Remembering the dead
“They will always be there, it is our sight that grows weaker”
Drummer beat the measure slow
Soft the pipes let horns sound low
Then rise to greet all those who come
Drawn now towards us by the drum.
All around they wait for those
Whose sight has faded with their woe
Who cannot hear the loved one’s call
Who weep for those who went before
We bear their love, their pride, their joy
Upon ourselves until that day
When, as the sparks, we too will rise
To join our loved ones in the skies
Then beat the drum and blow the horn
Remember we are always one
With those before and those to come
A universe of light and love.
SJH 1995
At this time of year, when the earth is preparing for the long sleep of winter, I find it helpful to spend time thinking of endings and beginnings. All change is scary, but it is the one constant factor of our lives. Nothing stays the same, no matter how much we wish it to do so.
So many times I find myself paralyzed considering what may happen or what needs to be done, only bringing myself back to normality by realising I don’t have to worry about that particular event or issue at this moment in time. What is important now is what is happening now or what needs to happen to enable me to do the next small thing which has to be completed in the immediate future.
Herbs are great allies in helping me focus. Not just medicinally when I’m feeling emotionally fragile or stressed, but reading or thinking about them helps to calm me down after dealing with a difficult situation.
Last Tuesday night I decided to pamper myself with a long, hot bath after a draining four hour car journey following a workshop where I’d been on my feet for most of the day. My brain decided to target a particularly frustrating argument I wouldn’t be able to engage in and I found myself becoming increasingly agitated rather than relaxed!
Then, out of the blue, I suddenly realised I did have the ingredients to make a nettle and rose petal cordial I’ve been wanting to try for two years. I was so happy, all the negative emotions completely disappeared and I felt sufficiently content and relaxed to fall asleep once I got into bed.
For the second year running, I have no special celebrations to attend this weekend, but I know many family members will be dropping by. There are two large bags of nettle and horseradish roots waiting to be scrubbed clean and processed along with five huge, yellow quinces – the first harvest from my quince tree.
I wish you all a peaceful and contemplative Celtic New Year as we travel together into another new season.
Friday, 31 October 2008
Wednesday, 8 October 2008
Blackberry cordial
Debs asked for a blackberry cordial recipe. Here's what I've come up with.
I’ve been looking at Kings Dispensary on Henriette’s site and come up with this recipe as something fairly easy to make as a blackberry cordial.
1lb blackberries
1oz cinnamon (in sticks or powdered)
1oz cloves (whole or powdered)
1 inch root ginger (grated)
1lb honey/sugar
¼ pt alcohol
Cover blackberries with smallest amount of water. Add prepared spices and simmer for 20 minutes. Mash blackberries, strain and measure liquid (should be around 1pint). Clean saucepan, pour liquid back into saucepan together with 1lb honey or sugar per pint of liquid. Heat gently, stirring until honey is dissolved. Add 1/4pint of alcohol of choice. Pour into hot, sterile bottles, seal. Label and date.
Alternative method
The original King’s recipe called for the spices to be percolated in alcohol separately and blackberry juice to be added to syrup together with purified talcum! It might be fun to try making the syrup a different way.
Prepare separate tinctures of ginger, cloves and cinnamon. (i.e. fill small glass jar with single spice, cover with vodka, remove air bubbles, refill with alcohol, cover with screw top lid, place in dark, cool, cupboard for three weeks shaking occasionally, then strain and bottle, label and date.)
Pick large bowl of blackberries (2-3lbs). Squeeze fruit until 1 pint of juice is obtained.
Prepare 1 pint of syrup by dissolving 1lb sugar or honey in 1 pint water. Cool.
Add syrup to blackberry juice then add 1 fluid oz of each of three spice tinctures. Stir well. Bottle in sterilised containers, label and date.
Dose (1/2 -1 fluid oz)
I’ve been looking at Kings Dispensary on Henriette’s site and come up with this recipe as something fairly easy to make as a blackberry cordial.
1lb blackberries
1oz cinnamon (in sticks or powdered)
1oz cloves (whole or powdered)
1 inch root ginger (grated)
1lb honey/sugar
¼ pt alcohol
Cover blackberries with smallest amount of water. Add prepared spices and simmer for 20 minutes. Mash blackberries, strain and measure liquid (should be around 1pint). Clean saucepan, pour liquid back into saucepan together with 1lb honey or sugar per pint of liquid. Heat gently, stirring until honey is dissolved. Add 1/4pint of alcohol of choice. Pour into hot, sterile bottles, seal. Label and date.
Alternative method
The original King’s recipe called for the spices to be percolated in alcohol separately and blackberry juice to be added to syrup together with purified talcum! It might be fun to try making the syrup a different way.
Prepare separate tinctures of ginger, cloves and cinnamon. (i.e. fill small glass jar with single spice, cover with vodka, remove air bubbles, refill with alcohol, cover with screw top lid, place in dark, cool, cupboard for three weeks shaking occasionally, then strain and bottle, label and date.)
Pick large bowl of blackberries (2-3lbs). Squeeze fruit until 1 pint of juice is obtained.
Prepare 1 pint of syrup by dissolving 1lb sugar or honey in 1 pint water. Cool.
Add syrup to blackberry juice then add 1 fluid oz of each of three spice tinctures. Stir well. Bottle in sterilised containers, label and date.
Dose (1/2 -1 fluid oz)
Wednesday, 1 October 2008
Sing the Song of Harvest
A Song for Mabon
Summer glories are past
Autumn fruits here at last
Here's a health to the land and the flocks
As the evenings draw in
Let us gather our kin
Singing praises for harvest and crops
Singing praises for harvest and crops
Now the apples shine bright
And the nuts are all ripe
Here's a health to the trees and the briars
As the light equals dark
Let us all strike a spark
Singing praises for wood, copse and hedge
Singing praises for wood, copse and hedge
Mother Elder stands firm
Berries black on her stems
Here's a health to the herbs and the flowers
As the sun looses heat
So we gather to meet
Singing praises for plants, wild and free
Singing praises for plants, wild and free
Now the leaves are on fire
As we gather in byres
Here's a health for the harvest and crops
As we all eat our fill
Please recall if you will
To sing praises and thanks for the year
To sing praises and thanks for the year
Sarah J Head , September 2004
Growing up on a small arable farm in the heart of English countryside, harvest conjures up furiously-busy August days, golden severed stubble, dust laden cereals and barley hales sticking to everything. September and October herald a very different kind of gathering with splashes of colour emblazoning hedgerows.
In past years I gathered bright red haws and black elderberries during the August Bank Holiday and the first weekend in September, but this year, whilst haws were ripe both in field and garden; elderberries were still green and hard. I had to be content with putting up hawthorn brandy and vinegar and trust my parents would find time to gather elderberries for me whilst I was half way across the world enjoying myself.
Ever since I started working with herbs, elderberries have been one of my most important harvests. For two years I spent the first weekend in September at the Bristol Kite Festival. When not watching amazing kite teams like The Decorators with their eight revolution kites, I was sitting by the caravan stripping berries from their stalks and then squeezing juice into a plastic bowl by twisting them around inside a length of old cotton sheet ready to make Non Shaw’s elderberry rob. I always wondered what other festival goers made of my purple stained cloth and fingers!
Elderberries are a wonderful way to introduce people to making their own herbal medicine. At my September workshop last year, a new participant was greeted by having a bowl of elderberries thrust into her arms together with a fork and she spent the next half hour happily stripping berries ready to make Kiva Rose’s elderberry elixir. She was also given a handout with several recipes for different cordials to take home with her.
She emailed me the following week saying she had gone out and picked her own supply of elderberries from trees nearby and made a cordial which she had taken into work to treat her colleagues’ dreadful colds. She said everyone had been very grateful and impressed by how well the elderberry worked to make them feel better.
The elixir prepared in September’s sunshine was distributed to women who came to my first home workshop in November. Everyone loved the taste so much; there were grumbles about the dosage being only one dropperful at a time!
Elderberry Rob 1
from ‘The Countryside Cook Book’ by Gail Duff.
1.8kg (4lbs) elderberries, weighed on stemtwo 5cm (2inch) pieces cinnamon stick1 piece ginger root bruised2 chips nutmeg5ml (1 teaspoon) allspice berries5ml (1teaspoon) cloves275ml (1 ½ pint water)350g (12 oz) honey to each 375-ml (1 pint) liquid150ml (1/4 pint) brandyTake the elderberries from the stalks. Put them into a saucepan with the spices and water. Bring them gently to the boil and simmer them until the pan is full of juice, about 20 minutes. Put a piece of muslin or an old linen tea towel over a large bowl. Pour the elderberries through it. Gather the sides together and squeeze out as much juice as you can. Measure it and return to the cleaned saucepan. Bring the juice to the boil and add the honey. Stir for it to dissolve and then boil the syrup for 10 minutes. Take the pan from the heat and wait until the syrup stops bubbling. Pour in the brandy. Pour the hot cordial into hot sterilised bottles and cork it tightly. Fills about 1 ½ wine bottles.
Elderberry Rob 2
This elderberry rob recipe is from Non Shaw's book, "Herbalism: An Illustrated Guide". Her method is "Take a quantity of elderberries and strip them off their stalks with a fork. Press out the juice using a wine press or jelly bag" I usually put them into a large piece of clean used cotton sheet and twist one end around until you can't squeeze out any more. This is a very tactile experience and you shouldn't use or wear anything you don't mind getting stained purple from the juice! "Add 1tsp allspice and 1/2 tsp ginger (optional) per 2 pints of liquid in a heavy bottomed pan" (preferably stainless steel or glass)"Reduce over a low heat until the juice is the consistency of molasses. Bottle and store in a cool place. Dose: Take 1tsp in a cup of hot water daily." I like this recipe because it doesn't use any sugar or honey and therefore is suitable for people with diabetes either type 1 or 2.
Elderberry Syrup
From Roger Phillips’ Wild Food Simmers the berries for 30 minutes and then add 1lb sugar and 10 cloves to each pint of juice. Boil for 10 minutes and allow to cool. Freeze in small quantites or pack in small, screw-top sterilized bottles.
Elderberry Cordial
Barbara Grigson, in her book "The Greenwitch: A Modern Woman's Herbal" gives a very simple recipe for spiced elderberry cordial which I like. "Wash and destalk the berries. Put 2lbs of them in a pan with a cupful of water and simmer until they have given up most of their juice. Crush and strain the berries through a seive. Put the juice back in a saucepan with five cloves, an inch or so of fresh root ginger, grated and 1/2 lb of sugar. Simmer for another hour and then store in tightly sealed jars."I strain my cordial before bottling. I either add it to a "cold tea" or my cough syrup or have it by itself if I remember!
Last year I made jars and jars of elderberry tincture and cordial which are still waiting to be used in the larder. For some reason we weren’t afflicted with the usual winter diseases! I know I have two boxes of elderberries waiting for me in my parents’ freezer so I shall be trying Kiva Rose’s new recipe for elderberry elixir at the workshop in November or before.
My other hopes for late harvest include blackberry syrup and nettle root tincture. All I need now is the time to forage amongst the hedgerows and dig deep into the earth, ever grateful for her miraculous bounty.
Wednesday, 3 September 2008
Honouring the Ants
In three days time I shall be journeying skywards to the hopefully sunnier climes of West Coast USA. It is nearly seven years since I last visited Oregon and thirteen years since I last set foot upon Californian soil. It will be good to be going back and smelling the eucalyptus trees again and hearing the thunder of the Pacific Ocean.
So much to do and so little time to do it! After the emotional turmoil of my parents’ frailty and trying to do something to celebrate their 55th wedding anniversary and my mother’s 80th birthday, all I could think about was processing the last of my herbs just in case something dreadful happened to them while I was away.
It struck me, as I was sitting on the patio last Saturday nursing my aching back and diligently transferring dried herbs into glass jars, that I don’t have free weekends. If I’m at home and not committed to public healing or doing some writing, I’m decanting tinctures or vinegars or sorting out dried herbs or making oils or syrups. I made a huge issue last year that it had taken me a whole day in October to process the dried calendula and all the other dried herbs, yet this year I must have dedicated at least three entire weekends to herbal products, not to mention the countless evenings after work cooking double infused oils or finishing off syrup evaporations before adding the honey or sugar.
I’m a terrible one for lists. I make notes of how many words I’ve written per story or story segment and how long it’s taken me to write them. Somehow I find it comforting to notice that a story which was only 5,000 words a few months ago has now expanded to 25,000 and if I add up other portions of each character’s tale, I might have enough for a book if I can just find the time to finish it!
I’ve started doing the same with herbs. Not content with keeping a herbal diary this year, I’ve now put together a spreadsheet to show what I’ve done with each herb. So far this year, out of 85 different plants I have dried 43, made 24 different double infused oils and one sun-infused oil, 33 different tinctures, 14 infused vinegars, 3 infused honeys, and 7 combination syrups. I haven’t made any flower essences for myself, but people who have attended workshops have made 13 different kinds of flower remedy. It’s no wonder there is no room in my larder for food, most of the shelves are completely taken over by herbal products!
If you are thinking of harvesting and storing your herbs, here are some hints and tips to help you make the most of them.
Harvesting
Pick your herbs after the dew has gone from them and before the midday sun has stressed them. Some herbs need to be picked before they flower e.g. lemon balm, mint, while others need to be picked when they flower e.g. boneset, motherwort. Others can be picked whenever you need them such as comfrey, marshmallow, plantain. (see tables)
Drying
Drying is possibly the easiest way to preserve herbs either to keep throughout the winter or until you decided what you would like to do with your harvest. Drying takes some thought and preparation to achieve the best results.
If you have a warm airy room away from the light, you can hang your herbs up in small bunches until they are dry and leave them as intact as you can for as long as you can. If you have a spare bedroom, both the bed and the floor space can be utilised for laying out your herbs on sheets of newspaper or an old cotton sheet. Cover them with another sheet or newspaper and leave until dry.
If you have a warm space to hang your herbs but you can’t keep out the light, put your herbs inside a paper bag and hang the bag up. If you are drying lavender or any other plant which is likely to shed seeds once dried e.g. heartsease, it is much easier to dry it inside a paper bag rather than have the seeds or heads fall off so you lose a significant part of your harvest.
If your herbs might contain moisture e.g. elderflowers, it is much better to dry them flat and separate on a sheet of paper, rather than altogether in a paper bag where mould may grow. It is heartbreaking to lose your entire harvest because it has grown mouldy.
Never be tempted to pick leaves which have even a touch of mildew on them. The mildew will grow during the drying process and your harvest will be worthless.
Some people buy a purpose built desiccators or make one. These can be used to dry fruit as well as herbs.
There will be times when the herbs you pick are wet. You will then need to decide whether you air dry them, by laying them flat somewhere or put them next to or in a heat source. Always try to use the lowest heat setting you can. You are aiming to dry the herbs, not cook them.
If you are collecting seeds, it is worth spending the extra time preparing them properly. Haws can be dried whole. Nettle seeds should be either hung up in bunches whilst still on the stems or laid flat on newspaper. Rosehips should be split in half and the seeds and pitch removed before drying. NB The insides of rosehips are irritating to the skin and used to be used as itching powder!
Both hips and haws need a heat source to dry properly unless you are living in hot country. If you have a hot water tank or a cupboard where hot water pipes run through or radiators which warm up regularly, you can place the seeds there. Leave for a month or more before you remove them to see if they are properly dry.
Roots need to be thoroughly washed (i.e. scrub with a scrubbing brush, wash, scrub and wash again) and cut into 1” sections before drying. If the root is thick, cut it in half. Roots are probably best dried in the bottom of the oven on the lowest heat setting or pilot light, ensuring air can circulate all round them. Leave the oven door slightly open during the drying to allow the moisture to escape. Dry as slowly as you can and turn everything over from time to time to ensure evenness.
Storing
To make sure your herbs keep their “strength”, they should be stored in a cool, dark place in bottles or jars with screwtop lids. Ideally brown or green glass would be the most preferable, but since most jars are clear glass, you can overcome the problems of light by placing the jar inside a paper bag once it is full. This ensures the herb stays colourful and potent for up to a year and sometimes more.
If you have picked and dried the whole aerial part of the plant, you may need to remove the leaves and/or flowers from the main stem, since this might not be as dry as the other parts. Try to keep everything as whole as you can. Once you have crushed a leaf, all its aromatic oils will be lost and so will its efficacy.
Herbs with a great deal of moisture/resin take a while to dry (at least one month). Calendula flower heads are best dried whole, but the only part which is kept are the petals. Each petal has to be plucked from the centre and then stored in a glass jar. If exposed to the light, they will lose their colour very quickly, but if encased in a paper bag, they will still be vibrantly orange twelve months later.
Nettle seeds are best removed from the stem by passing through a metal sieves. This ensures you only get the seed and not the leaves or any other dried inhabitants.
Make sure your jars are labelled and dated correctly. Despite your best intentions, you may not be able to remember which leaf or flower was which and if you don’t have the correct date on it, you will not know whether the herb is 6 months or 18 months old.
Freezing
Some herbs such as lemon balm, St Johns wort and tarragon, have a very short shelf life when dried. It can be easier to store them by freezing the plants fresh from the garden rather than drying them. This also applies to cleavers, shepherds purse, chickweed and possibly heartsease. All these herbs lose vitality once they are dried and should be tinctured or infused into oil when they are fresh.
Place the fresh herb into a plastic freezer bag, remove the air and freeze until needed. If you want the herbs specifically for tea, you can chop the herbs (either by hand or in a coffee grinder), make the tea with less water than usual but do not strain out the herbal matter and then freeze the liquid in ice cube trays. This is an especially good way of making fresh mint sauce in the middle of winter!
Rotating your stock
Once you start keeping your own herbal supplies, you will need to monitor everything on a regular basis. If you use what you have harvested, the dried herbs will disappear, but if you have collected some “just in case” and you haven’t given it away to friends, family or passing salesmen, it will sit there until you decide to do something about it.
Most herbs, properly dried, will keep for at least twelve months and can be replaced by next year’s harvest. If you don’t gather that herb the next year for some reason then sometimes you can keep using the old stock, but use double quantities. Unless you have real need for a dried herb which is more than twelve months old, throw it out and compost it or give it to your local re-enactment society so they can have real herbs in their apothecary’s booth. Once a herb loses its colour or develops mould, remove it.
The wonderful thing about collecting your own herbal stock is that the herbs you need will be there when you want them. They will be better quality than those you can buy and they will be better for you because they have grown in the same environment in which you live.
So much to do and so little time to do it! After the emotional turmoil of my parents’ frailty and trying to do something to celebrate their 55th wedding anniversary and my mother’s 80th birthday, all I could think about was processing the last of my herbs just in case something dreadful happened to them while I was away.
It struck me, as I was sitting on the patio last Saturday nursing my aching back and diligently transferring dried herbs into glass jars, that I don’t have free weekends. If I’m at home and not committed to public healing or doing some writing, I’m decanting tinctures or vinegars or sorting out dried herbs or making oils or syrups. I made a huge issue last year that it had taken me a whole day in October to process the dried calendula and all the other dried herbs, yet this year I must have dedicated at least three entire weekends to herbal products, not to mention the countless evenings after work cooking double infused oils or finishing off syrup evaporations before adding the honey or sugar.
I’m a terrible one for lists. I make notes of how many words I’ve written per story or story segment and how long it’s taken me to write them. Somehow I find it comforting to notice that a story which was only 5,000 words a few months ago has now expanded to 25,000 and if I add up other portions of each character’s tale, I might have enough for a book if I can just find the time to finish it!
I’ve started doing the same with herbs. Not content with keeping a herbal diary this year, I’ve now put together a spreadsheet to show what I’ve done with each herb. So far this year, out of 85 different plants I have dried 43, made 24 different double infused oils and one sun-infused oil, 33 different tinctures, 14 infused vinegars, 3 infused honeys, and 7 combination syrups. I haven’t made any flower essences for myself, but people who have attended workshops have made 13 different kinds of flower remedy. It’s no wonder there is no room in my larder for food, most of the shelves are completely taken over by herbal products!
If you are thinking of harvesting and storing your herbs, here are some hints and tips to help you make the most of them.
Harvesting
Pick your herbs after the dew has gone from them and before the midday sun has stressed them. Some herbs need to be picked before they flower e.g. lemon balm, mint, while others need to be picked when they flower e.g. boneset, motherwort. Others can be picked whenever you need them such as comfrey, marshmallow, plantain. (see tables)
Drying
Drying is possibly the easiest way to preserve herbs either to keep throughout the winter or until you decided what you would like to do with your harvest. Drying takes some thought and preparation to achieve the best results.
If you have a warm airy room away from the light, you can hang your herbs up in small bunches until they are dry and leave them as intact as you can for as long as you can. If you have a spare bedroom, both the bed and the floor space can be utilised for laying out your herbs on sheets of newspaper or an old cotton sheet. Cover them with another sheet or newspaper and leave until dry.
If you have a warm space to hang your herbs but you can’t keep out the light, put your herbs inside a paper bag and hang the bag up. If you are drying lavender or any other plant which is likely to shed seeds once dried e.g. heartsease, it is much easier to dry it inside a paper bag rather than have the seeds or heads fall off so you lose a significant part of your harvest.
If your herbs might contain moisture e.g. elderflowers, it is much better to dry them flat and separate on a sheet of paper, rather than altogether in a paper bag where mould may grow. It is heartbreaking to lose your entire harvest because it has grown mouldy.
Never be tempted to pick leaves which have even a touch of mildew on them. The mildew will grow during the drying process and your harvest will be worthless.
Some people buy a purpose built desiccators or make one. These can be used to dry fruit as well as herbs.
There will be times when the herbs you pick are wet. You will then need to decide whether you air dry them, by laying them flat somewhere or put them next to or in a heat source. Always try to use the lowest heat setting you can. You are aiming to dry the herbs, not cook them.
If you are collecting seeds, it is worth spending the extra time preparing them properly. Haws can be dried whole. Nettle seeds should be either hung up in bunches whilst still on the stems or laid flat on newspaper. Rosehips should be split in half and the seeds and pitch removed before drying. NB The insides of rosehips are irritating to the skin and used to be used as itching powder!
Both hips and haws need a heat source to dry properly unless you are living in hot country. If you have a hot water tank or a cupboard where hot water pipes run through or radiators which warm up regularly, you can place the seeds there. Leave for a month or more before you remove them to see if they are properly dry.
Roots need to be thoroughly washed (i.e. scrub with a scrubbing brush, wash, scrub and wash again) and cut into 1” sections before drying. If the root is thick, cut it in half. Roots are probably best dried in the bottom of the oven on the lowest heat setting or pilot light, ensuring air can circulate all round them. Leave the oven door slightly open during the drying to allow the moisture to escape. Dry as slowly as you can and turn everything over from time to time to ensure evenness.
Storing
To make sure your herbs keep their “strength”, they should be stored in a cool, dark place in bottles or jars with screwtop lids. Ideally brown or green glass would be the most preferable, but since most jars are clear glass, you can overcome the problems of light by placing the jar inside a paper bag once it is full. This ensures the herb stays colourful and potent for up to a year and sometimes more.
If you have picked and dried the whole aerial part of the plant, you may need to remove the leaves and/or flowers from the main stem, since this might not be as dry as the other parts. Try to keep everything as whole as you can. Once you have crushed a leaf, all its aromatic oils will be lost and so will its efficacy.
Herbs with a great deal of moisture/resin take a while to dry (at least one month). Calendula flower heads are best dried whole, but the only part which is kept are the petals. Each petal has to be plucked from the centre and then stored in a glass jar. If exposed to the light, they will lose their colour very quickly, but if encased in a paper bag, they will still be vibrantly orange twelve months later.
Nettle seeds are best removed from the stem by passing through a metal sieves. This ensures you only get the seed and not the leaves or any other dried inhabitants.
Make sure your jars are labelled and dated correctly. Despite your best intentions, you may not be able to remember which leaf or flower was which and if you don’t have the correct date on it, you will not know whether the herb is 6 months or 18 months old.
Freezing
Some herbs such as lemon balm, St Johns wort and tarragon, have a very short shelf life when dried. It can be easier to store them by freezing the plants fresh from the garden rather than drying them. This also applies to cleavers, shepherds purse, chickweed and possibly heartsease. All these herbs lose vitality once they are dried and should be tinctured or infused into oil when they are fresh.
Place the fresh herb into a plastic freezer bag, remove the air and freeze until needed. If you want the herbs specifically for tea, you can chop the herbs (either by hand or in a coffee grinder), make the tea with less water than usual but do not strain out the herbal matter and then freeze the liquid in ice cube trays. This is an especially good way of making fresh mint sauce in the middle of winter!
Rotating your stock
Once you start keeping your own herbal supplies, you will need to monitor everything on a regular basis. If you use what you have harvested, the dried herbs will disappear, but if you have collected some “just in case” and you haven’t given it away to friends, family or passing salesmen, it will sit there until you decide to do something about it.
Most herbs, properly dried, will keep for at least twelve months and can be replaced by next year’s harvest. If you don’t gather that herb the next year for some reason then sometimes you can keep using the old stock, but use double quantities. Unless you have real need for a dried herb which is more than twelve months old, throw it out and compost it or give it to your local re-enactment society so they can have real herbs in their apothecary’s booth. Once a herb loses its colour or develops mould, remove it.
The wonderful thing about collecting your own herbal stock is that the herbs you need will be there when you want them. They will be better quality than those you can buy and they will be better for you because they have grown in the same environment in which you live.
Wednesday, 6 August 2008
Of Bees and Honey
I eat my peas with honey
I've done it all my life
I know that this sounds funny
But it keeps them on the knife
Anon/Edward Lear
I have three large patches of majoram and golden marjoram in my garden. As with mint and lemon balm, I watch anxiously throughout spring and early summer considering what I should do with the aromatic leaves before they start to flower and become worthless. Worthless is really a very subjective word, but all the books say one should not gather once the plant has flowered since all energies have been put into the flowers and seeds thus reducing the efficacy of the leaves.
Of lemon balm I usually do gather vast quantities, either for tincture, drying or making liqueur. This year, although I have dried and tinctured, the number of plants in the garden have dwindled, so I’ve mostly made fresh tea along with cleavers and enjoyed it immensely.
Marjoram, to me, is basically a culinary herb. I adore it fresh in the summer and look forward to its flavour and scent during the long winter months. Once it flowers, I know that my time with it is short, but this year is proving a real exception.
I like bees. I could spend hours watching them if I gave myself permission to stop for more than the odd five minutes before the “I should be doing x…” message runs once more through my brain. I notice when the first bumble bee buzzes around the garden in early spring and watch as they crawl deep inside the snapdragon’s or Himalayan balsam’s mouth and manage to emerge unscathed.
This year, the marjoram blossom has attracted a whole army of bees – all different shapes, sizes and colours, from the black, brown and white to the stunning black and orange banded. They land on the delicate flowers like flying tanks, their weight causing the flower stalk to waive and bend until the bee is happily settled and sucking. It’s ok if the bee lands on a milk thistle blossom or an Echinacea head or a moon daisy flower – they are the equivalent of the aircraft carrier in the navy, providing a huge, stable, nutritious landing pad.
The most amazing sight I saw the other morning, was watching a bumble bee clinging to the fragile stem of a vervain plant with the very tips of its antennae delicately stuck inside the tiny flowers.
The world’s honey bees are currently in a perilous state. UK stocks have been decimated by a particularly virulent hive mite and a long harsh winter after a poor summer’s harvest which did not allow colonies to build sufficient food stocks.
My nearest beekeeper lives in the adjoining road from ours, so is only about 2/3 mile away. I was very concerned when I first noticed the bees converging on the marjoram to see only bumble bees, but a closer search did reveal some quick-flying worker honey bees hiding amongst the blossoms. They seemed to prefer the golden marjoram flowers to the ordinary oregano/marjoram and moved so quickly, it was almost impossible to photograph them. It was very reassuring to know they were also taking advantage of the new nectar source.
I started using honey in a serious way when I began my study of herbs. My one and only attempt at brewing was metheglyn, using Rhiannon Ryall’s recipe. It took a long time to ferment, but it tasted wonderful and I still have half a bottle left in the larder after 12 years!
I prefer using honey if I can when I make a syrup, especially elderberry syrup, but it was Kiva Rose who really excited me and all my students when she posted her recipe for elderberry elixir. http://bearmedicineherbals.com/?p=66. She gives other uses for the elixir here. http://bearmedicineherbals.com/?p=111 I tend to make it with fresh or frozen elderberries rather than dried and half fill a 2 lb glass honey jar with the berries before adding a pound of honey and filling it up to the brim with brandy. It tastes amazing!
Julie Brueton-Seal, in her new book, Hedgerow Medicine, says that honey has natural antibiotic and antiseptic properties so is “an excellent vehicle for medicines to fight infection.” Both Julia and Kiva Rose mention applying honey topically for wounds and burns. Kiva has an inspiring post on using honey infused with bergamot flowers, evening primrose flowers and buds and rose petals for wounds and large burns which might be prone to infection. http://bearmedicineherbals.com/?p=451
I’ve made some dog rose petal infused honey this year and am hoping to try making the burns mixture infusion soon.
Someone introduced me to cider vinegar and honey drinks (2tsps of each in a large mug full of boiling water) as a sore throat soother many years ago, but from Hedgerow Medicine, I learned this combination is actually known as an Oxymel. Apparently they were once popular as a cordial in both Middle Eastern and European traditions being prized for cold and ‘flu remedies. I make many different infused vinegars – now I shall have to start building up my collection of infused honeys as well!
The other method of making honeyed medicines is called an Electuary, which are made by stirring powdered dried herbs into honey to make a paste. Julie Brueton-Seal says they are good as children’s remedies and are often used to sooth the digestive tract. Paul Bergner often talks about making honey pastes or pellets as an alternative to tinctures when you don’t want to involve a someone with an alcohol extraction.
No posting about bees and herbs can be complete without a mention of beeswax for salve making. There is nothing more mouth-watering than the smell of freshly made wax tablets – fragrant and slightly soft.
Chris’current favourite funny story concerning me and my exploits happened a couple of weeks ago when we were in Lincoln. I walked into the second hand bookshop near the cathedral and said to the owner, “I know it’s a long shot, but do you by any chance have any beeswax?”
No, I hadn’t completely lost my mind, in the shop window was a display of honey jars, so I thought there might be the possibility of some beeswax. Luckily, the lady’s daughter very kindly made me some wax tablets that night and Chris collected them the following morning while I was doing a bereavement workshop with the local Carers Unit. I left Lincoln a very happy herbwife!
Bee Song
Buzzing around
Your soothing symphony
Makes me stop
To share your petal dance
I notice you nudging
The dragon’s maw
To gather nectar
Balancing your bulk
Like an errant breeze
On fragile flowers
Yellow pollen drapes
Around your legs
Brushing softness
On stamens
Ripe for release
Transluscent wings
Too delicate at rest
Power you skyward
Leaving my sleepy world
Silent
Sarah Head
I've done it all my life
I know that this sounds funny
But it keeps them on the knife
Anon/Edward Lear
I have three large patches of majoram and golden marjoram in my garden. As with mint and lemon balm, I watch anxiously throughout spring and early summer considering what I should do with the aromatic leaves before they start to flower and become worthless. Worthless is really a very subjective word, but all the books say one should not gather once the plant has flowered since all energies have been put into the flowers and seeds thus reducing the efficacy of the leaves.
Of lemon balm I usually do gather vast quantities, either for tincture, drying or making liqueur. This year, although I have dried and tinctured, the number of plants in the garden have dwindled, so I’ve mostly made fresh tea along with cleavers and enjoyed it immensely.
Marjoram, to me, is basically a culinary herb. I adore it fresh in the summer and look forward to its flavour and scent during the long winter months. Once it flowers, I know that my time with it is short, but this year is proving a real exception.
I like bees. I could spend hours watching them if I gave myself permission to stop for more than the odd five minutes before the “I should be doing x…” message runs once more through my brain. I notice when the first bumble bee buzzes around the garden in early spring and watch as they crawl deep inside the snapdragon’s or Himalayan balsam’s mouth and manage to emerge unscathed.
This year, the marjoram blossom has attracted a whole army of bees – all different shapes, sizes and colours, from the black, brown and white to the stunning black and orange banded. They land on the delicate flowers like flying tanks, their weight causing the flower stalk to waive and bend until the bee is happily settled and sucking. It’s ok if the bee lands on a milk thistle blossom or an Echinacea head or a moon daisy flower – they are the equivalent of the aircraft carrier in the navy, providing a huge, stable, nutritious landing pad.
The most amazing sight I saw the other morning, was watching a bumble bee clinging to the fragile stem of a vervain plant with the very tips of its antennae delicately stuck inside the tiny flowers.
The world’s honey bees are currently in a perilous state. UK stocks have been decimated by a particularly virulent hive mite and a long harsh winter after a poor summer’s harvest which did not allow colonies to build sufficient food stocks.
My nearest beekeeper lives in the adjoining road from ours, so is only about 2/3 mile away. I was very concerned when I first noticed the bees converging on the marjoram to see only bumble bees, but a closer search did reveal some quick-flying worker honey bees hiding amongst the blossoms. They seemed to prefer the golden marjoram flowers to the ordinary oregano/marjoram and moved so quickly, it was almost impossible to photograph them. It was very reassuring to know they were also taking advantage of the new nectar source.
I started using honey in a serious way when I began my study of herbs. My one and only attempt at brewing was metheglyn, using Rhiannon Ryall’s recipe. It took a long time to ferment, but it tasted wonderful and I still have half a bottle left in the larder after 12 years!
I prefer using honey if I can when I make a syrup, especially elderberry syrup, but it was Kiva Rose who really excited me and all my students when she posted her recipe for elderberry elixir. http://bearmedicineherbals.com/?p=66. She gives other uses for the elixir here. http://bearmedicineherbals.com/?p=111 I tend to make it with fresh or frozen elderberries rather than dried and half fill a 2 lb glass honey jar with the berries before adding a pound of honey and filling it up to the brim with brandy. It tastes amazing!
Julie Brueton-Seal, in her new book, Hedgerow Medicine, says that honey has natural antibiotic and antiseptic properties so is “an excellent vehicle for medicines to fight infection.” Both Julia and Kiva Rose mention applying honey topically for wounds and burns. Kiva has an inspiring post on using honey infused with bergamot flowers, evening primrose flowers and buds and rose petals for wounds and large burns which might be prone to infection. http://bearmedicineherbals.com/?p=451
I’ve made some dog rose petal infused honey this year and am hoping to try making the burns mixture infusion soon.
Someone introduced me to cider vinegar and honey drinks (2tsps of each in a large mug full of boiling water) as a sore throat soother many years ago, but from Hedgerow Medicine, I learned this combination is actually known as an Oxymel. Apparently they were once popular as a cordial in both Middle Eastern and European traditions being prized for cold and ‘flu remedies. I make many different infused vinegars – now I shall have to start building up my collection of infused honeys as well!
The other method of making honeyed medicines is called an Electuary, which are made by stirring powdered dried herbs into honey to make a paste. Julie Brueton-Seal says they are good as children’s remedies and are often used to sooth the digestive tract. Paul Bergner often talks about making honey pastes or pellets as an alternative to tinctures when you don’t want to involve a someone with an alcohol extraction.
No posting about bees and herbs can be complete without a mention of beeswax for salve making. There is nothing more mouth-watering than the smell of freshly made wax tablets – fragrant and slightly soft.
Chris’current favourite funny story concerning me and my exploits happened a couple of weeks ago when we were in Lincoln. I walked into the second hand bookshop near the cathedral and said to the owner, “I know it’s a long shot, but do you by any chance have any beeswax?”
No, I hadn’t completely lost my mind, in the shop window was a display of honey jars, so I thought there might be the possibility of some beeswax. Luckily, the lady’s daughter very kindly made me some wax tablets that night and Chris collected them the following morning while I was doing a bereavement workshop with the local Carers Unit. I left Lincoln a very happy herbwife!
Bee Song
Buzzing around
Your soothing symphony
Makes me stop
To share your petal dance
I notice you nudging
The dragon’s maw
To gather nectar
Balancing your bulk
Like an errant breeze
On fragile flowers
Yellow pollen drapes
Around your legs
Brushing softness
On stamens
Ripe for release
Transluscent wings
Too delicate at rest
Power you skyward
Leaving my sleepy world
Silent
Sarah Head
Wednesday, 30 July 2008
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:
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
Mars, B Dandelion Medicine 1999 Storey Books
Wood, M The Practice of Traditional Western
Monday, 14 July 2008
Harvesting, Flowers and Weather
This time last year I remember driving along a darkened Fosse Way on the Friday night before my July herb workshop during torrential rain wondering if I would make it through deep pools of water threatening to flood the entire road. I remember feelings of frustration and despair because my father was unable to mow down to the Sanctuary. The constant rain made it impossible to cut the fields for hay, so grass was sodden and almost impenetrable.
It was with a sense of déjà vu I travelled along the same road on the same evening of the year with rain again beating against the windscreen in torrents. This time it was Chris who was prevented by weather from doing any tidying up in the Sanctuary. I anticipated finding a total wilderness as I traipsed down the just discernable path with water coating my boots and overtrousers. Despite the damp and cold, my journey was accompanied by dancing butterflies seeking nectar from waterlogged red clover and bright yellow ladies bedstraw blooms beside the path.
As I opened the Sanctuary gate, I was met by a glorious surprise. A huge mass of lilac and white goats rue flowers were waiting for me by the summerhouse veranda, towering over the stately white plumes of the comfrey. Bumblebees were diving inside the flowers at their usual languid pace as if the previous downpour had never happened.
Inside the summerhouse it was still comfortably warm. I was able to gather up all the dried herbs into paper bags – elderflower, red clover, apothecary’s rose petals and lemon balm. I didn’t have time to take the leaves off the lemon balm just then. Gillian kindly completed the task for me during the workshop the following day.
Although the light was poor, I tried to take photos of all the beautiful flowers – motherwort’s pink, scullcap’s blue, calendula’s orange, valerian and heliotrope’s pink-tinged white, the huge canopy of yellow from dyer’s greenweed, even the deep crimson of the apothecary’s rose. Unfortunately, the flash washed out much of the colours, making the photos unusable.
It was still a wonderful experience to be down in the heart of the Sanctuary as the rain fell gently. I took shelter under the trees, searching around the edge of the pond for the small spotted orchid. I only found two blooms but know there must be more hiding. There was little sign of the meadowsweet either. I could see the leaves and the deep red stems, but there was no sign of flowers. Maybe they are late blooming because of the shade from the overhanging branches or maybe something has eaten the flower stalks!
Saturday morning dawned bright and sunny – such a contrast from the previous day! The workshop was great fun. I even managed to pick a basketful of young nettles before they were trampled on. I was hoping to repeat the harvest on Sunday morning since the new steps were totally covered by young nettles, but I was too tired after harvesting everything else. It’s still good to know I have some young nettles drying for the winter.
On Sunday morning, I knew I had about two and a half hours to harvest everything I needed. I cut the flowering stems of the broadleaved thyme growing in the bungalow garden before I left to go down to the Sanctuary. Rock rose grows intertwined with the thyme, so I picked the yellow flowers as well, leaving them to dry on newspaper after the sun had dried the initial dampness.
I began my harvest by taking photographs to show what the plants looked like in all their glory. This time it was the brightness of full sunlight which made exposure difficult.
Skullcap was the first abundant plant I came across. I divided the harvest in half, leaving some to dry and the rest to take home and tincture. I wanted to make lots of motherwort vinegar this year since I’ve used up the one bottle I made last year, so I gathered great armfuls of the tall stems, taking care not to scratch my bare arms on the stiff flower prickles.
It was wonderful to see the white horehound in flower and know I would have plenty to make a new cough syrup this autumn. The hyssop wasn’t quite in flower, so I weeded between the plants to give them some access to sunlight.
The heartsease was beautiful, but I left them to bring joy to the garden. Betony flowers were few and had to be searched for amidst the jungle of solomon’s seal, joe pye weed and lemon balm. Luckily I have bottles of tincture left from the Cornish betony I gathered last year and we’ll be returning there next year so I can gather again.
The first few calendula flowers were out, but most were very rain damaged. The mint was tall and impressive. The reaction to mint tea made with this chocolate mint has been so favourable, I gathered a huge armful to dry. Applemint is really nice dried as well as fresh, so I’m hoping the chocolate mint will be the same.
Other stately plants were the agrimony with their long, yellow, flower stalks, while the blue star flowers of the borage made me feel happy just to look at it. The deep pink cups of the Himalayan balsam were gorgeous, but any plants growing within the herb borders were ruthlessly culled.
I keep meaning to work more closely with agrimony. Maybe this is the year I will do so. I love the fresh taste and smell of both borage tincture and vinegar. Many people don’t use this plant any more because of the potential harm it might cause to the liver, but I still value it.
I also uncovered the ladies mantle, their long strings of yellow flowers trailing across the ground. I made some fresh tincture last year and haven’t used it, so decided not to gather at the moment. I did take three long stalks of fennel to make a syrup for heartburn along with meadowsweet.
The real stars of the herb garden were the huge red blooms of the bergamot blazing amongst the green immature tansy and lemon balm. Their colour is much more vibrant than last year, which was their first flowering, so I’m hopeful they will produce many more blooms throughout the summer. I tinctured the aerial parts last year, so this year I have left them to dry for teas.
The heat was intense while I was picking and weeding, not helped by the constant swarms of flies which objected to being disturbed from their nectar source! It was wonderful to see two copper butterflies hanging together from a New England Aster leaf in the top garden. I also managed to gather enough St John’s wort flowers to fill up the 1lb honey jar in my parent’s kitchen. They picked half a jar full two weeks ago before the rain set in and were impressed how quickly the oil went dark.
Before I left, we picked raspberries and blackcurrants from the garden and I gathered more plantain – both ribwort and greater – to make some more oil, along with a few stalks of yarrow.
On my way home I stopped to wildcraft some beautiful, searing white yarrow from the grass verge and a large bunch of meadowsweet. Two herbs from two different counties – Gloucestershire and Warwickshire, both of which provide my roots back into pre-history.
It is really difficult to know whether to wildcraft from road sides or not. I know the dangers of pollution, but neither road was constantly busy, both plants were newly grown and I didn’t have anywhere else to harvest at that moment and needed them both.
Back at home, I picked some more St John’s wort flowers to make up the beginnings of a new jar of oil (this will be the third) and some more raspberries- red and yellow, alpine strawberries and a few redcurrants.
I managed to make both the plantain double infused oil and the meadowsweet and fennel syrup as well as put up two jars of motherwort vinegar during the evening, but I did spend two hours watching the TV on the sofa as well. The trouble with harvesting is you forget how exhausting it can be! The rest of the harvest will have to wait until tomorrow night when I have no other commitments and can give them my undivided attention.
It was with a sense of déjà vu I travelled along the same road on the same evening of the year with rain again beating against the windscreen in torrents. This time it was Chris who was prevented by weather from doing any tidying up in the Sanctuary. I anticipated finding a total wilderness as I traipsed down the just discernable path with water coating my boots and overtrousers. Despite the damp and cold, my journey was accompanied by dancing butterflies seeking nectar from waterlogged red clover and bright yellow ladies bedstraw blooms beside the path.
As I opened the Sanctuary gate, I was met by a glorious surprise. A huge mass of lilac and white goats rue flowers were waiting for me by the summerhouse veranda, towering over the stately white plumes of the comfrey. Bumblebees were diving inside the flowers at their usual languid pace as if the previous downpour had never happened.
Inside the summerhouse it was still comfortably warm. I was able to gather up all the dried herbs into paper bags – elderflower, red clover, apothecary’s rose petals and lemon balm. I didn’t have time to take the leaves off the lemon balm just then. Gillian kindly completed the task for me during the workshop the following day.
Although the light was poor, I tried to take photos of all the beautiful flowers – motherwort’s pink, scullcap’s blue, calendula’s orange, valerian and heliotrope’s pink-tinged white, the huge canopy of yellow from dyer’s greenweed, even the deep crimson of the apothecary’s rose. Unfortunately, the flash washed out much of the colours, making the photos unusable.
It was still a wonderful experience to be down in the heart of the Sanctuary as the rain fell gently. I took shelter under the trees, searching around the edge of the pond for the small spotted orchid. I only found two blooms but know there must be more hiding. There was little sign of the meadowsweet either. I could see the leaves and the deep red stems, but there was no sign of flowers. Maybe they are late blooming because of the shade from the overhanging branches or maybe something has eaten the flower stalks!
Saturday morning dawned bright and sunny – such a contrast from the previous day! The workshop was great fun. I even managed to pick a basketful of young nettles before they were trampled on. I was hoping to repeat the harvest on Sunday morning since the new steps were totally covered by young nettles, but I was too tired after harvesting everything else. It’s still good to know I have some young nettles drying for the winter.
On Sunday morning, I knew I had about two and a half hours to harvest everything I needed. I cut the flowering stems of the broadleaved thyme growing in the bungalow garden before I left to go down to the Sanctuary. Rock rose grows intertwined with the thyme, so I picked the yellow flowers as well, leaving them to dry on newspaper after the sun had dried the initial dampness.
I began my harvest by taking photographs to show what the plants looked like in all their glory. This time it was the brightness of full sunlight which made exposure difficult.
Skullcap was the first abundant plant I came across. I divided the harvest in half, leaving some to dry and the rest to take home and tincture. I wanted to make lots of motherwort vinegar this year since I’ve used up the one bottle I made last year, so I gathered great armfuls of the tall stems, taking care not to scratch my bare arms on the stiff flower prickles.
It was wonderful to see the white horehound in flower and know I would have plenty to make a new cough syrup this autumn. The hyssop wasn’t quite in flower, so I weeded between the plants to give them some access to sunlight.
The heartsease was beautiful, but I left them to bring joy to the garden. Betony flowers were few and had to be searched for amidst the jungle of solomon’s seal, joe pye weed and lemon balm. Luckily I have bottles of tincture left from the Cornish betony I gathered last year and we’ll be returning there next year so I can gather again.
The first few calendula flowers were out, but most were very rain damaged. The mint was tall and impressive. The reaction to mint tea made with this chocolate mint has been so favourable, I gathered a huge armful to dry. Applemint is really nice dried as well as fresh, so I’m hoping the chocolate mint will be the same.
Other stately plants were the agrimony with their long, yellow, flower stalks, while the blue star flowers of the borage made me feel happy just to look at it. The deep pink cups of the Himalayan balsam were gorgeous, but any plants growing within the herb borders were ruthlessly culled.
I keep meaning to work more closely with agrimony. Maybe this is the year I will do so. I love the fresh taste and smell of both borage tincture and vinegar. Many people don’t use this plant any more because of the potential harm it might cause to the liver, but I still value it.
I also uncovered the ladies mantle, their long strings of yellow flowers trailing across the ground. I made some fresh tincture last year and haven’t used it, so decided not to gather at the moment. I did take three long stalks of fennel to make a syrup for heartburn along with meadowsweet.
The real stars of the herb garden were the huge red blooms of the bergamot blazing amongst the green immature tansy and lemon balm. Their colour is much more vibrant than last year, which was their first flowering, so I’m hopeful they will produce many more blooms throughout the summer. I tinctured the aerial parts last year, so this year I have left them to dry for teas.
The heat was intense while I was picking and weeding, not helped by the constant swarms of flies which objected to being disturbed from their nectar source! It was wonderful to see two copper butterflies hanging together from a New England Aster leaf in the top garden. I also managed to gather enough St John’s wort flowers to fill up the 1lb honey jar in my parent’s kitchen. They picked half a jar full two weeks ago before the rain set in and were impressed how quickly the oil went dark.
Before I left, we picked raspberries and blackcurrants from the garden and I gathered more plantain – both ribwort and greater – to make some more oil, along with a few stalks of yarrow.
On my way home I stopped to wildcraft some beautiful, searing white yarrow from the grass verge and a large bunch of meadowsweet. Two herbs from two different counties – Gloucestershire and Warwickshire, both of which provide my roots back into pre-history.
It is really difficult to know whether to wildcraft from road sides or not. I know the dangers of pollution, but neither road was constantly busy, both plants were newly grown and I didn’t have anywhere else to harvest at that moment and needed them both.
Back at home, I picked some more St John’s wort flowers to make up the beginnings of a new jar of oil (this will be the third) and some more raspberries- red and yellow, alpine strawberries and a few redcurrants.
I managed to make both the plantain double infused oil and the meadowsweet and fennel syrup as well as put up two jars of motherwort vinegar during the evening, but I did spend two hours watching the TV on the sofa as well. The trouble with harvesting is you forget how exhausting it can be! The rest of the harvest will have to wait until tomorrow night when I have no other commitments and can give them my undivided attention.
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