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.

Crampbark, native or not?

Before the new owners of the farm next to my parents moved in, they decided to plant several acres of woodland. As the first triangle of arable field was transformed, I stopped to chat with the foresters’ foreman. He reeled off a list of “native English woodland trees” including hawthorn, blackthorn, wild cherry and Guelder rose (vibernum opulum).

“You’ll be able to come and harvest here if you like,” he offered but I told him I already had access to all his varieties on my own land. 

I took it for granted that his idea of native woodlands species really were indigenous plants. Guelder rose is one of my favourite Sanctuary trees. I was first introduced to it during a tour of a Birmingham herbalist’s garden back in the 1990s.

“Do you know crampbark?” she asked me and when I told her I had read about it, she remarked what a useful herb it was. “The bark is amazing,” she said. “When you tincture it, the maceration turns red.” She showed me the bark pigment and said no herbalist should be without it.

The following year I included a small crampbark bush in my order from Poyntzfield Herb Nursery in Scotland. It was quite small and delicate but grew well enough. The following year I was searching for short leave lime and spindle trees. The nearest nursery was in Northern Derbyshire so I added another crampbark and two red currant bushes to my collection. This bush, although the same age as my original, was twice the size and the branches were twice as thick, although everything else was the same.

They both flowered well in springtime. It was at this point I gathered the bark since I’d read that crampbark was the only tree where you harvested bark when the tree was flowering rather than during their dormant period. As my friend had promised, the tincture was deep red and proved very effective in reducing nocturnal leg cramps. In subsequent years I harvested bark in winter and there was no noticeable difference in the efficacy of the tincture.

My final Guelder rose came from a tree nursery in Kent and lives in the hedge in my Solihull garden. It is completely overshadowed by hawthorn trees above and gets a minimum of light but it is still growing albeit slowly. After two seasons it has yet to produce flowers or berries but I live in hope. The other two trees took several years before flowering but now they are prolific in both flowers and the bitter, crimson berries which appear to be eschewed by the local bird population as there were still berries left from 2013 when the flowers came out this spring.

If Guelder rose were indeed a native English species, its herbal use should be well documented. I decided to start my investigation with Culpepper but he was strangely silent. Anne MacIntyre only talked about Native American uses, which seemed strange if the tree had been growing in England for many centuries.

When I finally looked at the history of Guelder Rose, I discovered it was introduced to England from Dutch province of Guelderland, possibly in the sixteenth century when John Parkinson was writing his herbal encyclopedia. England was closely allied with Holland at this time as the nearest Protestant kingdom in Europe and new species of plants and trees were being introduced to aristocratic gardens from both Europe and the new world. Horse chestnuts were also imported during this century and both trees have been integrated into the British flora.

Bartram gives the keynote of the Guelder rose as cramp. He notes the actions as antispasmodic, astringent, nerve and muscle relaxant and sedative. He lists the uses as muscular cramps, pains in abdomen, womb, ovaries, back, stomach, intestines, bladder. Convulsions in children. Epididymitis. Painful menstruation, flooding menses of menopause. Polymyalgia. Nervous irritability, angina, intermittent claudication, arteritis, palpitation. Earache. Acute bronchitis, asthma. Muscular rheumatism. Bedwetting.

Anne MacIntyre tells us that crampbark’s active constituents are coumarins, catechin, epicatechin, bitters (Viburnin) arbutin, valeric acid, salicylates, tannins and resin. She also warns that raw berries are poisonous but can be eaten if cooked and any plant extract should be avoided if you take anticoagulant drugs.

Bartram’s list of crampbark uses are impressive Annie makes them more understandable by breaking them down into parts of the body. She also expands their uses based on Native American and other cultures.

Digestion: Relaxes tension and spasm. Relieves stress related disorders such as colic, nausea, wind, abdominal cramps and IBS.

These uses mirror that of chamomile and it makes me wonder whether early English herbalists would have used chamomile where Native Americans would use crampbark because each were easily available in their locality. I’m currently about to purchase my copy of John Parkinson’s Encyclopaedia and I’m hoping to discover what he wrote about the tree.

Circulation: Dilates the arteries, reduces blood pressure. Used for palpitations and angina. Releases tension in arteries, relieves leg cramps, helpful in Reynaud’s syndrome.

This makes me wonder how motherwort and crampbark would work together to alleviate the palpitations felt by menopausal women.

Musculoskeletal system: Used as a general music relaxant for voluntary and involuntary muscular cramp and tension. Used for tension headaches.

These uses encourage me to try making a crampbark oil this winter. After the success of the St John’s wort and agrimony salve for relieving arm muscle tension, knee pain and period pain, I’m wondering if the addition of crampbark or even a crampbark salve on its own would be even more effective. This might be really helpful for children and adults with problems of limb spasticity where tremors and spasms are a constant challenge.

Reproductive system: This was the major use for Native American and pioneer women. Crampbark can be used as a both a uterine sedative and tonic. Annie writes that aesculetin and scopoletin have a powerful antispasmodic action relieving cramps. Salicin is also a good pain reliever but should be avoided by anyone who is allergic to aspirin. Crampbark can be used in spasmodic dysmenorrhea for bearing-down pain, back and thigh pain, heavy bleeding, endometriosis, threatened/repeated miscarriage and to prepare for labour. It helps to prevent uterine irritability, over-strong contractions, false labour pains and afterpains. It also prevents excessive flow during menopause.

Crampbark is also used as an antispasmodic for benign prostatic hypertrophy. Its astringent actions is also helpful in prolapse.

Respiratory system: Crampbark relaxes spasm in bronchi and can be useful for soothing harsh irritating coughs and asthma as an adjuvant/aid to other medication.

My crampbark trees are currently providing a glorious autumn feast of colour in the Cotswolds.  I had cause to be grateful to them back in the early summer when I inadvertently stepped into a rabbit hole whilst picking elderflowers. I thought I must have been electrocuted from the searing pain at the top of my calf but I guess that’s what it feels like if you hyper-extend a muscle without warning. When it became almost impossible to walk, I set about collecting some crampbark leaves and flowers and made myself a tea. I drank half and put a fomentation around my leg. I repeated both several times during the evening.

The next morning I was able to move slowly and the pain had diminished. By the afternoon I was able to stand and dig. The following day I was walking normally. This, to me, seemed like a miraculous recovery due entirely to the crampbark. Now I know so much more about this plant I shall be using it in many different situations.

Lament for a missed Indian Summer

September is usually a beautiful, busy month. While the sun shines with diminishing warmth I am usually to be found scurrying around hedgerows and my garden, harvesting the last of flowers, fruits and seeds.

This year feels different. After a dry summer which has caused the ground in the Sanctuary to crack and the two minor springs to stop running entirely, the rain has now come to ease our water problems but temperatures have plummeted. Although I’m grateful, this now brings an added worry of whether the tomatoes will ripen or will I lose my significant crop to rot? As it is, I’m now picking every day or alternate days and using any damaged tomatoes in soup.  

Two nettle roots growing next to the tomatoes are constantly sending up new shoots, so these are my autumn bounty for green minerals.

Spiced Tomato and Basil soup

1lb tomatoes (or an amount you have to use)

2 medium potatoes

2 carrots

A large handful of ripped basil leaves

One medium onion

1 red chilli (adding the seeds will produce a fiery soup!)

Peel, dice and sweat the onion with the chopped chill until soft. Peel and slice the potato and carrots and chop the tomatoes. Add vegetables to the cooked onions and cover with 3 pints of cold water. Bring to the boil, adding seasoning and basil (or any other favourite herbs). Simmer for half an hour with the saucepan lid on until everything is cooked. Blend or liquidise, then strain through a sieve to remove tomato skins.

Nettle, sweet potato and tomato soup

1 colander full of fresh young nettles

1 large sweet potato

1lb tomatoes (or any amount you have to use)

2 carrots

4 cloves of garlic

8” length of lovage stem

1 medium onion

1” fresh root ginger

Peel and crush the garlic and leave for fifteen minutes before cooking. Peel and dice the onion and root ginger and sweat in a large saucepan with the crushed garlic for five minutes in your oil of choice.  Peel and slice the sweet potato and carrots. Slice or chop the tomatoes. Wash the nettles if necessary. Add everything to the saucepan and cover with 3 pints cold water. Bring to the boil adding the chopped lovage and seasoning. Simmer for half an hour until everything is cooked. Blend and sieve to remove tomato skins and any stringy bits from the nettles.

September is also the time of year to think about storing anti-virals and vitamin C ready for the winter. My favourite method is elderberry elixir or cordial and gathering as many rosehips as I can find and store.

Fire cider vinegar is another staple in my household. You can follow Rosemary Gladstar’s original recipe of equal parts of fresh garlic, root ginger and horseradish root but add in whatever spice you fancy. I always add rosehips for vitamin C but if you have any fresh chillis they are good to complement the turmeric powder. If you wanted to increase the mineral content of the vinegar you could add nettle seed or fresh young nettle leaves or shoots if you have any.

Don’t forget another autumn harvest, honey. Many beekeepers are collecting their golden treasure this month, so if you have any near you, it is worth asking if they will sell you a few pounds of fresh honey to last you over the winter.

Think what you might want to add to this honey. Elderberries taste divine but make sure you infuse it in the fridge if you don’t want purple overflow everywhere from fermenting berries. Rosehip honey is another favourite but does involve hours of cutting and scooping out the stones and hairs before blending the flesh with the honey. It is worth waiting until after the first frost when the hips become soft so you can squeeze out the centre without ending up with itching thumbs.

Don’t forget your honeyed roots. Angelica and elecampane are two roots which produce an interestingly flavoured infused honey which may be more palatable in this form rather than in tea. You may want to experiment with sweet calamas root in the same way if you have some to harvest. Don’t be surprised if your infused honey is thinner than the original runny honey. This is the result of osmosis whereby the honey pulls liquid from the fresh roots. It should store for several years but keep an eye on it.

It looks as if this year will be another good apple year. Windfalls from my tree are producing many boxes of frozen applesauce and there are new jars of apple and red currant jelly on the larder shelves. If you are looking for something different to add to your complement of bitters, try rowan/mountain ash or crampbark/Guelder rose berry and apple jelly. They will complement any rich meat but also get your digestive juices flowing. Bitter jellies are an acquired taste, so less is more when you try it for the first time.

One of the most exciting things I heard at our festival was Fred Gillam talking about his comfrey bath bombs for serious bruising following accidents and the news that a London herbalist is experimenting with Crampbark flower and berry tinctures to treat muscle cramps on different energetic levels.

Guess what I’m going to be experimenting with this autumn!

Working with bark - another tree gift

This post has been written as part of the February UK Herbarium Blog party. You can find the list of other articles here.

Tree bark is not something which immediately springs to mind when you think about herbal medicine, but when winter is upon us and fresh herbs are difficult to come by, trees can offer us their bark to treat many different conditions.

Horse chestnut (Aesculus hippocastanum) was the first tree to teach me how to work with bark medicinally. It was February 2008, three months after I developed an inflammatory condition which made my ankles swell and itch and kept me at home on the sofa for nearly three weeks. The itching meant my veins were in a bad way and although I recovered sufficiently to go back to work, it was likely I would always suffer with swollen ankles as my job meant I was standing up for several hours at a time when I was training.

I knew horse chestnut conkers could be used both as a salve and tincture to help strengthen vein walls, but it was the wrong time of year for conkers and I didn’t have any oil, only a very muddy tincture which I began to take in minute doses.

Around that time, Henriette Kress made a comment on her email discussion group about using horse chestnut bark if nothing else was available, so the next time I was down at the farm, I collected an armful of sticky bud twigs and started peeling off the bark in short strips. It was easier from younger twigs rather than older branches. I ended up with a sore thumb but the oil was just as good as conker double infused oil. Even better, my ankles recovered and hardly ever swell unless I’m very tired and run down.

Crampbark (Viburnum opulum) was the next bark I worked with. I purchased my first tree from Poyntzfield Herb Nursery by mail order in 2006. It was very small and I didn’t want to remove any prunings, so the next year I made a trip to Northern Derbyshire and brought back another larger specimen along with two short leaf lime and two spindle trees.

Crampbark is a strange tree because you harvest the bark when the tree is flowering, unlike all other barks which are taken before the sap rises. I’ve now made tinctures from bark taken both when flowering and when the tree is dormant and there doesn’t seem to be any major difference. The tincture is a wonderful shade of dark red and can be used for any kind of muscle cramp. I’ve given it to people with night time leg cramps and it’s been very successful.

Wild cherry (Prunus serontina) was my next bark. I knew it was good for dry coughs, but couldn’t seem to find any trees. My father planted three wild cherries in the rickyard many years ago, but they’ve never flourished. I did take some prunings from them in 2009, removing the bark, which I dried. I used it for the first time this month, when Chris returned from his annual ski trip with a cough which rocked the whole house and turned him into “blob” for several days.

I tried the bark in a tea with other cough herbs and when that didn’t work; I brought out the cherry blossom elixir I’d made from the tree at the bottom of our garden two years ago. I mixed the cherry blossom elixir with an elixir of horehound and hyssop and dosed Chris with it every few hours. He seemed to either sleep or cough alternately during the day and the next day he was much improved and the cold came out.

What I’d like to try in the future is make a cherry bark tincture and mix that with equal amounts of the cherry blossom elixir and see how that works, although with all honesty, I’d really rather not have to deal with a similar cough ever again!

The one bark medicine everyone is familiar with is willowbark. It has been mentioned in medical texts from ancient times as a remedy for aches and fever. The white willow,(Salix alba), has been the one most used in European medicine. Maud Grieve wrote that it was a “Tonic, antiperiodic and astringent”. It was used in dyspepsia connected with debility of the digestive organs. She also said, “In convalescence from acute diseases, in worms, in chronic diarrhoea and dysentery, its tonic and astringent combination renders it very useful.” The astringency came from the tannins in the bark.

The Eclectic herbalists in America used the black or pussy willow, (Salix niger) for a very different purpose. Matthew Wood in his Earthwise Herbal says it was a sexual tonic, used when the specific indications included nocturnal emissions, impotence, ovarian pain before and after menses, nervous disorders and leucorrhea. Mrs Grieve said the bark was prescribed in gonorrhoea. She also said that a liquid extract of the willow bark was prepared and used in mixture with other sedatives for ovarian pain.

Matthew Wood said that pussy willow could also be used as a pain reliever, like white willow, as it also contained salicin. He said “it acts like aspirin but is soothing to the stomach instead of irritating. He quotes Louise Tenney, who wrote in 1983 in her book, Today’s Herbal Health, that “Willow is valued as a nerve sedative because it leaves no depressing after-effects.”

I had never worked with willow until this month when we held a bark workshop. I cut some shoots from my young pollarded crack willow (Salix fragilis) and after we removed the bark we made a tea and a decoction. The aspirin-taste was much more noticeable in the tea, hitting the very back of my tongue. The decoction was a much deeper yellow colour and had an almost smoky flavour. The taste came on both sides of the tongue towards the back, but not on the same spot as the tea, which was really interesting.

There are still several barks I have yet to work with. Oak (Quercus robur) bark can be used for severe skin conditions where a tannin-laden astringent is called for. The bark of Oregon Grape (Mahonia aquifolium) lower branches can be substituted for the root if it is sufficiently yellow. I’m keen to try out its many properties. Oregon Grape is related to the Barberry (Berberis vulgaris) and the bark can be carefully harvested to obtain yellow berberine either from stems or root bark. Jim Macdonald uses apple bark’s astringent properties for digestive and other problems.

My first year apprentices have been working with elder bark during January. There was a lively discussion about which constituents within the bark should help with bruising since none of the literature seemed to mention this effect referring only to the leaves. Historically the bark has been harvested, dried and powdered as an emetic. One of the apprentices used her bark salve on her husband’s bruised foot and proved it did help as the bruise was much reduced the following day.

My feelings on the subject are very much tied up with the season. Sometimes barks have a specific use, well researched and documents, but sometimes another part of the tree is not available, so you use what you have access to. In winter, this means the bark. If it can help, it will and for that I shall always be grateful.

Something new

“What’s been new for you this year?” Maddie asked during the August workshop. This post is a more considered response to the question than I was able to make at the time.

My first new loves must be mint honey and creating new elixirs. Mint is one of the two herbs which graced my childhood. On alternate Sundays we would have roast lamb. In summer this would be served with mint sauce, in winter with onion sauce.

Most people rave about mint tea when they first start trying herbal drinks. It is not my first choice, unless it is chocolate mint freshly picked from the Sanctuary. To me, mint tea belongs to the aftermath of a stomach bug when I can’t tolerate anything else.

I’ve grown several different varieties of mint for years – peppermint, applemint, spearmint, Swiss mint, pineapple mint, eau de cologne mint, lemon mint, lime mint, red mint, black mint and chocolate mint. The first three do battle for supremacy along the left hand border of my garden while others grow mournfully in tubs on the patio. The chocolate mint runs riot in the main Sanctuary bed, but I don’t try to cull it as everyone who goes there falls in love with it.

I love the smell of mint freshly crushed, but until this year I’ve never really engaged with the plant itself. Two months ago, Kiva Rose gave the recipe for her mint honey with lemon zest and juice. Lemon and honey is another comforting memory from childhood. A special drink my mother would make when we were ill with colds. The combination of lemon and mint with honey appears to have done something quite amazing to my taste buds. It is not often I sit and drool over something, but mint honey does it for me!

I was reading Carol Rogers' chapter on menopause recently, whilst preparing to give a talk to the Mercian Herb Group and she listed several foods which are especially nourishing for women during this time. Honey was one of them. Avocados were another. I have been relishing avocados for a year or so. Honey has been an important part of my life for the past three years, when I first became perimenopausal. It is easy to see how mint, which is a cooling herb, lemon and honey all combine to provide something richly nourishing for my particular time of life.

Needless to say, when I found applemint growing wild on the banks of the Catherine de Barnes canal last weekend, I gathered as much as I could and spent the next day putting up a further 2lb jar of lemon mint honey to add to the jar already infusing. It’s not really a flavour to spread on your toast, but it will be fantastic in drinks.

Chris loves honey and he was grumbling the other evening that all the jars I buy seem to disappear leaving him nothing to have for breakfast. I showed him all the herbal honeys sitting on the kitchen window sill and asked why he hadn’t been tempted to try them for himself.

“I daren’t” he replied. “I don’t know what is to eat, what is medicine and what is to be avoided while you go and lie down in another room.”

His reply had me in stitches for several minutes. When the children were small, there was a memorable occasion at Greenbelt when the mere offer of mint tea had two of them jumping up from their sickbed and declaring their complete recovery. It was good to be reminded.

I also loved the reference to Terry Pratchett’s dwarf bread which is carried on expeditions and is only eaten once everything else including clothes and soles of boots has been consumed. (Guess which books I was reading on holiday!)

Anyway, to return to the subject of honey, those currently infusing are:-
Blossom and pineapple mint and sage leaves, sage, wild bergamot, rosehip, mint and lemon, angelica root and St John’s wort honey. The latter was begun because Darcey said she wanted to make some to see if it would turn red like all other SJW concoctions. She had no access to fresh SJW flowers, so I decided to carry out the experiment myself.

The half jar of honey and yellow blossoms sat on the window sill next to the infusing SJW oil for weeks and nothing appeared to happen until last week when we had several days of hot sun. Finally the honey started to change colour. It won’t be the deep crimson of the oil, but it will be a definite SJW derivative.

I have already written about my new elixirs. I decanted them all last weekend, ending up in a sticky, sweet surfeit after trying them. Even Chris agreed they tasted far too good to be medicine!

The other completely new things in my herbal life have been plants – lemon geranium and lemon eucalyptus, pleurisy root, ashwaghanda and ox-eye daisy. Ashwaghanda is proving a total delight even though I have not yet tasted her. I was going to harvest the roots of both my plants this year, but after a member of the Herbwifery Forum advised that the roots were stronger, the older the plant, I decided to leave them to see if they will over-winter on the patio and return to me next year. It has been a real joy watching the flowers appear and produce beautiful bright green berries which then turn scarlet as the leaves become brown.

The ox-eye daisy has a tale all of its own. Several years ago, Henriette enthused about ox-eye daisy delivering a tasty and nourishing tea. It caught my fancy, but finding seeds proved a real problem. They only seemed to be available in wild flower meadow mixes, not on their own. My father came to the rescue, using his considerable charm on a local seed merchant who let him have an ounce of seed for nothing. I dug a suitable sized patch of ground in the main herb bed, planted the seeds and waited.

It was a good job I didn’t hold my breath, because nothing grew I convinced myself the plot had become overgrown and overshadowed with other herbs, thereby killing the seeds. I was really disappointed.

This spring I noticed a plant with strange leaves was growing in the middle of the herb bed. I presumed it was another wild flower like white or red campion but decided to let it flower before I pulled it up just to be sure. Imagine my delight when the newcomers turned out to be ox-eye daises! I checked the leaves against the moon daises in my garden and they were exactly the same shape, but larger. Obviously the seeds take several years to germinate, so I should not have been disappointed when they didn’t appear the first year they were planted.

Then I noticed their energetic properties – they help women come to terms with the menopause. It made me laugh and feel slightly humble. The plant had waited to enter my life until it was needed. I was very grateful and made a special batch of flower essence to share with others.

There have been several other new herbal products I have made this year: –
 milk thistle leaf vinegar for its minerals,
 dried mullein stalk tincture for hormonal incontinence,
 hawthorn flower brandy to add to Christmas custards,
 crampbark tincture for nocturnal leg cramps,
 elecampagne flower essence for deep grief
 hyssop, horehound, liquorice and marshmallow leaf cough syrup (a classic)
 fennel tincture and liqueur
 chive flower vinegar
 nettle seed salt

The crampbark tincture was made from slivers of red bark collected from twigs when the bush was flowering – not the usual time to collect bark from deciduous trees or bushes! Janey prompted me to create the tincture. She mentioned she was having terrible trouble sleeping because of nocturnal leg cramps, so I suggested she tried taking some milk of magnesia to increase her intake of magnesium and gave her some twigs to start de-barking and cover with alcohol.

When she next returned to the Sanctuary, I asked her whether her cramps had improved. She said she had started taking the milk of magnesia immediately and the first night she had taken a spoonful of the crampbark tincture her cramps had disappeared and never returned!

Another tincture I am planning to make this weekend is Solomon seal root. The plants have become well established over the past ten years. The good reports I have heard about using the tincture to support back health from Jim MacDonald and Matthew Wood have inspired me to try making some for myself. It is not a tincture which is widely available commercially, so it will be exciting to see how it works.

One of the wonderful things about herbs is there is so much to learn and experience. It doesn’t matter how many you grow or what you make, each year is a new beginning and a real opportunity for growth.