfortable home does improve the healing process. The regime of tinctures I’d blended included

Dandelion and burdock for liver support
Plantain – for tissue regeneration, healing dry membranes in lungs and anti-inflammatory
Yarrow – anti-inflammatory and bruising

To this I added
Crampbark - to deal with the internal muscle spasms I’d not anticipated
Fire cider vinegar and honey – I only needed one drink of this to sort out the mucous on the second day when it was becoming intolerable. If I’d thought about it beforehand, I might have made up a respiratory cider vinegar with rosemary, sage and marshmallow but I probably needed the garlic, chillies and other spices as it worked so quickly.
Natural yoghurt and homemade raspberry puree – taken soon after returning home to coat my stomach lining following the bouts of nausea and provide some sustenance after my fast. I had three small amounts at hourly intervals and was then able to face other small meals with no ill effects.

Pain control and bowel regulation - The first few days were not fun; you never realise how many things involve your abdominal muscles until they’ve been damaged! I was also determined to use the minimum of pain killers so I wouldn't have to use a laxative. I managed on three doses of soluble aspirin throughout the day for three days then Chris said those ought to stop, so from day 4 I had one last dose in the morning before travelling to the acute hospital to have the 9" of drain pulled out of my stomach and didn't take any more. It was amazing how much better I felt after this procedure. After half an hour’s rest I was able to walk outside into the garden and stand and pick my St John’s Wort flowers for the next hour!
The first bowel movements on day three were difficult but eased by day four. I tried to drink as much as possible and was eating lots of fruit and vegetables including fats.

Recovery
Every day I improved. For a whole week I did nothing but rest with the minimum of movement. On the Sunday evening I began to feel a little like myself. I was able to teach a few piano pupils in week 2 and a herb workshop at the farm on the Thursday. I had another workshop at the end of the third week, then we went off to Cornwall for two weeks to meet up with friends. I found I was able to drive and go for walks. I still get tired but I'm able to do most things. I have to remember not to carry anything heavy until three months are up at the end of October.

I am now able to eat anything, which isn't a very good thing as I've put back most of the weight I lost prior to the operation and I'd like the scales to go down instead of up! Still, there won't be any more scones, cream and jam for another year! I'm not in any pain apart from the gall bladder area still feeling raw sometimes. My bowels are working well and have had limited problems, for which I am extremely grateful.

I'm sure my quick recovery has a lot to do with the herbs I’ve taken and all the healing energy I've been sent from many different sources. Back in the 1980s, research was carried out which confirmed that people undergoing surgery who were prayed for recovered more quickly than those who weren’t, whether or not the patient knew about the prayers. I’m very grateful to everyone who has taken time to send positive thoughts in my direction.

Although this is a very personal story of abdominal surgery, I hope others will be able to take something away to help with their own circumstances.

Working with roots

It is not until you start working with roots that a sense of completion comes over you. Every root you dig or touch represents a life lost, a life offered. This plant will never grow again because you hold the means of its living in your hands.

It is a humbling experience which will, perhaps, enable you to wonder about the complexity of the living plant. How it anchors itself to the soil. How it lives for part of the year in darkness and solitude. How it knows when to grow forth into the light once again.

What is a root? In many plants the root is defined as the organ which grows beneath the soil, but some plants, such a mangrove trees, have roots growing up into the air or above water. These are called aerating roots, while roots which grow above the ground are known as aerial roots. The parts of a root are the xylem, the epidermis, the cortex, the root cap, the root hair, the phloem, and the cambium

The function of a root is to gather water from the soil and the minerals and nutrients it requires to flourish. These are drawn upwards from tiny root hairs to the rootlets or secondary roots into the main root system and from there into the plant stem where they are distributed via the xylem and phloem networks to where they are needed in the aerial parts – leaves, flowers, seeds etc.

Roots also anchor the body of the plant in the ground. A root system will often spread as wide as the plant canopy or beyond. They may also serve as the main reproductive part of the plant, sending up new shoots at every node. Herbs which have these extensive root systems are those like mint, nettle and bramble. They are adept at covering large masses of ground if left unchecked.

The roots of most vascular plant enter into symbiosis with certain fungi to form mycorrhizas, and a large range of other organisms including bacteria also closely associate with roots. Two plants which are grown specifically for this symbiotic relationship with nitrogen-fixing bacteria are runner beans and red clover. The large root nodules produce materials which enrich the soil.

A seed’s first root is called a radicle. It responds to gravity, growing downwards. This has caused substantial problems in trying to get seeds to germinate in space where there is no gravity, but has been overcome by increasing the light above the seed and reducing the amount below. There have been no problems growing seedlings in space which have been germinated on Earth.

A true root system is comprised of a primary root with secondary or lateral roots. Many root systems are diffuse with no primary root. Examples of herbs with these root systems are valerian, mullein, dyers woodruff and goldenseal.

Some plants have roots which emerge from the stem rather than from the primary root. Ivy, clover, strawberry and willow have adventitious roots, where roots originate from the stem, branches, leaves, or old woody roots.

Aerating roots of the mangroves have large breathing pores on their surfaces above the water to enable the exchange of gases, which would not be possible below.

Ivy also has completely aerial roots which held to anchor or prop the plant around the object it growing against.

Dandelion has a single, large primary root known as a tap root. It also has contractile roots which pull it further into the ground. The tap root stores sugars during the winter which enables the plant to survive. This is why roots pulled in spring or summer are more bitter than those pulled in autumn or during the winter.

Dandelion roots are fascinating and help to show the many different species which may grow in one locality. The roots I normally harvest in January from the field next to my parent’s bungalow have a hollow centre. Seemingly large roots are often the smaller roots of several plants which have twisted together over the growing season to form spirals. Roots dug from my main herb bed have single, large, solid tap roots with a very different consistency.

Burdock and comfrey also have deep tap roots which are difficult to harvest, especially when grown in rocky soil. Burdock root is very clever and instead of growing straight down, tends to veer off in a completely new direction after three to four inches. Roots like this are sometimes best harvested with a strong “digging stick” rather than a gardening fork.

Roots can be modified to store nutrients or act as an asexual means of reproduction. Potatoes are examples of stem tubers, while sweet potatoes are examples of root tubers or rhizomes.

Other examples of herbal root rhizomes are solomons seal, elecampane and angelica. All three have a very pungent scent ranging from delicate to profound, which is echoed when they are chewed. Solomons seal has a definite growing tip which can be broken off and left to remain in the soil if you wish to harvest the roots as ethically as possible. It is an American woodland plant and the tubers were eaten by the indigenous people and early settlers as a trail food

I have been growing Solomons seal for nearly ten years now. It was one of the first plants I bought to grow in my herb garden after hearing the wonderful success both Matthew Wood and Jim Macdonald were having with spinal issues using the root extract.

This autumn I took the plunge and harvested eight roots, leaving a strong patch of around twenty further plants to grow for the coming season. I had hoped to leave the growing parts in the ground, but the lateral roots were so firmly wrapped around each other, it was impossible to separate the plants. It took a good half hour of concentrated hosing with a water pipe to remove all the soil, stones and debris (including an ancient, twisted nail!) to reveal the pristine white tubers.

There were so many secondary roots, I cut these away from the tubers and made a double infused oil with them. It is rich and delicately scented. I have combined it with fresh horsechestnut oil into a salve for restoring vein strength and soothing a weak and inflamed shoulder.

Matthew Wood cautions against making a solomons seal root tincture with vodka. He believes that unless you use a high concentration alcohol, there will be a large amount of sweet substance precipitated into the tincture. The only high percentage alcohol we have in the house is a very special, single malt. There was no way Chris was going to donate it to my herbal medicines, so I made a vodka tincture as normal. Luckily, when I decanted it over a month later, there was no precipitate.

I began to take the tincture mixed with yarrow and plantain and I’m sure it has helped my weak shoulder. The pain is virtually gone, even when I lie on it. Any residual pain I’ve been feeling I’m putting down to falling outside Snow Hill station yesterday morning – I really should learn to negotiate the cracks in the paving stones better!

Everyone seems to find a root they enjoy chewing. Jim Macdonald loves calamus root. (I have planted several corms, but never got a plant to grow!). Henriette Kress loves elecampane root. I tried my first elecampane root this year, deciding to sacrifice one of my older plants as it died back at the beginning of October. The root was very scented to my palate, not as bad as angelica, but not something I would choose to spend a large amount of time with.

I sliced half the root for drying and tinctured the other half. Interestingly, the tincture did produce a white precipitate, but I will have to wait for someone to produce a phlem-filled cough before I can try it!

Angelica plants like me. Perhaps I shouldn’t say that, but they do grow prolifically in both my gardens. The first time I tried chewing the root, which was a second year plant in the last throes of life. It was disgusting, like chewing a bottle of scent! The second time I tried it, the plant was only a year old and although the scent taste was still strong, it wasn’t quite so unpalatable.

Angelica root is recommended for excruciating fibroid pains and as a nourishing tonic for menopausal women. Gail Faith Edwards suggested the best way to take angelica root is to infuse it in honey. Maddie washed the roots and poured the honey over them during the September workshop and it has been sitting on my windowsill in the sunshine since then. Recently I decanted it and tasted the honey. It’s an interesting flavour and one which should enhance a herbal tea, so I look forward to using it.

I love roots. Their strength and concentrated essence are so different from the aerial parts. They offer us a wonderful gift to use.

Bitters: Herbs which promote release?

This month’s Herbwifery forum blog party hosted by Kiva Rose is about bitters. You can find all the articles at http://bearmedicineherbals.com/?p=460

Bitters is something we think we instinctively recognise. It is a primal taste sensation on our tongue along with sweet, sour, salt and the new one, umami (fullness). Most herb books give the definition of a bitter as something which stimulate the stages of digestion including increasing saliva production and gastric juice activity including bile release (Brigitte Mars).

Jim MacDonald (http://www.herbcraft.org/properties.html) expands on this a little further by saying “Bitter herbs stimulate the secretion of digestive acids, juices and enzymes, which generally improve appetite & digestion, especially of fats/oils/lipids. You must taste bitters to receive their medicinal virtues. There are aromatic bitters (Calamus), bittersweet bitters (Celastrus), and just plain bitter bitters (Boneset).” I only know boneset out of Jim’s three examples, so I would change my herbs to angelica (aromatic bitter) and burdock (bittersweet bitter).

The herb I thought to talk about originally was dandelion (taraxacum officinale). It is perhaps the easiest herb to get close to when you are trying to understand the principle of a bitter. The leaves eaten raw stimulate your taste buds to such an extent, you know they are doing what they’re meant to do. They are wonderful additions to salads with other green leaves. I like to add them to cheese or ham sandwiches along with chickweed or sorrel. The sharpness of the greens works particularly well with the heavy fat of cheddar cheese.

I’ve been working very closely with dandelion this year. There is nothing like picking the first green leaves in winter time when it’s blowing a bitter gale laced with snowflakes and your fingers freeze as you dig up roots. While dandelion leaves support the kidneys and pack a massive dose of potassium, the roots, also bitter, support the liver.

David Hoffman advocates harvesting roots in the winter while they are at their most bitter. Brigitte Mars suggests harvesting roots in the spring when complex carbohydrates are broken down and released as sugars. I have a certain problem with this.

Before retirement, my father was a small farmer with a herd of suckler cows. He told me the animals would search out dandelion roots in the autumn when the roots were sweetest and would ignore them in the spring when the roots were bitter. I have given my workshop attendees roots to chew at different times of the year and they have all reported, as I have found, that spring roots are incredibly bitter and autumn roots are fat, juicy and have an unexpected sweetness to them.

Anyway, I digress. I didn’t want to get drawn into talking too much about dandelion, because there are many other bitter herbs which I grow or which grow around me. The ones which particularly spring to mind are burdock, angelica, motherwort, calendula, chamomile, vervain, boneset and the bright, vermillion splendour of rowan berries.

You only have to drink a cup of burdock leaf tea to know that the plant is a bitter. Burdock (arcticum lappa) is described by Matthew Wood as bitter, sweet and oily. He believes it acts as an alterative (tonic), stimulating increased secretion of bile, which in turn promotes better absorption of fats and oils through the small intestine.

Burdock supports the liver and helps with dry skin conditions. The root is said to be a quick acting diuretic (20 minutes after chewing) and has also been praised for stimulating appetite after severe illness when added to stews. (Miriam Kresh, Israel) Jim recommends it for cancer patients when they require nourishment during chemotherapy – again adding the root or young leaf stalks to stews or bone broths.

Angelica (angelica archangelica) is an aromatic, warming bitter. I always encourage my workshop attendees to smell the scent of angelica and everyone loves it. They’re not quite so keen when I give them angelica leaf tea to try, because of its bitterness. Chewing angelica root is an experience! It resembles chewing a bottle of scent and is really quite revolting, yet this root is the part which can take away the intense pain of fibroids. They also make an interesting liqueur if left for several years to mature.

Motherwort (Leonurus cardiaca) is another, interesting bitter herb. It helps regulate temperature during menopause, reduces period pains and is a gentle nervine tonic. A tea made from its aerial parts is an intensely bitter brew, but can be alleviated by mixing with lemon balm. There is an old saying that if you need something, you will be attracted to it and its bitterness will be tolerable.

Chamomile (Matricaria chamomilla ) is supposed to be a mild herb, enjoyed by all for its carmative, calming and restorative functions. Commercial chamomile tea bags have a gentle, soothing taste. The first time I grew the herb myself and made a cup of tea, I was horrified by the dreadful, bitter flavour. I was sure I must have been sent the wrong kind of chamomile. When I moaned to my herbalist friend, she laughed at me. “Chamomile is a bitter. You have tasted the proper taste of the herb!”

Calendula (calendula officinilis) is a herb you wouldn’t normally associate as a bitter, yet Matthew Wood classes its taste as such. He talks about its use for deep fevers and people who are “bone weary”, quoting herbalist Matthew Becker who likened it to boneset (Eupatorium perfoliatum).

It is curious that calendula, boneset and vervain (verbena officinalis) are all recommended for severe, bone aching fevers. Both boneset and vervain are incredibly bitter to the taste when taken in tea. Vervain can make you shudder from head to toe if the tea is too strong, even when taken with other herbs.

This diversity of actions by bitter herbs got me thinking about a possible basic principle of bitters, that of causing/promoting release or letting go. Since every herb has an affinity with a particular part of the body, there will be different secretions or emotions or other tissue states which are released. Dandelion releases digestive secretions, burdock releases bile, vervain releases both fevers and the need to keep on keeping on, which could otherwise be described as personal intensity. Boneset releases the intensity of aching bones.

So where do rowan berries come in all this? Several years ago my herbalist friend presented me with a jar of rowan jelly. “You’ll like it,” she said, “herb people like bitter flavours.” I took it home and put it on the dinner table with a Sunday roast. Everyone tried it, but they all agreed the sweetness of the jelly was overtaken by the bitterness of the rowan berries. I could just about tolerate it, but one day I shall make my own and see if my tastes have changed!

References:

Hoffman, D The Complete Illustrated Holistic Herbal 1996 Element Books

Mars, B Dandelion Medicine 1999 Storey Books

Wood, M The Practice of Traditional Western Herbalism : Basic Doctrine, Energetics and Classification 2004 North Atlantic Books

Surrounded by Scent

Scents have captured me on several occasions over the past few weeks. The first was the cow parsley hidden behind the fence beside the station bus stop. The aroma always makes me think of carefree lunchtimes in Priory Park in Warwick when two friends and I would use our cherished sixth form freedom to go and play on the slides in the adventure playground. The cow parsley grew everywhere, hiding the sides of the deep bowl where the adventure playground was set so we could enjoy ourselves without fear of being seen acting like children instead of decorous young ladies!

It was then I also learned about cow parsley’s other name – Queen Anne’s Lace, a term I’d not heard beforehand. Today the name is used by American Herbwives for wild carrot (daucus carota), with Jim Macdonald and Robin Rose Bennett reporting interesting uses for the seeds as a uterine tonic and contraceptive. Cow parsley is Anthriscus sylvestris and looks like a more delicate version of the wild parsnip (heracleum lanatum) which grows in great profusion in my Cotswold herb beds.

Cow parsley also taught me about knowing my seasons. When I was fifteen, I had a vivid dream about visiting a chapel and finding a wounded Civil War soldier. The dream became my first attempt at a short story. I wrote about the heroine walking down a road smelling cow parsley in the heat of August. When I showed it to a family friend who was also a writer, he gently pointed out that cow parsley didn’t bloom in August and I must take care to be accurate in my descriptions if I wanted to convince my readers about a time and location. It was a lesson I never forgot. (One version of the story can be found on http://www.springfieldsanctuary.co.uk/mainfiles/stories_and_poems/story_03.htm)

Another scent which has captured me has been honeysuckle. As I sit down on the platform bench first thing in the morning, I am suddenly arrested by a powerful perfume so beautiful it takes my breath away. The honeysuckle grows around the corner, but its influence carries a long way. It makes me want to try the recipes I have found in Julie Brueton-Seal’s new book, “Hedgerow Medicines” which tells how to produce a virus-beating honey with honeysuckle blossom. Debs is already infusing a jarful and has enthused about the glorious smell and flavour. (http://herbal-haven.co.uk/blog/?p=86) I wish I could make some as well, but the honeysuckle which used to hang over my garden wall has now disappeared since Chris and our next door neighbour installed a new boundary fence two weeks ago.

Many people are drawn to herbs by their scent and somehow feel cheated if a plant has no aroma. Sometimes the scent is subtle, such a dandelion flowers and ground ivy, but sometimes the lack of scent is a mask for the bitterness of the plant’s taste. With both burdock and motherwort, you are lulled into a sense of false security by the absence of scent until you bite into the leaves and wish you hadn’t!

Much has been written about the need for bitters in modern diets. We expect everything to be sweet and bland, or spicy and fiery, yet what our digestive juices crave is bitterness to stimulate production. Maybe things will change if we educate enough palates!