A Few Plants of Autumn, Some to be Foraged

pokeweed with berries

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.

Blooming smartweed

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

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

Self heal in flower

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

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

ground ivy swathIn 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.

Queen Anne's lace Daucus_carota

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

spruce tree

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

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.

A Little Winter Foraging

When we think of foraging these days it’s usually for plants that haven’t been grown with human intervention. But in a broader sense it means to rummage around and find what food there is, e.g,. “I’m going to forage in the kitchen cupboard for a little snack”

brussels sprouts in bowl-1

Brussels sprouts taken off the stalk, waiting to get ready to be cooked.

Recently I was taking a winter’s walk, noting how much snow had disappeared between yesterday’s walk and today’s. I got drawn to an area near the field behind my house where the woods dwindle and there are various dumping spots for vegetation by the maintenance man and the residents who garden. The main pile of garden detritus caught my attention with a couple of stalks of Brussels sprouts.

Brussels sprouts! Big, long stalks with many little green globes attached. Were they really Brussels sprouts, and were they still in good enough shape to eat?

The answer to both questions was yes. Despite heavy snowfalls and the coldest winter we’ve had in a few years, they were in excellent shape. All I had to was pull them off the stalks. I stuffed my jacket pocket with probably a quart of sprouts. I felt so lucky and so blessed!

 I have been trying hard to avoid, as much as possible, eating food grown with chemicals. These sprouts had their start in a commercial nursery, as a tag attested, and my neighbors use Miracle Grow (shudder) but the soil in our little community garden is living and full of earthworms, weeds (can’t be too many chemicals used!), and nutrients.

Nearby, since most of the snow cover is gone, I found the dark, vibrant green leaves of garlic mustard, and plucked a few to add to my soup.

As I was walking away I saw a rosette of sagey-green leaves, looking a little like evening primrose, but both too long-leaved and too long-stalked to be that. Additionally some of the younger leaves were distinctly toothed, which is definitely not a characteristic of evening primrose.

I had to see what it was. I didn’t think it could be anything poisonous (I’ve had enough experience and have enough knowledge of my local plants to make intelligent guesses), so I tasted a leaf. I thought maybe it was in the mustard family, a slight resemblance to chard leaves in the mid-rib, I think. And indeed, it was slightly sweet and yielded that typical mustard family pepperiness. It’s probably a garden escape, perhaps chard, since my neighbors grow that. I’m leaving it and visiting it again, to see how it grows.

In the meantime, I am going to sip my spruce tea, from spruce needles I foraged yesterday, and think about what delights I will encounter on tomorrow’s walk.

Walking in a Winter Wonderland…

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!

frozen river with hare tracks-2-10-14

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.

snowy tracks-1 2-07-2014

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.

bare black walnut tree in snow 2-2014

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.

black locust branch

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.

What To Do With Your Autumn Produce and Herbs

September is here and for many of us our gardens are starting to wind down. Much of the main thrust of growing has happened and our annuals are starting to finish their life spans, and our perennials are showing signs of slowing down and having a nice winter nap.

Before we say good-bye to all the fabulous plants of summer and fall, in our gardens and in the wild, let’s take some time to harvest what we can dry or preserve or make into helpful medicines.

marigolds in basketHere are some suggestions for what to do with the late summer and autumn bounty of fruit, vegetables, and herbs:

(Note: I use an Excalibur dehydrator for dehydrating. I believe it is about the best one out there, and worth spending the money to get. If you dehydrate in the oven, it will be at a higher heat than a dehydrator, and will be faster and must be watched carefully.)

Tomatoes: Most people know what to do with extra tomatoes—make sauce! But did you know you can also throw them whole into the freezer and when you take them out, the skins will slip right off and you can make sauce with them when you feel like it? Did you know that you can slice them thinly and dehydrate the slices in a dehydrator or very low oven (no more than 175 degrees F.) and have your own sun-dried tomatoes all winter?

Kale and Similar Greens: If you have an abundance of kale, collards, beet greens, or other similar greens that you don’t want to leave in the garden, you can cook them up (chop it before or after cooking) and freeze it in portions to toss in soup during the winter. Or you can dehydrate then and keep them in a paper or plastic bag. Since I don’t have much freezer space, this is my favorite thing to do, as dehydrated fruits and veggies take up relatively little space.

Carrots: They can be sliced and dehydrated. Fabulous in winter dishes!

Apples: If the apples are in decent shape I leave the peels on and just core them, then slice them thinly and dehydrate. If in less good shape, I do peel them. Another great thing to do with apples is core and cut out any bad parts and cook them until very soft. Add cinnamon, nutmeg, and ginger and put in the blender for a fabulous apple sauce. Or cook further to make apple butter (for apple butter you may want to peel the apples first).

I rehydrate my dried apples and use them in desserts during the winter.

 Winter Squashes (Hubbard, Butternut, etc.): If you don’t have room to store your winter squashes, you can actually dehydrate them! I cut them in half, usually lengthwise, plp them cut side down on a cookie sheet—as many halves as possible on a sheet, and cook them at 350 degrees F. until a fork stuck in them goes in easily. When cool, I scoop out the seeds, which can be dried and eaten or composted, and scoop out the flesh. I use a blender or food processor to make a puree out of the squash, and them spread it thinly on baking sheets to dehydrate. The fewer the lumps, the more quicker the dehydrating. I then take the sheets of dried squash and store it in paper bags or glass jars. I love squash soup and squash pudding, so it gets used up quickly.

Herbs: Many herbs are very easy to cut near the ground, gather into small bundles, and hang to air dry. You can then strip the leaves off of the stems and keep the herbs in paper bags or glass jars (plastic is fine if you want to use it).
If you have any herbs whose roots you are drying, chop the roots up first and then spread them on a plate of wicker paper plate holder to dry. If you wait until the roots dry before doing any chopping you may find the roots too tough to cut.

 Basil, Oregano, Mints, Garden Sage, Thyme, Rosemary, Lemon Balm, etc.: Even if your basil, oregano, or mints have gone to bloom, you can still harvest, dry, and use them. Why? Because the flowers of all of them are edible, and are fine to use in your cooking or your teas. Drying any of your herbs and using them in your cooking will give you far more flavorful results than anything you buy already dried at the store. If you don’t grow your own, buy herbs at the farmers market to dry and use during the winter. You will be thrilled with yourself for doing so.

A note about Rosemary: If you live in zone 6 or colder in the United States and you hope your rosemary will stay alive outside over the winter, it won’t (though there are rare exceptions, you are probably not one of them). Unless you can bring it in and give it the right care to keep it alive, just cut all the branches off and dry them for fabulous rosemary seasoning all winter.

 A Pesto Note: You can also make pesto with your extra basil (include the flowers if they’re there, I always do) and freeze it in cubes or small quantities. You can add other herbs to your pesto if you like to change or enhance the flavors. I believe parsley is a good herb to include in your pesto, and one solution to the extra sitting in your garden.

Chives and Parsley: I am not a big parsley fan, and I use only my chives in the summer, so I haven’t tried preserving them. But from what I have read, both parsley and chives can lose most of their taste if just air-dried. Apparently, you are much better off chopping them up, spreading them in a single layer on a baking sheet, freezing in the freezer, and then putting them in a container in the freezer until you need them. You will get much more flavor this way. You can also use this method with other of your culinary herbs.

Roots of Dandelions, Burdock, etc.: If you want to harvest the roots of these edible/medicinal plants for medicinal use, wait until October at least. You want the plant to have started to die back so that the energy is going back into the roots for the winter. This will give you the most nutrients and constituents for health that you want for your medicines and health. Remember to chop them up before drying.

Evening Primrose Oenothera biennis

Evening Primrose–Oenothera biennis

Evening Primrose: This marvelous native plant gives us several wonderful foods in autumn and even winter, depending on the snow cover and how frozen the ground is. Most people are familiar with sight of the seed pods. Contained within the pods are many tiny little seeds that can be shelled out and used in your baking and soups. When you see how tiny the seeds are, you will understand why evening primrose oil is so expensive! In autumn and through into spring, the roots of the first-year plants are edible, with a sharp peppery taste that comes through even after cooking. The roots can be eaten raw or cooked into soups and stir-fries, or used in winter root veggie medleys. The rosettes of leaves that crown the first year roots are also edible, again with a peppery taste, and can be eaten raw mixed into salads or cooked into soups and stir-fries. I find them a bit too strong on their own, so I prefer to mix them with other greens or ingredients.

Appreciating Spring

ground ivy swathI 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.

Plant Allies: Garden Sage

Many people find that they are strongly attracted to certain plants. These plants feel like friends to them and often these are the plants they’ll turn to (or can turn to) when they have a need to be filled. These are plant allies.

One of my favorite plant allies is garden sage (Salvia officinalis). It is strong and hardy, and nothing seems to faze it.
SageIts leaves are grey-green which I find soothing and deeply satisfying. Some of the leaves look leathery and are textured like the surface of your tongue. The leaves and leaf-stem are faintly velvety when new.

Sage has a pungent scent when fresh, and also when the dry leaves are burned for purifying rituals.

I’ve observed how it grows–even branches that seem to be dead will put out leaves and continue to live.

If a stem is left touching the ground it will eventually take root. Cut off the end of a leafy twig or branch, and it will soon grow more.

A sage twig came off of one of the plants I was transplanting, and I stuck it in some soil.
A few weeks later, its green leaves telling me it was still alive, I dug it up with its fledgling roots to put in the garden.

With leaves from one of my sage plants I made a wreath: wired bunches of fresh sage onto a grapevine base and left it lying flat so that the leaves wouldn’t all droop towards the floor. The leaves dried into wonderful forms, twisting and turning and becoming a deeper shade of sage greeny-grey. It is exquisite, and stands alone as an art object.

One of the reasons that I like sage so much is that it is used for purification and protection. I feel, when I have sage in the house, that simply by its presence there it is providing spiritual protection.

My sage wreath especially seems to be blessing my house by being in it.

Sage is also an ingredient in the dream pillows I make that are intended for lucid dreaming and trance-work. And it is one of my spirit allies.

February 2004

 

Flower Salad

I love using flowers and herbs in salads and cooking.

They give me an involvement with the dish I’m making that is different – more intimate, more interesting, more exciting.

Making salads in the summer involves a little routine.Nasturtium
I take the flat basket I use for gathering herbs and go into the backyard.
In late spring there are chive blossoms, violet flowers, dandelion flowers. In summer there are nasturtium blossoms and leaves, lemon gem and tangerine gem marigold flowers, chives, wood sorrel, violet leaves, and purslane. Chickweed grows where it’s shady and cool and is unobtrusive in salads.

And there are more weeds to eat, flourishing where I let them grow in my garden.
A few years ago I discovered the tasty pleasure of adding a few leaves of herbs like lemon balm, bee balm, thyme, and basil. And oh yes! the johnny jumpups! They don’t have a lot of taste, but the flowers sure are pretty in with the other colors in the salad.

I’m not always a big fan of salads, but adding in these flowers and herbs makes the salad more appealing and flavorful, so I eat it much more readily.

2005