(Desperately) Seeking Spring, and a Couple of Violet Recipes

Posted on March 27, 2015 by Iris Weaver

This is the snow bank behind my house.

This picture shows what the field by my house looked like 4 days after the official start of spring. As Henry Van Dyke said, “The first day of spring is one thing, and the first spring day is another. The difference between them is sometimes as great as a month.” I am hoping that by a month from now, I will be seeing only grass, and no snow!

Although this wintry, snowy view greets me at my windows and my doors, I am keeping a sharp eye out for anything that says “Spring!”

The birds are not deterred by the snow and are calling out their mating songs. Even the redwing blackbird is back in town, I can hear his cry. Cardinals are thinking reproduction, robins are rife, and the sparrows and chickadees are just plain excited.

The trees and shrubs also know it is spring. Examining twigs and branches closely, or observing the tree tops, will show the swelling of buds. You can see a halo of gold around the weeping willows and a blush of pink at the tops of the maples.

Buds have been enlarging for a couple of weeks now. Walking in Cambridge recently I was captivated with the bushes that had various sizes and shapes of buds. They obviously are not at all impressed by the snow! There was a largish witch hazel with about one-quarter of its branches lined in vibrant yellow blooms, which just made my heart sing.

What I am waiting for is dandylions and chickweed and speedwell and the tiny cresses (in the mustard family) that pop up early in the spring, or even late winter in other, milder, years. I am eager to see the particular blue of the speedwell, and to start nibbling on dandylion leaves and the tiny cresses. My neighborhood greenhouse is providing a few chickweed plants, but I want to see them in my garden, intermingling with the speedwell.

Soon enough, then, the violets will start to put out their leaves and their delicate flowers, which I will happily pick to make syrups and cordials. In honor of spring, below are two recipes that make use of the common wild violet that pops up all over New England lawns and gardens (sometimes to the chagrin of gardeners and lawn-lovers)

Happy Spring! (whenever it arrives…) Violet with blooms and leaves

Sweet Aunt Vi

1 cup packed violet blossoms
¼ cup water
Juice of 1 organic lemon
2 ½ cups organic sugar or raw honey

Make a thick paste of the violet blossoms, lemon juice, and water in your blender or food processor, or with a mortar and pestle. Blend in your sweetener very, very well. Store very cold, the freezer is fine and will keep it indefinitely.

Use ¼ teaspoon at a time, every hour or so, as needed, to help ease coughs, constipation, headaches, and grief.

I usually make half this recipe and find it sufficient for myself as a single person.

This recipe is from Wise Woman Herbal: Healing Wise by Susun Weed, Ash Tree Publishing, 1989.

Split Pea Soup with Violet Leaves

½ cup dried split peas
4 cups water plus ½ cup water
1 cup fresh violet leaves
Olive oil or lard
1 small onion, diced
2 cloves garlic, finely chopped
Sea salt and black pepper to taste
Sour cream (optional)

Soak peas overnight, drain, then add water and bring to a boil. Turn down heat and simmer until mushy soft. In separate pot, cook violet leaves in ½ cup water until they are very soft. Put in blender or food processor and blend into a slurry. Add to pot of cooked peas.

In a frying pan, put 2 to 4 tablespoons of good olive oil or lard, add onions and garlic and cook until nicely softened. Add to pea and violet leaf mix. Reheat until nice and hot.

Serve with a dollop of sour cream if you like!

Early Winter Foraging for Edibles and Decoratives (Rosehips, Evening Primrose, Burdock, and More)

Posted on November 23, 2014 by Iris Weaver

Multiflora rose rosehips.

Even though it’s late fall or the beginning of winter, there are still wonderful plant gifts to find outdoors. It just takes a little looking, and is also somewhat dependent on the weather.

Rosehips are at their best right now. Some will have been nipped by the frost and be mushy, but oh so sweet, while others will still be firm, all on the same bush or the in the same cluster. You can eat them straight off the bush, as I was doing the other day, or cut off the cluster and dry them for use for teas or holiday decorations. The hips of commonly found rugosa or beach roses and multiflora roses are beautiful included in wreaths or arrangements, or even just in a bouquet on their own. They are as pretty dried as they are fresh.

Another prickly plant with red berries is barberry. Japanese barberry is used extensively in landscaping, and at this time of year its red berries are hanging in rows beneath the thin twigs. If you protect your hands while picking the berry-bedecked twigs, they make a nice addition to holiday decorations. The berries, while not terribly exciting, can be used to make a jam or snacked on. I recently heard that the berries were included in Seventeenth century stuffings, but I don’t think it was the berries of the Japanese species, which are not at all juicy, but common barberry with tastier fruit.

Evening primrose leaf rosette and root–both first-year plants.

Evening primroses are also at just the right stage to eat, the roots being full of nutrients and the rosette of leaves having a delicious peppery taste. Now is the time to dig the roots before the ground gets frozen. You can use the roots in soups, stews, stir-fries, or root-veggie mashes, or slice and dry them for use later in the winter season. They are mucilaginous and healing for the gut and mucous membranes.

Multiflora rose rosehips and evening primrose seed stalks.

The seeds of evening primrose are numerous in their shapely seed pods, and the birds, especially gold finches, love to eat them, usually in the fall and spring. The seeds are really tiny, maybe the size of this period . and they are the source of evening primrose oil. Even though the seeds are very numerous, with their tiny size you can see why the oil is so expensive. Just think how many seeds it takes to make one ounce of oil! You can get the goodness of that oil into your diet without cost, however, by harvesting the seeds and adding them to whatever dishes you like. One friend suggests using them on baked goods like poppy seeds! It is really simple to harvest the seeds—just cut the seed stalks and stick them upside down in a paper bag and shake. (You can use the seed stalks for decorations after that.) If you want more of the seeds you can split the seed heads open and finger out the seeds, which is time consuming, but something to do while watching a movie. The seeds will keep for months in a jar.

Burdock burrs are distinctive and easy to find in the stripped landscape. If you are lucky, there will still be a few leaves you can harvest for teas or soups, and if the ground isn’t frozen you can grab a few roots. Great for food or medicine at this time of year!

Burdock’s burry seed stalks make a nice addition to arrangements, and the seeds can be harvested for medicinal uses. They can also be eaten, though they are rather bitter (which is good for you). Be careful when taking the seeds out of the burrs, however, as the hairs from the burrs can get onto your tongue and cause discomfort. You will want to wear some sort of gloves, if possible, as this will protect your fingers from the prickly burrs.

seedheads-goldenrod, mugwort, barberry berries

Feathery seed heads of goldenrod, sedate seed heads of mugwort, and 2 red barberry berries.

If you like a natural, Nature-inspired decorating theme, for the holidays or the winter, then now is the time to go out and collect dry seed heads from the garden or the fields. Goldenrod has lovely rather feathery seed heads, mugwort has more refined seed stalks, evening primrose has stalks with upright, bell-shaped seed pods, and Queen Anne’s lace has seed heads resembling birds’ nests. Any or all of these can be sprayed with silver of gold paint or rolled in glitter if you want to add a bit of sparkle to you natural look. Mixing them with red rosehips or barberries will give added punch to your arrangement, or you can mix them with seasonal greens in arrangements or wreaths.

So just when you thought the foraging season was over, you now have a reason to go out and harvest a few last plants! Let me know what you do with your late fall/early winter gleanings in the comments section.

A Few Plants of Autumn, Some to be Foraged

Posted on October 1, 2014 by Iris Weaver

Pokeweed with green , unripe berries in the fall.

Fall is one of my favorite times of the year. I love the flowers and plants of autumn, the last hurrah before everything settles in for the winter. I like to look around and see what is still blooming and what is going to seed, and find what I will collect for winter food and medicine and even decoration.

This is the time when there are asters galore, from tiny white stars barely the size of your pinky nail to large purple flowers fairly shouting for attention.

Smartweed in bloom.

The smartweeds have their long, curving strands of tiny florets that look like the tiniest of pink and white beads clustered together.

Pokeweed is still much in evidence, with some plants still flowering and producing green berries, and other plants heavy with clusters of the beautiful purple berries, which look luscious but are, unfortunately, not edible.

In the gardens behind my building marigolds are making abundant mounds of yellows and oranges, and the zinnias in a couple of the beds are still riotous in their blossom-covered stands. Farther away, a wild-flower area has yellow calendula and deep blue bachelor’s buttons, purple morning glory and punchy yellow rudbeckias and gloriosa daisies.

In my own garden I have the last of the nasturtiums going for broke till the frost comes, and the Jerusalem artichokes are taller than I am, with vibrant, small-sunflower-like flowers. The bees are loving the flowers.

Queen Anne’s lace has a few small blooms left, but mostly has many seed-heads that look rather like birds’ nests.

Jewelweed seedpods ready to burst.

The jewelweed has finished blooming, but is making seeds that are fun to catch in my hand, and taste deliciously nutty, though they are quite tiny!

The apple tree that produced so copiously last year is dropping sad apples, mostly flawed and quickly infested with ants, such a far cry from the abundance of a year ago. However, I am managing to scavenge a few apples to dehydrate for winter cooking and my oatmeal.

Burdock burrs are ripening, and the seeds are ready to harvest, especially the one burdock in my garden that I don’t want to have spread.

In another month I will start digging up Jerusalem artichoke tubers and burdock roots, and unearth dandelion roots. All of these roots can be eaten, but I will only eat the J artie tubers, and will dry the burdock and dandy roots for teas to nourish my liver and help my digestion.

I have been drying a few zinnias for use in herbal wreaths, and will dry a few marigolds as well. The marigolds are also lovely in wreaths and make a good tea. Zinnia and marigold flowers, separately or together, make a lovely yellow dye for fabric and yarn.

So, I am off to wander among the plants of autumn, and harvest a few flowers and ponder the roots I will soon be digging. What joys of autumn will you be taking home with you? Comment and let me know.

Looking for Prunella, Talking with a Crabby Tree

Posted on May 18, 2014 by Iris Weaver

Self heal

I am always up for the challenge of finding an herb or plant I can use.

Recently I was given the task of tracking down an herb that is quite well-known in herbal circles but not one of the “popular” ones that most places stock. I was looking for heal-all or self-heal (Prunella vulgaris), an herb that came over from Europe and has the reputation of healing a whole lotta things, hence the name. (Here is what Mrs. Grieve has to say about it in A Modern Herbal.)

It’s a plant I remember seeing in lawns when I was a child and wondering what it was. I don’t think I properly identified it until a few years ago, or maybe even just last year when I found it in the lawn in front of my building.

I didn’t think it could possibly have started coming up yet, so I didn’t look for it. But I was told it was emerging in Vermont and on Cape Cod, so I went out to look in the lawn where it grew last year. It took close examination of the lawn but I found the very young leaves, in tiny patches here and there.

The leaves were very small and too small to harvest. I introduced myself to the plant and asked if she was willing to work with me, to which she replied “yes”. She told me to eat just a few leaves, that I would receive the energy of the plant for my healing that way.

The leaves were pleasantly bitter, not what I expected for some reason. I thought the plant would just taste rather green and “herby”. But no, there is clearly strong medicine in the leaves of this plant. There is a reason she’s called “heal-all”!

Fuschia crabapple blossoms

There are two crabapple trees in front of the building I live in. One has beautiful fuschia-pink blossoms and produces tiny apples. the other has white flowers and produces nice-sized, delicious apples that are worth collecting for food in the fall. They are both sweet-scented, though the white flowered tree has a slightly more spice tang.

I had a strong desire to make some kind of medicine from the flowers, so I asked both trees if I could use some of their flowers. The fuschia-pink tree was very happy to share her blossoms, but the white-flowered tree said “no”. The answers I get from the plants are so interesting, and the reasoning is not always comprehensible to a human like me.

I harvested the fuschia blooms this morning, reveling in their scent, letting the tree direct me to which flowers to pick and how many. I had enough to make 1 1/2 cups of blossom-only tincture, and 1/2 cup of blossom-and-leaf tincture.

The blossom-only tincture has become a beautiful purple, and I look forward to using it later this summer.

If you are interested in getting some crabapple-blossom tincture, an herbal P”medicine” for healing the emotional and spiritual heart, please let me know. It is well worth having and working with!

(Photo credit for the picture of Self heal: Lachlan Cranswick http://lachlan.bluehaze.com.au/usa2001/ny_wildflowers_2001.html)

Welcoming the Spring Sun and Awakening Plants

Posted on April 23, 2014 by Iris Weaver

In New England and elsewhere it was a verrrry long, cold, and dark winter. Even die-hard winter lovers were finally begging for spring to arrive.

And so it has, albeit slowly, perhaps still feeling the chill of the retreating winter. I did not see my first dandelion flower until this week! This is highly unusual as here on the New England coast, even when we have heavy snow winters, there are usually patches of clear ground where you can sometimes find dandelions blooming in December, and certainly they are coming along in a few places in late March and early April.

A few days ago I led my first Urban Foraging Ramble of the season, and we trekked through downtown Beverly (Massachusetts) finding the plants that in the city are beginning to sprout or put out fresh new leaves and buds or even to bloom.

Blooming Queen Anne’s lace. It flowers the second year of its life cycle.

Excitingly, we found a Queen Anne’s lace second-year plant already in full feathery leaf, tucked into a little alcove where a building wall met the sidewalk. The warmth was just enough to encourage an early royal appearance! Unfortunately I didn’t think to photograph our friend, so you’ll just have to content yourself with this stock picture of Her Majesty.

Welcoming Sunlight

The sun was gloriously warm, helping dispel the coldish wind. Both while waiting for my students and when I got home I sat and basked in the sun. I have never missed the sun like I did this winter! I had never truly understood how vital sunlight and the Sun itself are to my happiness and mental well-being.

After sitting for an hour or more in the afternoon sun I wanted to go inside and nap, but when I got up to go inside I felt a visceral need to spend more time in the sun, a physical pull to stay in the sun. It was quite extraordinary, I’ve never experienced anything like that before.

Human beings have always needed sunshine and a connection with the great being in the sky, the Sun. It is only in the last one or two hundred years that many societies have lost their connection with the Sun and with the outdoors, coming to fear nature and sunlight.

Doreen Virtue, in her book Angel Medicine, talks about our need for sunshine, the light itself, and the rainbow energy it carries. She mentions that we need to spend time in the sun, though if we are fair-skinned it is better to do so in early morning and late afternoon. It is also important to receive the light of sunrises and sunsets, as they help to calibrate our chakras. And if possible, it is best to take in sunny energy without the mediation of windows, glasses, or sunglasses.

I turned to this book this winter while looking for ways to work through my severe depression. Repeatedly I would open it randomly for a message and find myself reading about sunlight and how it helps with depression and health. ‘Nuff said! Except that the sun wasn’t cooperating this winter. I was not only depressed but frustrated. How happy I have been to see the sun shining forth in the last couple of weeks!

Greeting Emerging Wild Plant Friends

With the return of “good” weather, i.e., weather that you can go out in without bundling up in three layers, and the ground thawing out, it is time to go and greet plant friends and allies that are emerging and waking.

In late-ish April as I go walking and foraging I am finding dandelions with luscious leaves and buds starting to rise, a few with blooming flowers. Ground ivy is already scrambling along, ready to take over whatever garden and lawn areas it can conquer. Garlic mustard is putting out clusters of second-year leaves and since it is such an invasive plant, I am happily pulling them up and tossing them in my soup pot. Violets are beginning to emerge. Celandine is happily flaunting its medium-green, furry-edged leaves. Grasses are poking up higher than you’d expect at this time of year.

In all, it is a glorious time to be outside in the sun, finding the plants that have answered the call of spring and shown themselves!

Go outside and find the plants that are growing nearest to your house or office. What are they? Share them with me (pictures are fab) in the comments section of the blog. Happy, happy Spring!!!

The Plants Call to Me, Even in Winter

Posted on February 20, 2014 by Iris Weaver

My friend Spruce Tree

The plants have been talking to me when I go out for my daily walks.

It’s the middle of winter and you’d think nothing would be awake or paying much attention, but that simply isn’t so.

Driven by a recurrence of depression and needing to add a new approach to my coping skills, I have made a commitment to get outside everyday, even though we are in the midst of an extremely snowy winter.

You might think that I, an herbalist, would welcome any and every chance to get outdoors, but that hasn’t been the case. In the past years I have taken more and more to snuggling (um, well, hiding) in bed and reading a book or watching television as my primary modus operandi for dealing with down and uncomfortable times.

This stopped being an acceptable way of coping when I got hit with deep depression a few weeks ago. It was clear I had to do something different. Walking turns out to have been one of the answers.

First I had to walk to physical therapy half a mile away after hurting my hip. Then I set up a plan with a coach for whipping the depression’s ass harder than it was whipping mine.

And then—the plants spoke to me.

No, not actual words from some anthropomorphized rose bush. But their energy and the quiet messages that can be felt in paying attention to that came through clearly.

Snow-covered mulitflora rose vines

First a multiflora rose snagged my sleeve as I was walking back from the compost heap (I put my compost there all winter long). I unsnagged myself and walked on past the black locust trees and past where the ground ivy and cleavers grow in great profusion in summer. I suddenly felt so much love and affection surrounding me, coming from the plants. The message I received was how much they love me, and need me to be here in this world for them, all of the plants.

Another walk a few days later and the same message. And then a walk down a long patch of turf where the grass never gets that tall and there is much moss and lichen mixed in (this was before the snow began). It is a long, tongue-shaped area, bounded on either side by trees. Near the tip of the “tongue” is a big old spruce tree who contributed needle-filled twigs a couple years ago to make spruce syrup with my apprentice.

Spruce suggested I drink a tea made of its needles, and perhaps partake of that spruce syrup as well. I took some fallen twiglets home for tea.

The trees also suggested that I come visit every day for a week, and I have, those that I can reach wither through the snow, or near the plowed road.

The glory of a walk, even in winter, is the beauty of the plants, whether evergreen trees, bare trees, seed stalks, or finding the mosses and “weeds” and plant friends that stay green throughout the coldest months.

Seeing the stands of seedstalks I remember what grows there in summer. Looking over toward the pond, I think of the skunk cabbage under the layer of icy snow. Approaching the filmy-barked white birch I admire the ethereal creams and peachy-pinks of its trunk.

The plants call to me, even in winter, and I am learning to listen and answer.

Walking in a Winter Wonderland…

Posted on February 18, 2014 by Iris Weaver

It’s been snowing here in the Northeast. That’s a bit of an understatement right now, as we have huge piles of snow by the roads, are busily shoveling snow off the paths, and are buckling down for more to come. Yikes!

But I have been enjoying the snow in ways I haven’t in years, if ever. Perhaps because, without a car, I don’t have to drive in it. And I live where they shovel and plow the sidewalks for me. I am very lucky!

The small river is frozen with a half moon of hare tracks in the snow.

I have just recently started going out for a walk every day. A dive into severe depression has meant that I have to add new coping skills to the ones I already have in place, and walking is one of the easiest things I can do that helps.

So on many days you will find me crunching through shin-high snow, leaving a small trench of trodden snow in my wake. It is exhilarating and fine aerobic exercise.

My snowy trail

I have been discovering wonderful things, and paying attention to the plants and the outdoors in whole new ways.

We have both hares and bunnies in our neck of the woods, and the tracks they leave differ from each other. Who knew?! They trail along through the top layer of snow, swerving here and there or making a sharp zig-zag turn, and mostly go from one area of covering trees and vines to another.

What I have really been seeing for the first time is the absolute beauty of the trees, vines, dried seedheads, and other plants in the snow and winter landscape. With all the snow, of course it looks like the quintessential winter postcard or Christmas card. But beyond that is the sublime glory of each plant, twig, or bare stalk outlined against the snow, or simply being itself within the fullness of the land.

I have been paying attention to the bare trees, which allow me to see details and learn about the trees which are hidden or invisible in a way when the leaves are out and all the other plants are flaunting their own foliage and colors.

My friend, the black walnut tree.

For instance, on one walk I saw the pods, with tiny seeds still inside, of the black locust tree. I had just been reading about these in a wild foods forum I’m in, and lo-and-behold, suddenly there they were on the snow, and later in another walk, clinging to the bare branches of a tree! Then I looked at the tree itself and noticed the very deeply textured bark, so different from the other trees nearby. Except that several trees had that same texture of bark, and when I checked their branches, they had the little pods still attached. So I noticed a community of trees I have completely missed up until now.

Broken branch of black locust tree.

My walks are not silent. The birds are very vocal, and it is amusing to occasionally hear what sounds like a spring song in the midst of this wintery snow. No longer a harbinger of spring in our neck of the woods, there are flocks of robins in the trees and hopping on the snow, their bright breasts flashing in the sun. I can hear the cardinals before I see them. The sparrows and chickadees are everywhere and other birds come winging by or hop around on bare branches or in the yew bushes.

This winter with its seemingly endless snowfalls has been an unexpected gift. I am so grateful for its beauty and the presence of creatures and trees and the Spirit of our Mother Earth.

Using My Plant Medicines for Depression and Anxiety

Posted on December 22, 2013 by Iris Weaver

detail of flower of Lysichiton americanus

Detail of flower of Western skunk cabbage (Lysichiton americanus)

Three years ago I went to visit one of my herbalist friends, Sean Donahue, who has an intuitive connection with the plants that truly awes me. We were talking about tinctures, trying various ones, and he gave me a few drops of Western skunk cabbage to try. All well and good, until a little while later when I found myself weeping with the rawness of another piece of past trauma surfacing. This was completely unexpected and quite embarrassing.

I’m not sure what Sean thought, but he reacted by calmly asking his partner to bring him various tinctures, which I put under my tongue and rubbed on my wrists (this latter was something I felt prompted to do intuitively). Within a short period of time I was feeling calm and cushioned mentally and emotionally, much better than when I took Xanax (generic name: alprazolam) for anxiety and emotional upset. It was like all the benefits of the drug with none of the annoying side effects (sleepiness, bodily twitchiness, residual anxiety).

This was around the time I started working with my plant medicines seriously and consistently to help deal with my depression and anxiety. I started with 3 to 5 herbs from my own garden (I love growing the plants and making my own tinctures) and took them daily, trusting that they would do something eventually, though not sure what.

The first thing I found was that my anxiety decreased. I only took alprazolam once or twice every couple of months, and then I stopped altogether. My anxiety was manageable for the most part without taking anything and when I needed something I used my herb tinctures and they worked as well as the meds and better.

Then I found that I hadn’t been depressed in months. This was a very strange feeling, as depression had been an almost constant companion since my early twenties. I understood that the plants I had been working with had gradually shifted both my physical and psychological foundation.

After a summer, fall, and then winter where I didn’t dip into depression I decided that I could finally start to take myself off the antidepressant I had been on for over 24 years. That, though, is another story that I will write about at another point.

Beginning with Nutrition

Before I got to the point where I could consistently work with my plant medicines, though, I changed my diet in major ways. I learned about and started adopting a nutrient-dense way of eating and preparing my food. I soaked my grains and legumes, drank fermented beverages such as kombucha, and started avoiding overly-processed foods and any oils other than coconut, olive, and animal-based oils. I also took cod liver oil and a few supplements.

Until I shifted my diet I did not have the energy, physically or mentally, to work with my plant medicines. After I had been on the nutrient-dense diet for a few years, I had the energy to add the plants into my daily routine. Even before that, though, the fact of eating the way our ancestors did had lessened the severity of my depressions.

The journey out of depression and away from daily anxiety has been long and there have been many pieces to the healing journey. Plant medicines and diet are two big pieces, but by no means all. In healing from depression, anxiety, and PTSD, there are many avenues to healing and many things that can and do help. I recommend finding and using any and all that bring you help and healing, provided that you are taking care of yourself in doing so.

Appreciating Spring

Posted on June 4, 2013 by Iris Weaver

I love the smell of the air in spring. It is so sweet, I just drink it in. It’s like honey, only lighter. I have figured out why the air smells better in spring than at any other time of the year. Every tree and bush that possibly can is blooming, some very inconspicuously and others with showy gusto. Maples have tiny flowers, and oaks have long catkins. There are ornamental cherries and apple trees, and lilacs and lots of bushes and trees whose names I don’t know. All of them are throwing their sweet scents into the air. Anywhere you walk, it smells good, and then every so often you pass a particular shrub, a certain tree, and for a minute the perfume intoxicates you.

The colors are amazing. I’m not even talking about the colors of the flowers, simply the colors of all the leaves and foliage that come back in spring, or that have been around all winter and get highlighted by newly juxtaposed leaves.

The colors of spring are not simply an undifferentiated new-leaf green, they are a subtle, wide-ranging palette of greens and browns and reds. Different shadings of yellow-green, green-yellow, mixed in with greeny-browns and true browns. Deep greens of rhododendrons and evergreens and firs, the latter two with light lime-green tips. Japanese maples, of course, start with red leaves immediately, but other trees and plants start in the red range. The leaves of pink dogwood are deep greeny-pink when they first emerge. Rose bushes have new leaves tinged with red around the edges. Peonies send up their red shoots that later turn green. Other plants start right away with dark green leaves, like the violets that begin with deep green shoots. Day lilies start sending up leaves early, though they don’t bloom until summer. The leaves are a medium green yellow, just a little lighter than iris leaves, which start emerging shortly after the daylilies do.

What also pleases me to see in the spring is the way trees and plants get clothed in their foliage. Driving along the highway this spring has given me a particularly good opportunity to observe this. Trees and bushes don’t come to life fully and thickly leaved. It’s a gradual process, which makes the landscape look like a sponge painting for a few weeks. It appears as if someone has taken sponges of different textures and densities and daubed on the foliage. Some of it is very airy and lacy, while other textures are thicker, richer, more opaque. This, with the wide-ranging palette of shades, makes me feel like I am moving through a living painting.

Chickety-Chickety-Chickweed

Posted on June 4, 2013 by Iris Weaver

Chickweed, Stellaria media

Chickweed is a dainty, shy, yet incredibly persistent plant, called chickweed in part because it is eaten by—you guessed it—chickens.

Chickweed is an annual that can grow several generations in a year, and is found all over the world. Though it has a surprising number of chemical constituents for such a small, innocuous-seeming plant, it is also a marvelous and nutritious salad plant.

As with so many of our most ubiquitous plants, the name is shared by several common species. The plant I am talking about here is Stellaria media. There are several other plants in this genus that share the name chickweed, and several other genuses as well, but today I am talking about Ms S. media. You may be surprised to find that I don’t capitalize her second name, but in botanical nomenclature, the species name is always lower case.

It took me a long time to get to know chickweed, though I had been seeing her around for years. Pictures in books and on weed-killer charts in the hardware store just didn’t seem to relate to what I finally found was a very low-growing, teeny-flowered plant. And by low-growing, I mean only rising a few inches above the ground. And her taste was nothing to write home about, just kind of green.

But, despite her somewhat shy nature, I did start to pay attention and found her everywhere! What really amazes me about chickweed is her ability to grow year-round, even in the seeming dead of winter. I have gone outside in January and looked at a clear spot on the ground, and there is chickweed growing happily, surrounded by snow! It just amazes me. The time when chickweed is nowhere to be found is in the heat of summer. She is a complete no-show in mid-summer, and doesn’t start popping up again until the cooler temperatures return sometime in September.

So what can we do with chickweed, besides admiring her starry flowers and her unwavering determination to grow anywhere she can get a root in? (Boy, do perfect-lawn-lovers hate her!) Chickweed is nutritious to eat, and a great medicine plant both internally and externally.

Chickweed has a great array of minerals, vitamins, proteins, and more. You get such a good boost of nutrition by eating even a handful of the plant. You also get the benefits of her medicinal properties this way.

But chickweed can also be used as medicine by making tinctures, vinegars, and infused oils. She has cooling properties, helping with fevers, infections, and wounds. She also helps with weight loss. How cool is that!

This excerpt by Susun Weed on chickweed gives an idea of how wonderful the physical and energetic medicine of this plant is:

[Steroidal] saponins [contained in chickweed] are soap-like; they emulsify and increase the permeability of all membranes. By creating permeability chickweed encourages shifting boundaries on all levels, from cellular to cosmic. Chickweed saponins increase the absorption of nutrients, especially minerals, from the digestive mucosa [digestive tract]. Her saponins gently dissolve thickened throat and lung membranes, emulsify and thus neutralize toxins, and weaken bacterial cell walls, making them vulnerable to disruption of their activities. (Weed 119)

It is these saponins that in part give chickweed her ability to help with weight loss.

Take a bit of time while chickweed is still enjoying the relative cool of late spring to meet her and get acquainted. She is a true friend for anyone who takes the time to know her.

To learn more from human sources, I suggest these (though of course there are many others):

Wise Woman Herbal: Healing Wise by Susun S. Weed; Ash Tree Publishing; 1989

A Modern Herbal by Mrs. M. Grieve, Dover Publishing

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Stellaria_media

Phone: 617-773-5809

Category Archives: Plant Friends