The Hedgerow Clock
Push open the gate and step into the beautiful field beyond. You are invited to immerse yourself in the amazing world of wild plants whilst we take you on a virtual tour through the hedgerows as the year gently spins its seasonal cycles. Over the years of practicing as a medical herbalist, I have watched the various herbs in the hedgerows blossom at certain times of the year, and have come to regard the hedgerow as a natural clock. I can tell where I am in the ‘herbal year’ by looking at which plants are flowering in the hedges.
You might notice that most of the plants that we shall visit are what gardeners call “weeds”. To a medical herbalist, these plants are our friends, and form the greater part of our Materia Medica – our herbal dispensary. In days gone by, people naturally used wild plants as their food and medicine, but in the last century, this connection with Nature has been lost.
Our mission is to remind our visitors of the wonderful help that we have in these “weeds”, and to engender in you a feeling of kindliness towards our indigenous healing plants. As you learn how amazing these plants are, and as you begin to recognize them in the hedgerow, you might even begin to develop a fondness towards these plants. This is not weird – Man has been doing this for millions of years. We have only recently forgotten.
March
 Now as the Spring Equinox is upon us, let us begin our tour of the Hedgerow Clock with the delightful Cowslip (Primula veris).
These once abundant pale yellow flowers were so popular for picking that they are not as easily found on the banks as they once might have been. Perhaps too many were brought into the home with the joy of seeing colour at last after the long dark winters, or perhaps it was the very popular and slightly narcotic Cowslip wine which resulted in their population demise. These days Cowslips are protected by law, but in ancient times it is said that the flowers were protected by magical creatures, and dedicated to the Norse goddess Freya, the Goddess of Love, Beauty and War!
We shall come across goddess Freya again at the other end of the year in connection with Mistletoe, but for now I wonder whether the goddess used these flowers as part of her beauty regime. Certainly it has been well known by mortal women that an ointment of the flowers and leaves will restore lost beauty and remove wrinkles.
Cowslips are a gentle sedative, and the old herbalists used Cowslip flowers to calm “the phrensies”, and even for paralytic ailments, hence its old name Palsy Wort. Even when I studied herbal medicine in the 1990's, we were taught that an infusion of the flowers will help the insomniac to drop off to sleep, especially those who were too tired for sleep. They are such dear little flowers, that I cannot bear to pick them, but if you feel a restlessness, or have difficulty sleeping, or even suffer the headaches of nervous exhaustion – if you grow them and can bear to pick the flowers, then infuse about 8 flowers in boiling water; I am sure you will have reason to thank them.
 Lesser Celandine (Ranunculus ficaria) is another little joy which welcomes the spring time. With dark glossy green leaves and yellow flowers which almost glitter in the sunshine – they light up many a dark roadside bank. However it is the roots which interest the herbalist.
There is a very very old concept in herbal medicine known as The Doctrine of Signatures. In ancient days it was believed that God marked each plant with a sign, indicating how it might benefit us. A splendid example is the Lesser Celandine, which is also known as Pile Wort. If you pull up a small plant, exposing the roots, you will see that they bear a remarkable resemblance to piles, and indeed it is for this purpose that the root is used. These days we know that the plant is rich in tannins, which have the anti-haemorrhoidal effect when used as an ointment. Please don't forget to replant your Lesser Celandine sample.
 Growing abundantly up every hedge right now is the wonderful Sticky Willy, or Cleavers (Gallium aparine). Cleavers is a strong-growing plant, but its structure is weak, and thus it needs to lean on other hedge plants in order to scramble upwards towards the light. If you feel the plant, you will find that it is quite prickly (hence it's name Sticky Willy). These gentle prickles remind us of a filter, and indeed for centuries it has been used as a lymphatic cleanser, filtering out the debris from the lymphatic fluid.
Herbalists use this herb to reduce the glandular swelling of tonsillitis, glandular fever or lumpy breasts. Again, you can see The Doctrine of Signatures, for when the plant comes into fruit, it has small round fruits. Without much imagination, you can see how this plant mimics the lymphatic system with its long vessels and lymph glands.
It may be very useful in these days of obesity, as it was assured that by drinking this herb, you would become “lean and lank” - just like the plant, if you notice.
April
 In the garden, Chickweed (Stellaria media) is another unloved weed, but it is highly valued by herbalists, and at Botanica Medica Chickweed crème is one of our most popular products. In herbal medicine, Chickweed is described as a 'refrigerant'. You can experience this yourself on a summer's day by placing your hot cheek against a mound of chickweed. Immediately you will notice how cool and soothing the plant feels against your skin. This is a very comforting herb for hot itchy skin conditions, especially eczema. The herb soothes and cools itchy skin, whilst repairing the damage caused from scratching. It is incredibly safe, and we have wonderful results with infant's eczema and nappy rash.
At Botanica Medica, we extract the active ingredients from the plant and make it into a crème, but at home you can quite easily pick two large handfuls of the plant and add it to a teapot of boiling water. This infusion may be added to a bath if you are sunburnt, or when cool, sponged over an area which may have been burnt or suffering from eczema. This infusion can also be drunk hot or cold, to soothe inflammation of the digestive tract such as stomach ulcers or gastroenteritis.
Chickweed is also very effective as a poultice for carbuncles and boils. In this case you would take the herb, and wrap it in muslin or a clean cotton cloth. Dip the pad into very hot water, and allow to cool enough so that you can squeeze out the excess water, then apply to the boil. Leave it until the pad cools, then repeat. The poultice should soften the skin and help to draw out the pus, so that the boil bursts. (I would then disinfect the wound with a tincture of Myrrh or Calendula.)
 There is an old saying which states that “when you can put your foot on seven daisies – spring is come”. The dear little Lawn Daisy (Bellis perennis) has long been ignored as a medicine, but when you know its much older name, you will realize that it has had a place of great importance in its relationship with man. The lawn daisy is also known as Poor Man’s Arnica, or Bruise Wort.
“Wort” is the Anglo-Saxon word for herb or plant. In ancient times it was “weord” or “wyrt”, and a garden was a “weord-yard” or a “wurt-yard”. You will notice that many herbs have the word “wort” and it is usually preceded by a description of the plant. For instance we have Motherwort (helpful in child birth), St John’s wort (flowers on St John’s Day), or Lung wort (used in the past for tuberculosis).
The name “Daisy” comes from “Day’s-Eye”, which refers to the way daisies seem to gaze adoringly at the sun as it moves over the sky during the day. When the sun sets or clouds cover the sun, they close their petals.
Lawn daisies splendidly help recovery from sprains and bruises. It is as simple as gathering a handful of daisies and covering them in a teapot with boiling water. After 10 minutes, add this tea to a foot bath of tepid water and immerse your sprained foot into the water for about 20 minutes. A poultice can be made for bruises on less convenient body parts. Bear in mind that this should be done several times through the day – but you will notice how quickly the swelling reduces.
 Wild Garlic (Allium ursinum) is not a herb that herbalists tend to use in our dispensaries, however it is certainly a plant which we look forward to using in our kitchens. It is very easy to find wild garlic or Ransoms - just find an old undisturbed woodland, then follow your nose. In April the flowers open and release such a pungent odour of garlic that you can even smell it as you drive past.
Last year, I showed a friend a large area of wild garlic. At the time he was suffering from a sinus infection, and as soon as I told him that these have very similar actions to cultivated garlic, he picked a few flower heads and ate them then and there. His grandson looked at him in amazement, and was terribly impressed when my friend’s sinuses immediately cleared. His grandson, who is my 11 year old protégé, reminded me last week that hehad also eaten the wild garlic with Grandad, and it had completely cleared his hay-fever sinusitis, and that he remained free of hay-fever for weeks afterwards.
Wild garlic is a respiratory disinfectant, and can be used to treat bronchial infections, sinus infections, and coughs. It is also used for dysbiosis, which is an over-growth of the unfriendly bacteria or yeast in the gut, which causes bloating, gas and fermentation. The leaves, flowers or bulb will kill thread worms, and like garlic can be used to lower blood pressure and cholesterol.
The leaves, flowers and seed heads are delicious to eat. I find the flowers add a lovely sharpness to salads or sprinkled over new potatoes with fresh butter. The leaves can be turned into pesto, or eaten with a chicken and mayonnaise sandwich, or cheese and tomato sandwich. Some people eat them with a peanut butter sandwich. I still intend to make a wild garlic and potato soup, but this weekend I started by making a delicious Wild Garlic pesto.
Wild Garlic Pesto:
Wash a handful of freshly picked wild garlic leaves
3 tablespoons of grated Parmesan cheese
Olive oil
Roughly chop the wild garlic leaves then add to the blender with the Parmesan cheese, and enough olive oil to generously cover the leaves. Whizz in the blender to the consistency of your choice. This pesto has a lovely green flavour with a fairly sharp garlicky aftertaste. It is delicious with grilled or roasted lamb, chicken, salmon, or pasta with fresh cherry tomatoes.
A word of caution: Please be very careful if you choose to wild harvest, that you are harvesting the correct plant. Wild garlic looks very similar to Lily of the Valley (Convallaria majalis) which affects the heart. Also please be aware that the land might belong to someone, and it might not be legal to collect the plants. Finally, if it is legal to collect, and you are certain that you are harvesting the correct plant, please harvest with consideration for the plants themselves. Please don’t collect so much that it negatively impacts on the plant’s survival. In the past, shamans would always ask the plants permission to collect its leaves, bark, roots etc, and would leave a gift in exchange. If you think that is a bit odd, it does at the very least show respect and is a measure of exchange for a living being, which is offering you its body for your food or healing.
May
 The merry month of May can hardly be mentioned without discussing the Hawthorn tree or May blossom (Crataegus spp.). This really is a tree of the heart. Therapeutically, we know that the plant reduces blood pressure, and dilates the coronary blood vessels (the blood vessels supplying the heart muscle). Many years ago, when I was a student of herbal medicine, we were taught that Hawthorn is the herb of the old heart. By dilating the coronary blood vessels, more blood (therefore oxygen and nutrition) is delivered into the cardiac muscle, thus giving it strength to continue beating.
Spare a thought for the generosity of your heart. That muscle has contracted approximately 70 times every single minute of your life, and you can quite understand that after perhaps 75 years, it might become a little weary. For similar purposes, this plant is also useful for sportsmen or those with weak muscles, as it helps to deliver oxygen to the muscles.
I tend to use the berries and leaves for the physical heart, and the flowers and leaves for the emotional heart. It is not uncommon for a concerned mother to pop into Botanica Medica asking if there is anything we have to offer her heartbroken teen-aged daughter who has just experienced her first break-up. On these occasions, I might combine Hawthorn flowers, with Rose, and perhaps a little Vervaine (which we say is as comforting as a mother's hug).
May-blossom is associated with Beltane, the pagan celebration of fertility, which falls around the 1st of May. At the beginning of summer, dancers used to (and still do) celebrate the fertility of summer amongst the Beltane fires, but in days gone by, the young people used to go out 'a-Maying' in the morning. Ostensibly they were collecting May blossom for the festival, but in reality, there was a lot of rustling in the bushes, and a fair amount of the following year's children were conceived that day. Think too, of the Maypole with maidens dancing around it – a powerful symbol of fertility.
It used to be said that only witches could bring May blossom into the home with impunity. This reliable test said that if you brought May into the home, your mother would die; but if she didn't die – then you were surely a witch.
Hawthorn is also strongly associated with the Christian faith. Joseph of Arimathea was the wealthy uncle of Jesus, who brought the message of love to the world. After the crucifixion, Joseph fled the Romans in Jerusalem, and brought his party of Jesus' family and followers to Britain, which he knew well as an established tin trader. The story goes that he sailed for the island of Glastonbury (the sea level was higher 2000 years ago). When he landed, he struck his staff into the soil, and miraculously, it sprouted. This tree became known as The Holy Thorn. A cutting of it still lives in Glastonbury, and flowers both in May and December, as the Mediterranean Crataegus species do. I have checked the tree - it does flower in December, and I believe that a sprig of the blossom is sent to the Queen's table each Christmas.
Tragically, last year, vandals cut The Holy Thorn down, but there is still a very old Holy Thorn tree living within the Abbey Gardens. At Botanica Medica, we make our own tinctures, and each year, I go to Glastonbury to pick a sprig of Holy Thorn, which is added to our hawthorn tincture.
Observe these trees – they are all quite haggard in appearance, with thorns and delicate flowers, and they are able to withstand a fairly harsh environment. Much like real love, it is not all petals and fragrance, and it endures. Hawthorn is a beautiful tree of the heart and love.
 White dead-nettle (Lamium album) is a common plant found in cool areas, and flowers late spring. It is frequented by bumble bees, who are able to extend their proboscises almost half an inch into the flower to suck out the honey-like nectar.
Lamium is traditionally used by herbalists as a 'women's herb'. Its main use is to reduce excessive blood flow during heavy periods. This plant may also be used when there is excessive vaginal discharge; however if you do have an unusual discharge, it is important that you are examined by your G.P., in case of infection.
Gabrielle Hatfield tells an enchanting story in her wonderful book "Hatfield's Herbal". The elves had become annoyed with the centipedes who were always stealing their shoes, so they decided to hide them in the nettles, but first they had to cast a spell to stop the nettles from stinging them. Now, if you pick a sprig of dead-nettle and turn it upside down, you will find a tiny pair of elven shoes hiding in the flowers.
Although dead-nettle is not related to stinging nettles, it does look very similar. By establishing itself amongst the protective stinging nettles, dead-nettle uses the common device of disguise, to protect itself from browsing animals. Interestingly, stinging nettles are also used to check the flow of excessive bleeding, and the two herbs can be used very well together. The stinging nettles are also rich in minerals, especially iron, and thus valuable in helping to rebuild the blood after heavy periods.
Currently, Lamium album is being researched as a potential anti-viral agent against the Hepatitis C virus. Another study has shown the plant as a powerful anti-oxidant, and, yet another study documented its ability to stimulate tissue growth in severe skin injuries.
June
 Now we are in the full swing of summer. With lovely balmy summer days, the hedgerow is abundant with blossom, and pollen. Again we revisit the antiquated idea of The Doctrine of Signatures – this time relating to the timing of pollen and herbs for hay-fever.
The beautiful Elder flower tree (Sambucus nigra) is one of the most useful plants in the herbalist's materia medica. At this time of year, it is heavy with the delightfully frothy flower heads which are so deliciously turned into Elderflower cordial or champagne, ice-cream or fritters. You might say the flowers are one of the quintessential tastes of an English summer.
In herbal medicine, the flowers are known to have anti-inflammatory actions on the mucous membranes, and we use the flowers to soothe symptoms of seasonal hay-fever, such as sinusitis or itchy eyes. It is quite simple to make a tea from the flowers and drink as much of this lovely tea as you please to relieve a stuffy nose, making sure to inhale the steam as you do so. If you suffer from sore, itchy eyes, then chill the tea and dip cotton wool pads into the infusion, lie down and then gently place over closed eyelids.
The berries, produced in the autumn, are rich in vitamin C, and flavonoids. Scientific studies are now proving that Elderberries boost our immunity, and the flavonoids found in the berries are able to block the ordinary flu and the H1N1 swine flu viruses from entering our cells, as well as inhibit some gram negative and gram positive bacteria. At Botanica Medica, each year we make the exceedingly delicious Elderberry Rob for this reason. The recipe is so ancient, that it appears to have been long known to people before the first Herbals were written hundreds of years ago. Imagine that! A remedy so ancient, yet just as effective now as it must have been all those centuries ago. That's power!
Going back to The Doctrine of Signatures, isn't it fascinating that the anti-inflammatory flowers blossom at the height of the hay-fever season, and the anti-viral immune boosting berries are available in abundance during autumn, just in time for the cold and flu season?
At the other end of the spectrum from science is the old association which the elder tree has with magical folk stories, or superstition, whichever you prefer to call it. There is a lovely tradition that if you sleep under the Elder tree on the Summer Solstice, you might see the fairy court on their way to the Midsummer's Feast. A German tradition tells us that the Goddess of weather, spinning and witches, Frau Holle, or Hylde-Moer (Earth Mother) lives in, and guards the Elder tree. If ever someone wanted to use the wood of the Elder, they knew to ask Frau Holle's permission, or risk her wrath. The old stories tell us of babies being stolen from the cribs made from Elder wood if the father had not taken the precaution of asking permission from Frau Holle before cutting the tree. It is said that some babies either failed to thrive, or were switched with fairy babies, and although the “changelings” looked similar to the stolen baby, they could be recognised by their evil tempers.
So strong was the belief in the power of this tree, or the Goddess who protected it, that in some rural parts of Europe, people would doff their caps, or greet the tree in passing, and I have read fairly recent accounts of rural hedge trimmers who refused to cut an Elder tree.
Of course, our world is so far removed from these ancient customs, that we cannot imagine such silliness, but herbal medicine has a very long history, richly entangled with the folk lore of times extending far beyond even the Druids. Thousands or hundreds of years ago people ran their lives along belief in magical powers, and tales of dragons and witches were whispered around the fires at night.
In an age when there were no televisions or electrical lights, the night skies were darker, nocturnal sounds closer, and these stories were very much more believable. Many illnesses were attributed to magical beings, and the antidotes were often found in the healing plants of the hedgerow. Healing was considered counter-magical, and the association of herbs with magic was absolutely entangled. Not only for healing, but Elder leaves were hung over doorways to protect the home from witches.
Within this context, you can understand why not very long ago, people would respectfully greet a tree – some still do. You might even think this is all nonsense from the past, but I can tell you that a large percentage of my highly educated patients refer to their herbal prescriptions as their “potion, brew or concoction” - until I correct them.
On a more practical note, the berries have been used by the Scottish to dye their tweeds blue, and the flowers were used for yellow dyes. The leaves have a peculiar smell, some say like mice nests, but I cannot agree on account that I have never sniffed a mouse’s nest. Nonetheless, the odour seems to be particularly repulsive to flies, and the old farmers would hang a handful of crushed leaves on their horses’ headgear, or plant the tree near to barns to ward off the flies. Perhaps if you are plagued by flies during your summer BBQ, you might try placing a handful of lightly crushed leaves on the table. Just don't forget to ask Frau Holle.
Elderflower Fritters:
Pick a few elderflower heads.
Whisk together a little self raising flour, an egg and milk to make a light batter.
Dip the flower heads into the batter and fry in sunflower oil until golden.
Drain on kitchen paper.
Sprinkle with cinnamon sugar and serve with vanilla or pistachio ice-cream.
 On the subject of hay-fever, another plant which we find fabulously helpful is the very common Ribwort (Plantago lanceolata) or Plantain (Plantago major). These plants can be found almost anywhere, in fact they are so common, that they have been referred to as “White man's foot print” by the indigenous people of the countries colonised by the English.
Ribwort and plantain can be used interchangeably, and they represent another of the refrigerant herbs which cool and heal. (See Chickweed, April). The leaves cool and soothe the mucous membranes as well as hot skin conditions. For insect bites or stings, especially nettle stings, it is usually very easy to find a few leaves of ribwort. The old herbals tell us this leaf is also good against the bite of a mad dog! Simply rub a leaf over the sting so that the juice covers the sting, or chew it and apply the pulp as a poultice. You will notice the the pain recedes almost immediately. You might remember my young friend Max, who suffers from hay fever (see Wild Garlic, April). I remember times where we have been collecting herbs and his eyes would be red and itchy from the pollen. Now he knows to thoroughly chew a leaf of ribwort, and within 10 minutes his eyes feel much better. It is not delicious, I can assure you, but it does offer a quick and natural anti-histaminic effect. At Botanica Medica, one of our stand-bys for hay fever, especially in children, is plantain juice.
Be very certain before you eat wild plants that you are eating the correct plant, and also be aware of areas where dogs might have lifted their legs.
We use plantain juice or tincture in winter too, when people have rough hacking coughs, or thick sticky mucus which is difficult to expectorate. Plantain soothes the irritated mucosa of the bronchi and the throat, and makes the mucus thinner, so that is is more easily brought up.
Quick Hay-fever Tea:
A florescence of Elder flowers
4 Ribwort leaves
A small sprig of nettle leaves
Pop into a tea pot and cover with a cup of boiling water. When cool enough, drink this tea, to soothe your symptoms.
July
 Hedge woundwort (Stachys sylvatica) is a pretty but malodorous plant, which is identifiable in the hedges and fields at this time of year by its lovely purple flowers and unpleasant smell. As the name suggests, it has enjoyed an enduring reputation as a herb to heal wounds. The 17th century herbalist, John Gerard says of it “The leaves hereof stamped with hogs grease and applied unto greene wounds in the manner of a pultesse, heale them in short time and in such absolute manner, that it is hard for any that have not had the experience thereof to beleeve.”
This is not a herb which medical herbalists use today, but it has a very long history, and even before Gerard, it was known as All Heal. Culpeper tells us that “it is inferior to none” in its ability to heal wounds. As the herb stops bleeding and promotes the healing of tissues so splendidly, it would make a safe and excellent first aid ointment.
Woundwort Ointment:
To make an ointment, you cut the herb early in July, (making absolutely certain that you are using the correct herb) and bruise it in a mortar and pestle. Then cover it with olive oil, and place this mixture in a pot, floating in another pot of water over a low heat – like a bain-marie. Allow the herb and oil to float in the bath of warm water for at least 2 hours whilst the oil extracts the healing properties from the herb. Then strain the herb from the oil and measure the oil. For every 100ml of oil, add 10g of beeswax. Heat the oil and stir in the beeswax until melted, then pour into a sterilized glass pot and cool in the fridge.
You can use this ointment for all cuts and scrapes, but do make sure that you have thoroughly cleaned the wound before applying the ointment.
In these times of high speed living, a peaceful mind is a blissful rarity. We think too much and when it comes time to sleep, the mind has difficulty quietening down. Restful sleep is absolutely necessary to maintain health and and a cheerful disposition.
 Of course walking in a hedgerow is a wonderfully peaceful and cheering way to pass time, but even I, who love to spend my time in hedgerows, unfortunately do not have the time to relax my mind every day in that natural way. The kindly hedgerow continues to help us by providing Wild lettuce (Lactuca virosa). Lactuca comes from the Latin word for milk “lac”, and if you snap the stem of wild lettuce, you will find a white milky sap oozes out which contains a substance called lactucarium, commonly known as lettuce opium. Herbalists use this herb as a gentle sedative and mild pain reliever.
In large doses, the herb can be slightly narcotic, promoting a feeling of euphoria, and there are records that this herb was used in the old witches’ salves or flying ointments. In the medieval times during the witch burnings, one woman who believed she had flown through the air, was standing trial for practising witchcraft. Her clever lawyer asked the judge whether there was a law against flying, and of course, she escaped punishment. The hippies of the 1960's also loved to promote this herb as a legal high. I am amazed they were so keen on it because it is also used to cool sexual passion. Instructions include washing oneself in cold lettuce tea and then wrapping the left over cold, spiky leaves around the genitals – which is probably enough to dampen anyone's ardour.
This is not a herb which I would encourage the layperson to use, but as medical herbalists, we use it in careful doses to encourage a peaceful sleep. It is especially helpful when pain is interrupting sleep. It is also useful when someone has one of those dry irritable coughs which keep them awake at night.
 Another herb with strong magical associations is Mugwort (Artemisia vulgaris). “Vulgaris” mean common, yet for a very common weed, Mugwort somehow seems to have collected a lot of stories surrounding it with an air of mystery and power. The ancients believed that it protected against fatigue, sunstroke, wild beasts and evil spirits. The Lacnunga is a medical record, written in 1050 and records the Anglo Saxon medical charms, spells and prayers. This book holds a charm known as the Nine Herbs Charm which is both Christian and Pagan. It sings to Mugwort thus:
Remember; Mugwort, what you made known,
What you arranged at the Great proclamation.
You were called Una, the oldest of herbs,
you prevail against three and against thirty,
you prevail against poison and against contagion,
you prevail against the loathsome foe roving through the land.
So we see that nearly 1000 years ago, this herb was valued for its strength and protection, and today there are scientific studies confirming its powerful actions against bacteria, bowel parasites and yellow fever virus, malaria and cancer. The plant is rich in thujone and 1.8 cineole – two natural plant chemicals known to be powerfully anti-microbial. The plant is also rich in artemisinin which is valued as an anti-malarial agent, and may be effective against several types of cancer cells. So although 1000 years ago the “loathsome foe roving through the land” may well have been Plague, we find this amazing weed may be just effective against our modern loathsome plagues of malaria and cancer.
The herb is named after Artemis, the Greek goddess of the Moon, and this gives a clue to our modern use of this herb. It is primarily a woman's herb, which helps to regulate periods and eases period pains. The herb calms nerves and soothes tremors and restlessness. It is also a bitter tonic, thus improving digestion, and as it is also an anti-parasitic herb, we find it very helpful for patients with the sensation of fermentation in their guts – lots of gurgling and smelly gas. It rebalances the intestinal environment by increasing the digestive enzyme secretions, killing unfriendly bacterial overgrowth, encouraging liver detoxification and gently moving the bowels – thus cleansing the colon, leaving the person feeling fresher and lighter.
August
 One of the great joys of the late English summer is wandering along the hedgerows collecting Blackberries (Rubus fructicosus). This annual ritual represents one of the last vestiges of wild harvesting in Britain. There is nothing nicer than coming home with a hoard of berries and turning them into blackberry crumble to be savoured after dinner with thick cream, or sinfully - for breakfast the next day!
Bruce, the fat-bottomed chocolate labrador, who often accompanies my hedgerow forays loves to munch the berries that I toss him (topping up his anti-oxidants, of course).
This common and humble plant has powerful healing properties. Within the dark colour of the fruit lie plant-chemicals called anthocyanins and ellagic acid. These natural chemicals are highly anti-oxidant, and studies have shown them to have cancer protective properties.
The berries are also helpful in conditions such as diabetes where the high blood sugars damage the capillary walls, leading to blindness. The anthocyanins strengthen blood vessel walls, thus protecting the capillaries from damage. This is particularly helpful in conditions such as diabetic retinopathy, piles or varicose veins, where the vessels have become weak.
The berries are packed with vitamin C. A lovely way of naturally supporting your immune system through the winter is to collect the berries and pop them straight into the freezer. Every morning, you can blend a handful of frozen berries with rice milk and a little honey, into a deliciously healthy purple smoothie.
The leaves are rich in tannins, which makes them astringent. Astringency contracts and dries tissues, and so we use it as an anti-bacterial agent, and to reduce inflammation and excessive secretions. The astringency is fairly mild in bramble leaves (compared to oak bark, for instance), but enough to have been used traditionally as a gargle for inflamed sore throats or bleeding gums, and as a tea to relieve diarrhoea and inflamed intestines.
I see the blackberry bush as the very essence of generosity. Notice the enormous abundance with which the fruit is produced – there is more than enough for everyone to enjoy their crumbles, tarts, jams and jellies, with still plenty left over to fatten the birds and mice for the coming winter.
Jo's Recipe for Blackberry Crumble:
Combine equal quantities of blackberries and peeled chopped apples. Place in a buttered oven proof dish and sprinkle generously with cinnamon and demerara sugar. Add the odd clove or two, or even sprig of rosemary if you wish.
In a separate bowl, mix equal portions of rolled oats and ground almonds – enough to generously cover the fruit. Then add some demerara sugar to taste – not too much. Now to the oats and almonds add a goodly handful of grated vintage cheddar cheese, then rub in sufficient fresh butter to form the crumbles.
Sprinkle the crumble on top of the fruit so that the fruit is covered by nearly an inch of crumble.
Pop in the oven and bake until the crumble has turned nicely brown and crunchy. The fruit will have cooked and gently caramelized in some areas. Serve warm with ice-cream or double cream.
 There cannot be a hedgerow rover who hasn't been stung by Nettles (Urtica dioica). When I take people out on herb walks, I love to talk about the ancient magic of this land, and the associations of magic with plants. People are fascinated, of course, but they don't really buy into these stories, until I let them experience green magic for themselves.
I usually ask the group if someone would like to pick me a nettle leaf, with their bare hands. As you would expect, no-one ever offers! So I explain and demonstrate a strange phenomenon that if you approach the nettles in a friendly manner, and pick the leaf quite firmly, once 'captured', you can stroke the leaf like a little pet, and it won't sting you. “Ah Ha!” say some, “That is because you are only stroking it in one direction.” But within minutes, no-one in the group can resist trying, and soon we are all lovingly stroking our nettles - up the leaf, down the leaf, top side or under side, along the sides, along the stem. People even stroke their face and do not get stung. I love this experience, because it is the most powerful way of helping people to fall in love with weeds.
Even weirder, is that once we have turned our attention to another plant, almost inevitably someone in the group brushes against our nettle patch, and gets zapped.
Partly, it is the sting which has made the nettle so valuable in herbal medicine. When the Roman soldiers first invaded Britain 2000 years ago, they found this island far too cold to bear, and so being very manly, they picked nettles and flagellated their legs, which dilated the blood vessels and warmed their muscles. This action is known as a rubefacient action, and it refers to 'reddening the skin'. It has been used by generations of people to ease rheumatism, gout or stiffness in the joints and muscles. The needles of the nettle inject histamine into the skin, bringing a rush of blood to the site of the flogging. This blood rush washes away accumulated toxins such as uric acid crystals, thus relieving the condition.
This was known as heroic medicine, and these days, herbalists are a little kinder to their patients. Nettles are also known as blood cleaners, and so we find that nettle tea has a similar action of washing away the toxic accumulations.
Nettles are a herb which can be used so safely, that I often encourage my patients to cultivate a little patch in their gardens. Why pay for nettle tea bags when nothing is better than fresh nettle tea? Simply pick a sprig of nettles (remembering to approach your nettle in a friendly manner) and pop into a cup of boiling water, with perhaps with a slice of ginger and lemon, and a drop of honey. It is the most delicious invigorating tea.
There are so many recipes which celebrate the nettle. Here in Britain, we all have at least heard of nettle soup. Making nettle soup is a wonderful way to celebrate spring, especially when enjoyed with crusty bread and butter. In Italy, they make nettle ravioli. Someone once told me that she makes nettle pesto, which I am going to try next spring. The simplest way to eat nettles is to stir-fry the leaves in a little butter and garlic to eat as you would spinach. They taste delicious, but have a strangely furry texture – like eating tasty green caterpillars. When cooking with nettles, only use the young fresh tips, because once they turn to flower, they become unpleasant.
Nettles were once renowned as a Spring Tonic. In days gone by, before strawberries were available for Christmas, people would survive the winter on salted meat, and stored root vegetables. By early spring, those who had survived the winter were desperate for fresh greens, and the early wild herbage was eaten as vegetables to cleanse and enrich the blood. The old idea was to stimulate the blood so that it rises like the sap in the trees in spring time.
Nettles are very rich in minerals, especially iron, silica and vitamin K. Vitamin K is essential to help blood clot, and thus nettles are used to stop internal bleeding. This is particularly important for women who suffer from very heavy periods. Regular nettle tea will restrict the excessive bleeding as well as re-nourish the blood with iron, thus helping to prevent anaemia. We still use nettles for this purpose.
Nettles also have an anti-histaminic effect, and thus we use nettles every summer to help those who suffer from hay-fever. Usually we combine nettles with plantain (Plantago lanceolata) and elder flowers (Sambucus nigra).
Every part of the nettle plant is useful medically. The root is popular amongst older men struggling with enlarged prostate glands. Men who use this plant are able to significantly reduce night time urination and it allows the urine to pass more easily and comfortably.
One of the lesser known therapeutic parts of the plant is the seeds. There is a lovely story about unscrupulous horse dealers who used to feed up an old nag with nettle seeds and oats for a few weeks, whereupon said horse would soon be looking splendid enough to be sold for a bag full of coins. However, once back on a diet of grass, the splendid steed would revert (as if by black magic) to an old nag, by which time the horse trader had unfortunately vanished.
Now, I believe that the doctor of an old-age home knew of this story, and ordered the nurses to add nettle seeds to the residents’ porridge, and soon they all became alert and lusty. The alertness could be on account of the essential fatty acids in the seeds which is known to enhance brain function. I don't know why they became lusty, but that is how the story is told – perhaps it was the extra vitamins and minerals.
Finally, although there is so much more to say about nettles, we have all heard of the saying “hair which grows like weeds”. Alopecia (or hair loss) has several causes, but a major cause can be an iron or silica deficiency. Nettle tops are rich in both minerals, and if you want you hair to grow like weeds, then make for yourself a weedy hair tonic.
Weedy Hair Tonic:
Pick a large handful of nettles, and boil in a pot of water for 3 minutes. When cool, strain into a jug, and add a tablespoon of white wine vinegar. Then pour this mixture over your head every day. Do not wash out. Your hair should grow thick and strong, and the vinegar will make it soft and glossy. This can be further enhanced by drinking nettle tea daily.
September
The seasonal clock continues to turn, now towards late summer/early autumn when the heat of the sun has burned off and the days feel warm and gentle. This is the season of ripening and enjoying the fruits of earlier labours. Whilst collecting the pollen and nectar, bees fertilised the early summer blossoms, and now the birds are gorging on the fruits of those flowers. All this, in preparation for the coming winter. Now is the time for us too, to collect the wild berries in preparation for the cold months ahead.
 At this time of year, the Rowan tree (Sorbus aucuparia) displays clusters of the most vibrant orange-red berries. This tree has a strong folk association with protection, particularly against witches and all evil. In the past, it was common to find Rowan trees (also known as Mountain Ash) planted outside the front door, or even to find Rowan twigs formed into crosses and tied with sheep's wool or red thread. These talismans were hung over the doorways of houses, in barns, on horse's headbands, and even tied to the tails of cows. An old saying tells us that “Rowan wood and red thread, makes the witches tremble in dread”. In Scotland it was said that faeries live in the Rowan tree, and that these trees often protect the stone circles where faeries love to dance.
Rowan berries are still used for protection, but latterly more against sore throats than the evil eye. The berry, rich in vitamin C, is traditionally used to treat scurvy, and more latterly, to ease sore throats, tonsillitis and particularly for soothing hoarseness, making Rowan berry syrup highly valued by singers. Rowan berry jelly is considered excellent to eat with venison, and sausages, but if you make your own, please be aware that the seeds are poisonous, so do make sure that the seeds are sieved out of the jelly. The fruit itself is safe to eat, but quite tart in flavour.
Rowan Berry Throat Syrup
Collect a large jam jar of the ripe berries and weigh the berries in grams. Make a note of the weight, then wash the berries well and just cover with boiling water. Add a stick of cinnamon and simmer for 5 minutes, then add 1 tablespoon of Apple Cider Vinegar, and strain, keeping the liquid. Now you need to work out how much sugar to add. Measure the quantity of liquid, then on a calculator, divide the millilitres of liquid by 100, then multiply that figure by 70. This is the quantity in grams of sugar which should be dissolved into the warm Rowan liquid. Store in a sterilized glass bottle and whenever you feel your throat is sore or scratchy, take a teaspoon four times a day for a maximum of 3 days.
Hedgerow Jelly
One of my personal favourite cold and 'flu protection devices is to make Hedgerow jelly. This is my own rather unprofessional recipe, but it has a beautiful taste and is packed with anti-viral and immune plants. Included in this recipe are the anti-viral Elderberries and Blackberries which were mentioned in The Hedgerow Clock June and August respectively.
Near my home is an ancient graveyard in which grows a crab-apple tree. I collect a few crab-apples, some Black-berries, some Elderberries, and a few bay leaves, and pop the whole lot into a pot with a little water, a bit of lemon peel and a few cloves, and boil until the fruit become soft. Then I leave it overnight for the spices to really impregnate the liquid and in the morning strain the liquid into another pot. This I heat again and add as much jam sugar (sugar with pectin) as I think will suffice, then pour into sterilized jam jars.
My hedgerow jelly is delicious on toast, with scones and cream, or with pork sausages or roasts. At this time of the year, the Medical Herbalists of Botanica Medica are very busy helping people suffering from colds and flu's, and yet I almost never get ill. I am quite sure this has something to do with the protection provided by my Hedgerow Jelly.
 Concerning Hawthorn berries – there is an old saying which states “Many Haws – many snaws” (snows). If your local hawthorn tree or hedge is groaning under the weight of haws this year, make a mental note to see if we have lots of snow this winter.
October
 Autumn is such a magical season in the hedgerow clock. Everything seems to be floating gently downwards, back to the earth. Early morning mists hover over fields, and cling to glittering spider webs. The sun lies low in the sky, and falling leaves flutter through the crisp air like sparkling golden coins, leaving deep beds of mulch under towering trees. Female deer nervously nibble on sweet and horse chestnuts beneath ancient trees whilst rival stags bellow their primeval challenge at each other as they have done for thousands of years.
In the 1600's, Mr Nicolas Culpeper liked to say “Any boy who can eat an egg knows this plant”, and still, conkers are well known and a favourite game of children (once they have been dragged away from their screens). The beautiful Horse Chestnut (Aesculus hippocastanum) was so named because it was considered unfit for human consumption, and indeed, within the seed lie saponins, which can irritate the stomach if eaten in large quantities. These fat seeds were in fact, used to feed horses and cattle in Europe, but it was necessary to soak the nut in water overnight, and then throw the water away before grinding the seeds to a meal which was fed to the animals. During World War I, it was discovered that by feeding animals in this manner, the grain could be saved for human consumption, and so indirectly, the horse chestnuts did feed humans during those brave years.
These days, horse chestnuts are valued by medical herbalists for their tonic effect on veins and arteries. I find this herb superb in its ability to help those suffering with bleeding piles, bleeding gums, varicose veins and swollen ankles. I remember a very pretty young woman who was invited to Ascot one year, but dreaded going because she would have to stand all day, and her legs would swell, and cause her terrible pain. She came to see me only two weeks before the event, which is not a lot of time for a herbalist, but after the event, she reported that although it was an extremely hot day, her veins had behaved perfectly!
People tell me that they like to leave conkers on their window sills as it keeps the spiders away, but the ancient people used to respect Grandmother Spider who weaves the web of our lives, and I like spiders in my home.
 The Sweet Chestnut (Castanea sativa) is another enormous tree, commonly found in our parks, and whose nuts are equally relished by deer, squirrels and humans. There is a lovely old saying which states that “Chestnuts are a delicacy for princes and a lusty food for rustic youths”. Now this is interesting because if you ever want to find the deer during the rutting season, you shall find them beneath the chestnut trees, and during the summer the flowers emit a powerful male odour. That said – they do not have a reputation as an aphrodisiac, but rather as a treatment for coughing. Both the leaves and the chestnuts themselves with honey have been used to soothe paroxysmal coughs such as whooping cough.
 Now, amongst all these wonderful stories hiding in the hedgerows, there has to be a villain. The undisputed femme fatale of the hedgerow must be the stunningly beautiful and utterly deadly Aconite (Aconitum napellus). Oh, how alluring she is, with tall willowy stems and deep purple delphinium-like flowers, one is irresistibly drawn closer to look and possibly even pick a flower, but graceful beauty belies her baneful nature. The innocent, picking a stem is likely to become severely poisoned simply by the sap entering his wounded finger, so that he experiences convulsions, body pains and difficulty breathing. This plant is rich in an alkaloid called aconitine – known as the Queen of Poisons. Death comes quickly and coldly – the nerve messages are blocked, and circulation and respiration shut down, all the while there is a sensation of ants crawling over the skin. There is no antidote.
There is an account of a gardener who dug up and cooked Aconite roots by mistake, along with his Jerusalem artichokes. Within 3 hours, he and his friend had died a hideous death, but I am afraid that I have little sympathy for the stupidity of a gardener who, of all people, should known better than to plant a deadly poisonous plant in his kitchen garden.
Aconite was not called wolfbane for nothing. Arrows were dipped into the poison for hunting wolves, bears and panthers, and the plant was also mixed into meat and left out to kill wolves. However, as the old saying goes, the difference between a medicine and a poison is the dose, and Aconite can be used as a powerfully painkilling liniment externally for neuralgia and rheumatic pain, but I have never had the courage to use it.
 As the hedgerow clock ticks slowly away from the warmth of summer and the cold mists rise off the rivers and lakes, the vital forces of the plants sink down into the safety of the dark earth. Now the roots swell with starch and stored nutrients, sufficient to nourish the plant through the winter, and so this is the time when herbalists harvest the root herbs such as Elecampane (Inula helenium). Lifting this root is a wonderfully aromatic experience. The roots are thick and rope-like, and should be followed with muddy fingers, gently pulled from the earth. I snip off these thick finger-like protrusions and the abundant tops, then replant the root ball. Once the roots have been removed, they are scrubbed clean and then sliced carefully to allow them to dry, before turning them into one of our most valuable tinctures for winter.
At this cold and damp time of year, we use Inula for chest infections, when the mucus is difficult to expectorate, or when it has become green or yellow with infection. This pungent warmth of the roots loosens the thick sticky catarrh so that it may be more easily coughed up, but at the same time, it helps to disinfect the lungs. In times gone by, people would have used this herb as a vermifuge – to get rid of worms. I have not used it for this purpose, but I imagine it would be best employed as an enema in this case.
November
There have been many times when people have asked me how the Ancients discovered what each plant is used for in health. It is commonly believed that each discovery occurred through a process of trial and error, whereby if you were ill, you chewed on a plant and either got better or died. Another theory is that primitive man observed the behaviour of other mammals and then copied them. Personally, I do not believe either to be correct, but in truth – we will probably never know for sure. One way to get some idea of what happened all those thousands of years ago, is to listen to what current indigenous cultures have to say about their plant medicines.
Do bear in mind that herbal medicine is very very ancient. Plants have been used as medicine for thousands, possibly even millions of years. Not only have humans used plants as food and medicine throughout our evolution, but we have always woven together plant medicine and spiritual matters so that to heal was considered a sacred art. Plants are referred to as God-given medicines, and in ancient times, the shaman or witch-doctor of the tribe was the one in communication with the Spirits, or the Gods, or the Divine.
If you look at every indigenous culture the world over – they all have or had a Shamanic figure within the tribe or the village. One of the major roles that this important person performed was to go into trance and learn from the spirit of the plants, so that the plants themselves would instruct the shaman as to how it should be used to heal the people. Even today, if you ask a Peruvian shaman, or a Sangoma from Africa, or a Native Indian from America or an Australian Aborginal healer how they learnt about the powers of the plants (to use their language), they will consistently tell you that “the plants teach us.”
It was very normal for our ancient ancestors to interact with the natural world in a way that we have almost completely forgotten. Whereas we use our left brain so powerfully, it is understood that older or more indigenous cultures use both left and right cerebral hemispheres, allowing them to view the natural world quite differently from us. They enjoy much more of a dialogue between human and animal or plant. For instance, the San bushmen of the Kalahari would communicate with the animals before they set out to hunt. Not a beetle can fly into my family home in South Africa, without Constance, our Xhosa house keeper interpreting the meaning of that event with fascinating conviction.
Our white-man-culture has lost the ability to meaningfully communicate with nature, and we think of it as just amusing stories, or perhaps we fear it, or consider it Devilry. Communication with plants is usually taken with a large pinch of salt, but in losing our willingness to engage with the enchantment of nature, we have lost the ability to interact with and experience something so fundamentally beautiful, that it can radically change our personal experience of life, and consequently the way we treat our planet.
Instead of filling our minds with the scintillating beauty of rainbows shimmering out of dew drops, we fill our eyes with the horrors of television - “the facts of life”. Beauty, innocence and a vibrant imagination are also facts of life – and they build within us a heavenly inner world of stability, peace and joy which can radiate from each of us, spreading to our work, our home life and the way we live our lives.
The Old People, as I call them, knew how to communicate with the Spirits of the plants, and so they learnt how to use these plants wisely. This knowledge was passed from shaman to apprentice down countless generations over thousands of years, to the herbalists of the Druids, to the wise-woman of medieval times, to the apothecaries of the 17th century, the still rooms of the great houses in the18th century, to the pioneers of America, the peasants of rural Europe and to the medical herbalists of our time. Now, this ancient knowledge is being confirmed through randomised double blind clinical trials, and lo and behold we occasionally read in the newspaper that scientists have “made a new discovery” about plant medicine. In all likeliness, herbalists have been using this plant for that purpose for hundreds or thousands of years, safely and effectively.
December
 Mistletoe (Viscum album) grows as a parasitic plant on apple and oak trees amongst others, and in the winter when the branches are exposed, the balls of green growth are particularly visible high up at the tops of the trees. The seed is usually applied to a tree by a bird, as a 16th century herbalist so eloquently tells us “The thrush shitith forth the mistleberry onto the tree”. The seed sticks to the branch and begins to invade and grow. The plant grows by feeding parasitically off its host – rather like a cancer, and interestingly, it is as a cancer treatment for which it is so well known.
There are many scientific studies which attest to Viscum album's ability to fight cancer using a number of mechanisms: Cancer, like mistletoe, feeds off its host, and to fuel its greedy growth, it needs to take as much nutrition as possible from its host. A tumour does this by producing its own blood vessel system known as angiogenesis but ironically, mistletoe actually inhibits angiogenesis. In other words, the plant inhibits the growth of the blood vessels, thereby starving the tumour of the nutrition necessary for growth.
Unlike healthy cells, cancer cells do not die. As a medicine, Mistletoe induces natural cell death known as apoptosis. In doing so, it promotes the death of unhealthy cancer cells.
Cancer has a strong link with inflammation, and once again, mistletoe has specific anti-inflammatory actions which have been shown in studies to help inhibit cancer cell growth. Finally, we all have rogue cancer cells in our blood stream every single day, but our immune system quickly disposes of these cells so that they cannot seed themselves and start growing into a tumour. Mistletoe stimulates the natural killer cells within the immune system. These immune cells are directly involved in killing cancer cells. Mistletoe also has another fascinating weapon against cancer in that it traps the chemotherapeutic drugs within the cancer cells by interrupting the malignant cell's detoxifying transport system. One interesting study shows how mistletoe therapy significantly improved quality of life in the 25 people studied. Another study monitored 207 patients following chemotherapy with concurrent mistletoe therapy. The conclusion was that mistletoe therapy stabilised the quality of life, possibly due to reduction in chemotherapy side effects.
Medical herbalists have been using Viscum album to help control high blood pressure for many years and found this to be safe and effective. Modern scientific studies conclude that Mistletoe does reduce the blood pressure, possibly by relaxing the arteries, but also because it appears to significantly reduce cholesterol levels too. Thus we find that we have reason to respect Mistletoe for having a significant part to play in our two biggest killers – cancer and cardiac disease.
In ancient times, Mistletoe was deeply respected, almost venerated as a sacred plant. It is said that it was the most sacred plant of the Druids, possibly because it was seen as a mediator between Heaven and Earth on account of the fact that it never touched the soil. One of the many lores surrounding this plant state that if a piece of Mistletoe should fall and touch the earth, that it was a bad omen for the land for that year. But we have happier associations with Mistletoe and Christmas, and a lovely tradition of kissing under the Mistletoe. As is so common with the myths involving plants, it involves a God. The Norse God Balder was known as the Shining God because he was so beautiful, but he was plagued by dreams that predicted he was to die. All the gods and goddesses loved Balder, and so they extracted a promise from every living creature that it would not harm Balder. Because Balder was immune from harm, the gods would play a game of throwing missiles at Balder, which would always miss him, but of course, the beautiful God had a jealous enemy who, upon feigning concern that nothing could harm him, found out that there was one small and insignificant tree (Mistletoe) which had not been asked because it was too small and weak. The jealous God went to the place of this tree and cut a length from its now strong branches to make a powerful arrow. With this arrow, he tricked Balder's blind brother into throwing the arrow at Balder, and so he killed Balder. The Gods were so distraught that Mistletoe was uprooted and placed high up a tree where it could do no harm. It was also decreed that whosoever walks beneath the Mistletoe should kiss, to show that is a plant of love and not hate.
January
 Betula alba, the elegant Birch, is known by some as The White Lady of the Woods, and truly, if you have ever had the joy of walking in the woods on a glittering frosty night under a full moon, you might have come across a grove of silvery birch trees swaying gently like dancers in the moonlight. Just like the graceful willow, the fluidity of its movement suggests the plant’s therapeutic properties. Birch is rich in salicylates, the natural constituent from which aspirin is derived, and this accounts for its traditional use for pain and stiffness in the joints.
In naturopathic medicine, we acknowledge that arthritis is the result of wear and tear on the cartilage, but we also believe that through poor diet, toxins accumulate in the joints and form crystalline structures. These sharp edge crystals irritate the joint membranes, causing inflammation, but by stimulating the body to flush out the crystals, pain can be much relieved. Birch offers a triple remedy when it comes to arthritic conditions. The aspirin-like salicylates in the sap relieve the inflammation and pain, whilst the plant also acts as a kidney tonic, stimulating the flushing out of toxic crystals in the urine. By stimulating the kidneys, water retention is also reduced, and this can help to ease the weight on the joints. Thus, those who hobble about stiffly from creaky swollen joints, may find that by drinking birch leaf tea two or three times a day, they too may regain their grace of movement through relief of pain
Observe the tall pine Pinus sylvestris standing high on the mountains with its single trunk leading straight up towards the clear sky. To me, it represents the symbol of purity - standing high in the clear mountain air, and purifying the air at the same time with its glorious fragrance. The fragrance of pine comes from the oils within the needles, and this essential oil is very anti-biotic. The French have a delicious tradition of boiling young pine buds in sugar and water to extract a pine syrup. This is bottled for winter coughs and chest infections, and I am told that children sometimes feign a cough just to have a mouthful of this tasty syrup. The plant disinfects the lungs and stimulates expectoration of thick sticky phlegm, thus the medicinal value of the plant is to purify the lungs.
In England, we have a different tradition where we use the essential oil as a rubbing agent to stimulate blood flow to aching muscles and joints. There are several scientific studies which demonstrate the remarkable anti-inflammatory and wound healing properties of pine essential oils.
When I was a child, we used to collect the sticky resin from wounds in the pine trees, and use it to glue flowers and feathers onto pieces of bark to produce our own little rustic masterpieces. Unfortunately the resin would get everywhere, especially bare sunburnt legs, and bath-time was a painful affair of pulling the resin which had glued securely to the hairs on our legs. I still love to collect the dried resin from the bark of pine trees, and particularly delight in throwing these crystals onto glowing coals. Immediately a cathedral-like incense is released into the air, bringing the beauty of the pine forest right into the home.
I also love to make the most glorious bath salts with Pine and Siberian Fir essential oils. Combined, these oils have the ability to relax the mind, and re-invigorate the body. They are absolutely perfect after a very busy week in winter, when you can lie back in the bath with candles alight, and float in the warm water with the exquisite fragrance of pine and high mountain air.
February
A long time ago, someone asked me what the English used as an anti-biotic agent in ancient times when they were cut with a dirty sword or plough. If the wound was not disinfected, the bacterial infection was potentially deadly. This simple question puzzled me because in Northern Europe, we did not have garlic, or cinnamon, powerful thyme or any of the really potent antibiotic herbs. Then I heard a story which helped put two and two together.
An old wives tale advises us to smear mouldy cheese on an open wound. On the face of it, you cannot imagine anything more awful, and yet, when we remember that the wonder drug penicillin comes from the same fungal family as the mould which forms Stilton, we give the old wives the respect they deserve.
 Now, take a look at an ancient tree, and if the air quality is pure, you will find that the branches are covered in lichen, which is a primitive symbiotic plant - half algae and half fungus. It is interesting, isn't it, how similar lichen looks to the mouldy blue veins in Stilton?
In the olden days, when someone injured themselves, they would sprinkle the wound with dried and powdered lichen which acted as a natural anti-biotic, and indeed, its antibacterial actions are quite fascinating. Interestingly, I mentioned this to a friend as we were walking in the African bush, passing under a lush growth of lichen. He told me that it is also an African tradition. Isn't it fascinating how these natural remedies are used in the same way by different ethnic groups, separated by oceans, thousands of miles of land and vastly different cultures?
Science has caught up with this little treasure trove of protection, and studies show this primitive little plant to be very effective against Helicobacter pylori, Staphylococcus aureus, Klebsiella pneumoniae, Salmonella typhimurium, Bacillus subtilis, Listeria monocytogenes, Proteus vulgaris, Yersinia enterocolitica, Staphylococcus aureus, Streptococcus faecalis, to name only a few.
Other traditional remedies include boiling it in milk and drinking for pulmonary conditions such as tuberculosis. Again, we see scientific studies show lichens to be effective against Mycobacterium tuberculosis. Interestingly, that particular study showed that the plant which seemed to be particularly potent against the tuberculosis bug was the utterly delicious cep mushroom, Boletus edulis, and Scottish heather. Heather, it is well known in Scotland, is effective against infections of the lungs and bladder.
Lichens have also been boiled as a tea and taken against thrush, which is backed by more evidence showing it to kill Candida albicans, Candida glabrata, and other infectious fungi such as Aspergillus niger, and Aspergillus fumigatus.
Across the world, lichen has formed an important part of the dyeing industry, particularly in Scotland for the famous Harris Tweed. On those far flung isles, the lichen was fermented in vats with stale urine for about 3 weeks, and used to produce a variety of colours from brown to orange depending on which species is used.
|
