It was downright springy today. The sun was shining, the snow melting off the roof in a steady wet stream, puddles and mud expanding even more. We've had enough above freezing days in a row that I felt it was time to go out and get some poplar buds. The few I had gathered before were oozing their resin into the oil very nicely, and so I slugged on the snowshoes to go have a look.
Now I'm used to gathering poplar buds in the southwest, sometime in early februrary, usually the sun is warm, reflecting back from the sandy wash where the cottonwood trees grow. It gets downright hot at times, but it was always very meditative work. Working slowly from branch to branch, gathering a bud here or there, taking care never to strip one branch of all its buds. If lucky, finding freshly fallen branches on the ground after a windstorm.
But I've never collected the buds in the snow. I mean, the sun was out. And it was reflecting back at me from the blinding white snow. It was so warm that I had to shed my hat, and unzip all my layers. But then came the differences. Snowshoeing through the maze of Balsam Poplar saplings, Sumac trees, spiny raspberry canes and tangling low branches just at snow level (because the snow is probably still three feet in spots. I tripped more than once, got smacked in the face a few times, slid down an embankment, and generally had to pay close attention to where I was going.
Harvesting poplar buds is slow work. 2.5 hours yielded only half a quart jar of sticky, fragrant buds. But oh god the smell- warm, sweet, pungent, vanilla, honey, plus something all its own. Ever so much more fragrant than the Fremont cottonwood buds I am most familiar with. Little droplets of resin hardened on the large, brown buds. Fortunately, this land is blessed with an abundance of sapling sized Poplars, just the right size for a short herbalist to gather from the lower branches.
I was thinking as I gathered, what is the lesson of poplar buds? Certainly she teaches a measure of patience. I mean- you have to wait until JUST the right moment, when the days are warm enough to melt the sticky resin inside the buds, but nights are cold enough to freeze it solid on the outside of the buds. You might go check on them, every week for a month, or more. And then, there's the slow business of collecting the juicy sticky buds, one by one, buds sticking to your hands, for hours on end, to result in a small harvest. Surely we will learn patience from our poplar tree friends.
But also, attention to detail. Small details. Watch where you step, check each bud, pick one by one, add to the jar, observe each branch, never pick too many from one spot, listen for the next tree to call, pick out the tree by paying attention to the grey, furrowed bark on older trees or grey mottled bark on the saplings, with reddish twigs where the growth is new. All of these with no leaves to give it away, and picking it out among the whitish-yellow bark of its relative, aspen, and the bare, yet hairy branches of the sumach. You look up, and notice how big and juicy the buds on the poplar are. Nothing on any of the other trees compares. Notice the aspen buds in some places are already opening catkins! See the pairs of birchkins high on the white birches, and how they blend in with the large poplar buds. Where does one branch end, and another start, which tree is which.
Attention to minute details isn't my forte in the normal world. I have little patience for things like that. I like generalities, patterns, flow. But it is different with the plants. They ask of us more than we would give in other situations. So I give my full attention to all the details of gathering poplar buds. And sink into a state of peace- for a short while, not thinking about how much other shit I have to get done today, how sad and overwhelmed I feel by everything right now. Just be here, now, with the trees, and the sun, and the snow shine, and the birdsong. Following the trail of the turkey tracks through the trees. I wonder if turkey was checking out the poplars too, or perhaps lunching on fallen sumac fruit clusters. "And don't forget to pay attention," says the branch that smacks my cheek with a crack, "Slow Down" says the bramble that grasps at my clothes.
Finally, thirst and hunger urge me back to the house, trudging through the now melted snow crust, where I pour olive oil over the fragrant sticky buds in the jar to infuse for their pain relieving, antiinflammatory, and stimulating properties. I'll go back another time or two, and gather a little bit more before the buds open into leaves and catkins, perhaps tincturing some as a nice stimulant expectorant and bitter digestive stimulant as well. But for now, satisfied coming home smothered in the fragrance of poplar balsam.
I've decided that after a really frustrating week spending too much time on the computer, I had to spend some time on vacation. Yah. So what did I do with my stay at home vacation day #1.
Yummy breakfast- scrambled eggs w/ CSA peppers, squash, onions, garlic and italian sausages. A nice long walk outside. Seems like these days I don't get enough time outside to collect, forage and Identify new plants. So made a point of going out for a little foraging mission and relaxed walk. The air was cool, sun behind the clouds, and sweet breeze kept the mosquitos at bay (for a while anyway). I found a beloved friend whom I've never met in person, Lobelia Inflata. Of course I forgot to bring my field guide along, but I knelt down after she caught my eye, and mysteriously knew who she was. Who said plants don't talk! Maybe it was the little balloon-like seed pods, or the blue flowers, but I instinctively knew it was lobelia, and took a tiny taste of the leaf. Sure enough acrid and biting as hell...tastes like my good friend lobelia. (Later I positively ID'd a specimen I brought home with Newcomb's Wildflower Guide).
Then further up the trail I found the place where the sun breaks through the trees and the goldenrod is blooming a golden song all about the meadow, and set to picking some of the sweet scenting flowering fronds for tincture and oil. As she led me on, she took me to where the St John's Wort patch I've been waiting on all summer is FINALLY in full bloom. I spent a good while picking St John's Wort tops as well before heading home. Nothing like sweet golden plant friends to cheer a weary and gloomy herbalists heart.
Back at home, a quick lunch of cold chicken and cucumbers, smothered in homemade mayonnaise, and I went to town tincturing up my harvest.
It's so beautiful ruby colored sweetness...spiced with ginger, cinnamon stick, clove and cardamom...I Can't wait to try it! Plus its much fun to squish grated beets and apples and salt together into a pink luscious juicy mess!
I guess that might sound like a lot of work, but its a purely relaxing day for me. Now for a supper of baked stuffed zuchinni and homemade marinara!
This class needs a few more people to sign up for it in order to run, so if you are on the fence, now is the time to take action! Please share this information with anyone you know who would be interested. This class is happening at Great Hollow Wilderness School. Great Hollow is a special piece of land with 800+ acres of wild forest, wetland, meadow, stream and garden habitats in New Fairfield, CT. You wouldn't believe the quantities and varieties of medicinal and edible plant allies growing there. You won't want to miss this opportunity!
In addition there are 4 more herbal classes being offered this summer! Check them out!
Advanced cash only materials fee and $25 deposit is required. 10% discount for multiple classes. For information call Great Hollow Wilderness School 203-746-5852 Great Hollow is a program of the Regional YMCA of Western CT
WILD MEDICINE INTENSIVE
Join Herbalist, Wildcrafter and plant lover Darcey Blue French for a weekend intensive learning to identify, harvest, and turn our wild, local medicine plants into useful medicines to stock the pantry! Learn how to make tinctures, elixirs, syrups, honeys, oils, linaments, salves, teas, decoctions, poultices and compresses. Explore the best times to use which type of medicine and also unique ways to use plant medicine including medicinal smudging, herbal bathing and more! This workshop will combine time in the outdoors learning about the plants we will be using and harvesting in their natural environment, along with time in the kitchen concocting herbal potions and medicines, and learning about how to process and store the plants. No previous herbal experience required, just an open mind and a willingness to get up close and personal with the plants. Supplies provided. Materials fee 25$ Class Fee: $125
I'd love to host a july blog party on the following topic:
"Adventures in herbalism: or What wouldn't we do for our herbs" share with us a story of an adventure you've had collecting/wildcrafting herbs...i.e. collecting hops naked in the rain? hanging off a mountainside for elderberry collecting? eluding curious bystanders? etc etc.
Tell us the lengths you would go to, and do in the name of wildcrafting or growing your favorite herbs. What lengths and sacrifices do the herbs ask you to go to or make? What remarkable adventures have you had while being with the plants? What is the nitty gritty down right fun, dirty and challenging aspect of working with plants in the real world?
If everyone is game Submit links to articles on your blog by July 13! I will post the party July 14 or 15!
It's here! It's the blog party! Yipee! We have an amazing collection of writings on all sorts of weedy wonders that herbalists near and far love dearly. Here's the breakdown!
Last fall, I was sitting at a table at our local Green Fair, talking to people about the SweetMedicineCenter, and my work as an herbalist.I happened to be cracking acorns I had collected, roasted and planned to turn into delicious treats for the Open House at the SweetMedicineCenter.Most people approached with genuine interest and friendliness, eager to hear about what I planned to make with these treasures, and what the practition
ers and I had to offer.Many of the young native or Mexican children immediately recognized the nuts I was cracking, saying “bellotas” and asking what I planned to do with them, and tell me how their grandmothers would make bellota soup.At one point I was approached by a woman who began asking questions of me, which escalated into somewhat antagonistic jabs.When I began explaining about how I had spent hours collecting the acorns over several weeks, she began saying to me I had no right to be taking things from the forest, that I was stealing from the trees and the animals, and how could I be so selfish.I tried to explain my wildcrafting ethics to the woman, how I most assuredly collected my bounty with conscious awareness of the plants and animals around me.But this lady had it in her head otherwise, a
nd I gave up explaining.
It is difficult to explain the hours of time spent crouched in the warm sun, lying in the sand, gathering a single acorn at a time by hand, how I felt the trees alive around me, the small animals scurrying around me collecting their own stash of nuts for the cool season, to someone who doesn’t see it that way.I do understand that if everyone also decided to wildcraft, many plants would be stripped bare by over harvesting, and thus laws are enacted to prevent people from “taking” from the earth.
While I understand the idea behind the protection of natural resources, I also feel deeply how these types of ideas and laws have created a disconnect between humans, the earth, and the resources and gifts that Gaia has graciously bestowed.Humans have become increasingly alienated from the natural world, because we no longer understand, in our bones, and our daily sustenance how deeply we are dependent on the earth.Food comes from grocery stores, or if we are fortunate, local organic farms and ranchers, but very few people come in contact with the actual procurement and production of the food that passes through their mouth.Naturally, gardening in the home becomes a way for us to reconnect with our food and the earth, but it is lacking something that the wild foods and animals can teach us, ju
st by their presence, and making ourselves open to it.
As an herbalist I have primarily been a wildcrafter.I do grow some of my medicinal herbs and much of my food in my garden, but there has always been something in the call of the wild places that speaks to my wildest heart.I go to the plants for teaching, for healing, and for medicine.Many people ask why I go to so much effort to wildcraft much of my medicine and a significant portion of food, when it could easily be grown in a garden?I respond, the wild things have a special teaching for us, in this age of disconnect and alienation from nature, that we are still so dependent upon.
The wild plants I go to for medicine and food are tough creatures, they endure the harshest extremes of weather, water scarcity, bugs, fire, and climate change, and yet they persist.They are rich and resilient in the face of challenge.Those wild plants have a strength from which we can both learn from and benefit from medicinally or nutritionally.Plants grown in wild soils that are rich in nutrients are almost always more nutritionally dense than their cultivated counterparts grown in depleted agricultural soils, they endure the extremes and develop compounds that are strong and medicinal in order to resist such challenges.And that is just the beginning of the benefits of using wild plants for food and medicine, but there is more.
Contrary to that woman’s belief about harvesting from the wild, wildcrafting both food and medicine brings me in closer contact with the ever changing environment on which I live and depend, it fosters an intimacy with both the creatures in the environment and the needs of that environment.My regular forays to certain spots through all the seasons teaches me about the cycles which our landscape moves through, I become aware of small changes that might go unnoticed by untrained eyes, but can mean significant environmental changes.I notice when a particular plant population is growing, expanding and becoming ever healthier, or likewise, when a plant population is retreating, getting smaller or moving.In noting these changes I can act responsibly as an herbalist, wildcrafter and inhabitant of the land, by sowing seeds, refraining from harvesting, or encouraging growth and expansion.I notice the years in which little rain fell, and familiar plants are sparse or not present at all.I have seen chaparral bushes brown and drop leaves, and prickly pear turn red and shrivel in response to a particularly long winter drought, and I have seen washes flood in the overabundance of summer rain, ripping out trees by the roots, exposing new rocks and covering over embankments with fresh silt and sand, thus changing the landscape permanently, and influencing the subsequent growth of plants in that area.When I am wildcrafting I notice which animals are also harvesting from the plants, and work in concert, always aware enough to leave more than plenty for the other inhabitants of the landscape, including the soils which take in discarded leaf litter and plant stalks and transform it into mineral rich humus for the next seasons growth of plants.I very rarely wildcraft for the sake of taking plants home solely for medicine or food.I wildcraft for the sake of experiencing the plants in their wild home, for the sake of becoming intimate with the changing moods and needs of my landscape, for the sake of reconnecting myself deeply with the earth, which provides everything I am dependent on, and for the sake of falling in love each day with the stark beauty of this land of extremes and contrasts; of drought and fire, of rain and rushing waters, of tropical vines and giant cactus, of riparian bosques and mountain pine forests.
Join me for the next Medicinal and Edible Plant Walk. Now that summer is upon us, we'll head up into the mountains for a bit of relief from the heat, and enjoy the shade of the trees. Learn the medicinal, edible and functional uses of our native plants, and the prolific naturalized weeds. Experience the plants first hand in their environment: touch, smell, taste, see and even learn to hear what the plants have to offer us. This will be a easy to moderate walk, with no strenuous hiking. The ground is uneven, so please be prepared with good walking shoes. Please bring plenty of water, food, sun and weather protection, notebook, camera and any other note taking tools you would like to use to record our journey with the plants.
We will meet @ the parking lot of the Eclectic Cafe @ Sabino Canyon Road and Tanque Verde Road at 8 am sharp for carpooling. Please bring your Catalina Mountains Pass if you have one and are willing to be a driver. RSVP to Darcey @ blueturtlebotanicals@gmail
Hi Plant Lovers, It's that time again! How about one more foray into the low desert washes to check out the spring blooms, before the heat burns! This time, a special inclusion in honor of May Day, and spring in the desert, we will spend a good chunk of time on this herb walk learning how to make flower essences from the flowers all around us in the desert. Everyone will take home a bottles of mother essence of flower essences we will make during the walk. Please come prepared for warm weather, sunshine and quiet time with the flowers. Good shoes, water and food are a must. Note pad, cameras, are nice too. We will be walking in a sandy wash. No rocks, but there are downed trees and branches.
Please bring two 1 oz bottles for your flower essences.
May 2 8 am - 1pm Cost is $35 per person, which covers supplies for flower essences (excluding bottles). We will meet @ the parking lot near Eclectic Cafe on Sabino Canyon Road and Tanque Verde Road promptly at 8 am for carpooling to the site. Please register in advance. Space is limited to 10.
By late April in the Sonoran desert many of the spring wildflowers are fading from view as the temperatures begin to soar into the 90’s and any spring rains taper off to a early summer dry spell that lasts until the monsoon rains in July.The once abundant anemone has passed, leaving no trace of its ephemeral existence, spring green grasses are fading to crunchy brown, and trees are leafed out.A foray to one of my favorite plant collecting spots clearly shows the progression of the seasons.The desert plantain finally popped up and went to seed already, and I munch a few of the slimy seedy fruits that taste a bit like a bitter artichoke.A nice trail nibble indeed.Green Manzanita berries are beginning to blush reddish brown, and the local Artemisia is growing taller.The grapevines are finally leafing out with tender fuzzy grape leaves, and the tiniest beginnings of the vine flowers which hold promise of wild grapes come late summer.
I love the diversity and constant shifting of this remarkable desert climate, the mountains and canyons, the valleys and arroyos are always changing, the plants bloom and fruit at different times.The late spring is a good time for harvesting some of the last spring flowers, this week I was blessed with a bounty of Verbena.There are several different species of Verbena that grow in our region, V. goodingii, v. macdougalii, and v. bipinnatifida, and they all interbreed and hybridize.They are all similar in medicinal qualities, and I use them all.I still call it verbena, even though the botanists have reclassified it as Glandularia.There are certain differences in our verbena/glandularia species from the vervains of the east and Europe, but in my experience enough similarities in uses, that I use them interchangeably.Seeing how these grow here in my large desert backyard, I use this one most often.
These verbenas can be found in riparian habitats at almost any elevation, as long as they have water.I’ve harvested plants from the washes in the low desert valley, all the way up to the top of the mountains in recent burn areas on moist northern slopes.This makes it a very handy plant, able to be collected all spring and summer long at various elevations.The lower plants tend to dry up and wither away in early summer, just as the ones living in higher elevations are starting to flower.
As I wandered up the hillside from the wash, I recalled seeing several of the verbena plants by certain trees when I had been looking for anemone several weeks ago.I found those plants and gratefully harvested a few flowering branches.As I wandered the flowering verbena beckoned me onward and upward, every time I moved toward another plant, one just above me would reveal itself.I continued up the hillside, astounded by the quantity of the flowers all around.It was growing interspersed with cat claw acacia, crumbling granitic boulders, and in the wash running down the hillside.In the late afternoon sun, I sat on a boulder, next to a lush flowering verbena, grateful for the wind to cool the sweat on my back, the open view of my favorite riparian valley from above, and the call of the hawks screaming above. Much as verbena does, the collecting mission warmed me, released fluid (sweat) and relaxed the tension of the day held in tight shoulder and back muscles.
My desert Verbena is one of the most versatile medicines I use, and I can apply this sweet flowering plant to almost any situation with great benefit.Energetically it is mildly warm to neutral in temperature, and dry.It is a strong relaxant and seems to affect a variety of tissues in the body, but most specifically nervous, mucous membrane, musculoskeletal, secretory and vascular tissues.Verbena is diffusive, diaphoretic/diuretic, bitter, nervine, antispasmodic, tonic, astringent and emetic in large quantities.
I use both the fresh plant tincture and the tea of our desert verbena.The fresh plant tincture has a funny habit of sort of “gelling” up and getting a bit congealed in the bottle.It doesn’t seem to affect its properties in tincture form, but getting people to accept a strange textured tincture is a hard sell, at best.For that reason I’ve come to rely on the tea more often, but I do use the gloppy tincture most often combined with other tinctures which seems to help the glop dissipate into solution.
A warm/hot tea of the leaves and flowers is relaxant diaphoretic, useful in hot, dry and tense fever.It will induce a good sweat by relaxing tension in the capillaries and secretory tissues, allowing heat to disperse from the core to the surface.Though not specifically anti-infective, I use verbena all the time when coming down with a bug precisely for its relaxing diaphoretic property.Taken cold, or a tincture will alternatively increase diuresis.Somewhat useful for the monthly bloating that accompanies tension and crankiness during the premenstrual period.
I particularly like using verbena for cranky time during PMS, especially for women who are driven to push themselves further than they should, and hold tension in the neck/shoulders, verbena can help them to relax, slow down, release the tension and ease the irritability.This works for men too, of the same type, disregarding the PMS in that case.
I’ve used a tea of verbena to aid new mothers having trouble with nursing and producing milk.Verbena is a mild galactagouge, increases the secretion of fluids (including breast milk) and helps release tension in the upper thoracic area ( right there where the breasts are!), and helps mom to settle down enough to really be with her babe and focus on nursing.I find the tea much better in this case than the tincture, as some of these women really just need to slow down and focus, and the act of making tea feeds that process.
Verbena is also an excellent digestive system remedy for those whose stress levels have impaired their digestion.Verbena is a bitter, and increases digestive secretions all along the digestive tract, and helps to release tension the liver, stomach and bowel.I also use the tea for a ‘nervous” stomach, butterflies, nausea, gas, or general discomfort stemming from nervous tension, usually before giving a public talk, getting on a plane for long distance travel or any other situation that ties your stomach up in knots from the nerves.
I love the contrast of this plant with its amazingly sweet smelling fragrant flowers and the bitter leaves, teaching us about the balance of the sweet and the bitter in life.I love how easy and abundant her healing is, and her versatility, able to be used in many different situations with great, gentle and lasting healing.
This morning I whipped up a batch of springy fresh weed pesto! Almost everyone enjoys fresh basil pesto in the summer, but fewer know the joys of spring pesto made with the first pungent greens and weeds of spring. One of my personal favorites is sweet clover, Melilotus officinalis. I first learned to make clover pesto from Loba at the Anima center so many years ago, and ever since have always harvested the small, fresh, fragrant leaves and flowers of Melilotus for pesto in the spring. It makes a very strong flavored pungent pesto by itself, so I often mix it with other greens and herbs to mellow it out. Aside from its sweet vanilla scent of summer, clover is an excellent blood mover, helping to break up stagnant, pooling blood (and other fluids). Useful as a poultice for mastitis, and both internally and externally for nerve pain or weakness. I find it a wonderful spring food to get the blood and fluids moving and flowing in the body, and stimulate the digestion with its bitter aromatic flavor.
In addition to the clover, I am lucky to have a blossoming nettle patch in my garden plot. I've been harvesting the young nettle greens ( much to my delight and suprise, these very young leaves aren't causing me any headaches at all!) every week. Nettles are popping up all over the country in the warming spring, and I'm sure you can find some near you. Nettles are a wonderful mineral nutrient dense green, which builds the blood with its iron, vitamin K, calcium and more. In many parts of the world, nettles is one of the very first spring greens to pop up after a long winter without green foods, and is often touted as a spring tonic food and beverage. It supports kidney and liver health, skin, hair and nails and much much more. Suffice it to say, a winning spring green to include in your weed pesto, with a mild flavor that complements the stronger taste of clover or dandelion. I often also add dandelion leaves to my weed pesto, but alas, my dandelions are much to small and few to get enough for pesto making, but I've been adding them to my salads on a regular basis. Dandelions are bitter and cooling and diuretic, also very mineral rich. Dandelions help the body efficiently eliminate waste products through the kidneys and bladder, and tone up the liver and our digestion by increasing bile production and bile secretion. You can make your pesto with just dandelion greens as well if other greens are not available to you.
The recipie follows: several handfuls of spring greens. I used equal portions of fresh nettles and clover tops. 2 cloves garlic 1/2 c olive oil juice from 1/2 lemon (more if you use dandelion or other bitter green) 1/2 c toasted walnuts 1 tsp salt
Steam the nettle greens briefly to neutralize the stinging formic acid. Strain and press well to remove as much water as possible.
Add nettles, clover, garlic, nuts, salt, lemon and olive oil to food processor. Be generous with your olive oil to make your pesto thinner. YOu may also add grated parmesean or romano cheese if you wish. I prefer my pesto without cheese.
Blend well in food processor or blender until smooth. Serve on eggs, fish, meat, in salad dressing, or as a dip for crackers or crudites, or as a sandwhich spread! Invigorate the blood and the body with the vitality of spring!
This week I’ve been “stalking” the wild anemone of the southwest, Anemone Tuberosa.This lovely spring wildflower is a shy, small plant that hides underneath the spiny cat claw acacia, mounds of dried grasses, fallen logs, and in the crevasses between rock and soil in the grassy foothills and oak/juniper woodlands of our local mountains.It only grows in any great quantity in years when we’ve been blessed with abundant winter storms with snow and rain, and even then takes a sharp eye to spot due to its small size and tendency to hide.
Anemone, a member of the Ranunculaceae (Buttercup) family, is used much like the more well known Pulsatilla, and is related other medicinal members of the family like clematis and black cohosh.It grows from small tubers (thus the name A. tuberosa) that remain alive in the soil for much longer than the delicate flowers make their appearance.The flowers range from white to pale pink, about an inch or inch and a half in diameter, a single flower per stem.The flowers develop into bulbous, and wooly soft seed clusters that dry and scatter on the wind.The entire plant is extremely acrid, leaving a spicy, burning sensation on the tongue, and irritating to the skin.
Usually this delicate looking but strong and tenacious medicine flowers from late February through March, and occasionally into April, depending on the temperatures and continued spring rain.It has been a particularly busy February for me, juggling both work and several clients a week, with few days off.I finally got a chance to head up to the foothills of my favorite secluded canyon and medicine plant spot one morning this week.The day dawned overcast and significantly cooler than it has been for the last few weeks, and I was eager to be outside, and get a first glimpse at the plants beginning to wake up from winter rest.I knew it had been a fairly wet winter, and recent spring rains further strengthened my hope for a good wildflower year.So off I went to see if one my favorite nervous system remedies was growing in great abundance this year.A short 5 minute walk down the trail, eyes trained to the grassy areas on either side of me, revealed the first glimpse of the beauty, Anemone.I feel to my knees in the grass, gently parting the dried mat away from the multi flowered specimen that had caught my eye.Upon closer inspection, I observed that there were 3 or 4 other individual plants in that small area.I felt such a deep outwelling of gratitude to the plant, for revealing itself to me so quickly, and promising abundance in its plentitude in such a small area.
After a rather humbling experience this past fall in which I didn’t listen to a plant before harvesting, I quieted myself, focused on the small flower before me and asked permission to harvest and make medicine.It has been at least 4 years since I have collected this special medicine, as usually one batch lasts a very good while (small doses usually do the job), and I have spent some time away from the desert in those years.An affirmative response from the plant came to me, one that is difficult to describe in words, but can be distinctly experienced in the senses of the heart and spirit. It is easy to distinguish a “No” from a“yes” when working with plants and harvesting if one is sensitive and open, but I have learned, all too easy to push aside if you aren’t present and focused with the particular plant with which you are working.I’ll elaborate more on this in a future post.
I made an offering to that plant, and tasted a small portion of a leaf with gratitude, feeling the medicine of the plant fill my senses and body, a spreading warmth, a slowing and strengthening of my pulse, and a heavy calm washing over me, in addition to the characteristic burning taste it left on my tongue.
I left that spot and began to wander up the south facing hillside slowly, choosing each step carefully, eyes scanning the ground carefully for the hiding flowers, and sure enough, as the plant I had connected with had assured, there was an abundance of flowering Anemone, in various stages of growth.Some were just sprouting leaves and tiny buds, others were in full flower, and some had even begun setting seed.I quietly began to collect some of the plants, breaking stem off near the ground with my thumb, leaving the tuber in place to grow more plants in the future.The juices of the fresh plant left a burning sensation under my thumb nail as I collected, again showing its strength, especially in the fresh state.As I harvested I found myself reaching under clawing Acacia bushes, crawling on the ground, face down under branches and holding onto rocks and boulders as I found plants that offered themselves for my medicine jar.Much to my delight, as I was harvesting, I saw the beautiful Blue Dicks, Dichelostemma capitatum, with bright blue flowers and long slender lily leaves, and the spring green tender growth and fragrant violet flowers of the native verbena, Glandularia gooddingii, the golden yellow flowers of Corydalis aurea, also known as goldensmoke also dotted the hillside.Indeed, a good year for flowers!
And, as plants are able to do, the anemone made it perfectly clear when it was time to stop harvesting, a combination of not seeing anymore plants, and an inner knowing, said, “This is enough.”So I sat down on a flat rock, took off my pack and sat quietly, taking in the cool spring wind, the sun on my skin and my gratitude for the abundance that the day had given me, in just a few short hours.On my way back down the hillside I stopped to gather some of the flowering verbena (another plant I haven’t harvested in quite a while and have been running low on), and some of the fresh spring growth of the local Artemisia.I chewed a bitter leaf as I walked back, tasting the freshness, the bitterness and vigorous life bursting forth from the new growth.
Desert anemone is a very special medicine to me, one that is particular to the southwest, and so strong, and so useful.Being a member of the Buttercup family, Anemone is a very strong medicine, and small doses are really all that is necessary to receive its benefits.For most people 5-10 drops works beautifully for emotional outbursts, panic/anxiety attacks, PTSD or hormonal mood swings.I use the fresh plant tincture, hanging out in the Michael Moore camp that finds the dried plant much less effective.
Anemone is a supreme warming nervous system remedy, circulatory stimulant, relaxant nervine, digestive stimulant, and blood mover.I use it extensively for anxiety, panic attacks, hysteria, depression and hormonal mood swings.5-10 drops, taken in 3-5 drop doses, every 5 min usually takes the situation down a notch, and I find it works beautifully in combination with cardiovascular/heart remedies like passionflower or motherwort ( if racing heart or palpitations accompany) , muscular relaxants and antispasmodics like lobelia or kava (for constricted respiratory passages, or muscular tension and spasm with pain). I’ll add a little sage, wood betony or St Johns Wort if there is great fear associated with the episode or hawthorn or rose for associated heartbreak.
Anemone is also a supreme remedy for folks who are withdrawing from addictive substances.I’ve only used it for folks coming off of nicotine, or anxiety medications like Xanax, but suspect it would be very useful for other substances as well, especially if there is nervousness, anxiety and tension or emotional outbursts.In these cases I like to complement it with nervous system and adrenal restoring herbs, especially Milky Oat Seed tincture, or St Johns Wort, Scullcap, Nettle Seed or Licorice.The addition of Lobelia can be of particular benefit to those who are working with a nicotine addiction.Michael Moore states that is has been of use for “bad trips” or “hallucinogenic flights of abject terror” or anxiety from marijuana use along with Passionflower.
This is a lovely remedy for women who experience menstrual mood swings, crying jags, depression, dysmenorrhea (cramping), and/or hormonal migraines.Like its cousin Clematis, it can stave off the worst of a migraine if caught and given early, (at the time of visual disturbance), and can be of great aid in the pain and emotional havoc that plague some women at this time.Again, small doses of 5-15 drops, used alone or in combination with other antispasmodics, blood movers, and nervines as appropriate.My most recent experience in this regard combined Anemone with Viburnum, Dioscorea, and Zingiber for clotty, slow to start, painful cramping w/ menses.I only needed 2 doses of this blend spaced about 15-20 min apart to get significant relief from pain and emotional tension that I experience.A very nice acute remedy while addressing the underlying causes of hormonal imbalances or nutritional deficiencies contributing to the picture.
I could go on and on about the various uses of anemone as a stimulating poultice for arthritis, as an eye wash for conjunctivitis, or glaucoma, and a digestive stimulant, but I’ll point you to these other very well written treatises on Anemone and Pulsatilla, and stick to my own personal experience with the plant in my writing.
This is multifaceted treasure of the southwestern deserts and I am deeply grateful to be working with such magnificent plants, tender and strong, fierce and gentle, tenacious and ephemeral.
Today was the first herb and plant walk of the year! The morning was fresh and cool, with a promise of sunny warmth, typical of the late February spring in southern Arizona. 5 lovely ladies, herbalists, body care queens, and nature enthusiasts joined me for a walk in the Tanque Verde Wash. The washes around the Tucson area are a strange mixture of desert plants, riparian trees, weeds that travel on horseback and in the water which periodically runs in the sandy wash. Today, the wash was dry as a bone, but the Cottonwoods (populus fremontii) were covered in both male and female catkins, and the round pods which burst open in a few short weeks and shed mountains of white, fluffy cottony seed. Some of the trees were even far enough along to be bearing small, resinous and delicate tender leaves. We tasted the leaves and buds to experience the stimulating, spicy, resin medicine that the tree gives, and discussed the pros and cons of using the various parts of the plant for medicine ( bud, leaf, bark). Along with the newly leafing out cottonwoods, the Mexican Elders are covered in green, rank leaves. A few more weeeks yet before the Elders put on the flowers so treasured for fevers and flus, but we all enjoyed seeing the new growth. Spring is mustard time in the southwest and we saw at least 3 varieties of mustard, (London Rocket, Black Mustard, Bladderpod). The oats are green and growing and we enjoyed chewing on the spring green, sweet oat stems in the shade of a cottonwood. In a few more weeks the oats will put out their milky seeds which are so remarkable for the nervous system and adrenals. We were even lucky enough to see a real dandelion, complete with flowers, which in the desert is a rare treat, dandelions really aren't that common in these parts, mostly due to the lack of watered lawns. We discussed the finer details of making pain relieving linaments with plants such as cottonwood, tobacco, using both oils and tinctures of various combinations of plants, and the making of delectable treats like clover pesto, and london rocket salad.
We were ecstatically suprised to find the native Chia sage (salvia columbularie) starting to flower as well! By the end of the morning the sun was shining down in full desert force, and forced us into the shade and back to the cars. It was a beautiful day of sharing the medicine and joy of the plants in the desert, and so worth braving the heat for! I hope to see you on the next walk in March, when the flowers will REALLY be out in full glory!
Register for the herb walk in March by e mail (blueturtlebotanicals@gmail.com). 25$ per person.
Though it really hasn't felt like it for the last month and a half with freezing temperatures, frosty mornings and a heavy heart, spring is now just around the corner. It was a beautiful warm day, though I know in other places around the country people are struggling to stay warm. I couldn't resist the urge to head out to the washes to check on the progress of the plants. Some of the first spring plants I'll be collecting live in the washes which periodically fill with water and run over the roads and feed the lush riparian growth in and around them with life sustaining water. First among those is usually the cottonwood buds. Our local populus fremontii starts to swell with buds in late January and early Februrary. I walked along under the many tall cottonwoods, checking lower branches for resinous buds, and found that most of the trees were not quite ready, with only terminal buds (but gooey and resinous indeed.) There were a few trees with giant swelling buds covered in a thick, sticky and fragrant resin which works so wonderfully as an oil for painful, inflammed joints, muscles, burns and more. The small portion I did gather today went straight into sesame oil and onto the pilot light of the stove to warm. I'll add to it as I gather more buds in the next few weeks. I never seem to make enough of this oil, as I run out every year just before budding time. It goes into almost any concoction in which a mild pain reliever is indicated and works its magic every time. Interesting to note that the cottonwoods in this particular area seem to be quite heavy with mistletoe. Hard to see when the trees are fully leafed out, it was strikingly obvious to see the bright green leafy mistletoe against the white empty branches of the cottonwoods.
Along the same washes grow the mexican elders (sambucus mexicana) which flower in April and fruit in June. But the elder trees were already leafing out today in the warm sun and my excitement for the coming season grows. I'll be back in early April to harvest the elder flowers, and another favorite plant, the milky oat seeds. There was no trace of the oats that I know grow in this wash yet, but they'll make their appearence soon.
Last seasons cudweed flowers and stalks were brown and crispy and there wasn't any sign of new growth under the blanket of dry, crunchy cottonwood leaves, yet. But the sun is warm, we've had several good rain and snow storms this winter, and I'm looking forward to a very fruitful season, in the meantime I still must be patient with nature and myself as the changes and transitions around me continue to unfold...
The harvest frenzy hasn't stopped yet. The acorns are ripening and falling off the trees simultaneously, depending on the species. I've been picking them up from the sand in the washes almost every trip I've been on up in the the mountains and there are still more to be had, and more I want. Each species of oak has its own flavor, and I've really come to love the flavor of the sweet Bellota Oak (quercus emoryii) that gives acorns in late summer (July/August). I was remiss in collecting many of those this year, as I was away in New Mexico at the Anima center during the bellota season. But I've been collecting the acorns from what I believe to be a blue oak (quercus oblongifolia) and an arizona white oak (querqus arizonica)(As best I can tell without a plant key!) Which are also sweet and delicious, but are better when roasted. I can eat the bellota acorns straight from the shells off the trees, they are so sweet. I spent the morning shelling the latest batch of acorns I've collected and roasted. Then I made apple pie with an acorn and almond meal crust, local organic apples, and local pecans on top in a struesel topping made with brown rice flour. Iused probably half a cup each of ground toasted almonds and ground roasted acorns, and a handful of brown rice flour, plus 1/2 stick of butter and tablespoon or two of cold water. Pressed the dough into the pan and baked for 15 min, before I filled it with sliced apples, cinnamon, clove, sugar and butter. The topping was freshly cracked pecans, brown rice flour, butter and sugar.
Served with handwhipped cream with vanilla powder, it was truly a fall treat. Nothing says fall like pie and squash! I settled for pie! The marigold I've been after all summer has finally started to bloom in full force ( see the picture above), and I've been gathering loads of flowering fronds for tea, and clipped some flowers for a rich, fragrant healing oil. I've written before about my preferences for making fresh plant oils, and I've found that if I cover the jar with a paper towel instead of a lid, most of the water from fresh plants evaporates out of the oil naturally. But I have a strange hankering to experiment with my oil prep. I'm steeping two jars of fresh marigold flowers in sesame oil, and have a pile of freshly dried flowers, which I'm going to do the alcohol fogging method with, but instead of steeping the fogged flowers in fresh oil, I'm going to steep them in one of the jars of strained fresh marigold oil, essentially making a double infused oil, with both fresh and dry flowers. It sounds like an interesting way to get more out of the plant. I'll be comparing the oils (fresh flower alone and fresh and dry flower mix) over the winter, and will write about the results and differences!
A leaf, on fire. A blazon, star of autumn. Herald of coming chill. --Darcey Blue French
It is the time of balancing. Today is the autumn equinox, here in the desert we are celebrating the end of summer, and the coming of cooler days. Summer monsoon rains have disappeared, the days remain warm, but now the nights are cool.
The earth is at a juxtaposition between summer and winter at the equinox. It isn't summer any more, it is dry and the rains have stopped, the sunlight has a particular tinge of gold it casts upon the mountains and the palm fronds, the energy of summer has morphed into something different. But it isn't winter yet, either. It is still hot during the day, and the fruits of summer persist in the last flush of warmth. Plants are going mad in their last days of reproduction, producing flowers, fruits and seeds for the next season. Gardens are being planned for cool season harvests, and the return of students always perks up a sleepy summer pueblo with a zing of new energy and activity.
To me, the fall represents a strange blend of the increased activity of last minute harvests, food preservation, garden preparation, and cooler temperatures that allow for more time spent outside; and the increasing desire to retreat inward, reduce activity, and hunker down for the winter. A sort of hibernation.
It's a balancing act I feel quite poignantly, as I have many demands on my time right now, but the overwhelming urge I feel is to retreat inward, look within, and look at my own needs and preparations rather than those of the world around me. I'm constantly choosing between running out to the wildlands for harvesting the many herbs I need to restock my herbal apothecary for the coming months (I still need oodles of things like more raspberry leaves, more goldenrod, agrimony, passionflower, and desert lavender), picking the last of summer fruits for storing and eating during the winter months (I have yet to go pick prickly pear cactus fruits!), preserving and storing those fruits and herbs (canning fruits, cracking walnuts and acorns, stripping, garbling and storing the drying herbs), and finishing up the preparations on my new garden beds so I can plant winter hardy cool season crops that flourish in our mild winters here ( this means finishing the digging, amending and planting of a 60 sq ft bed all the while the days are still too hot to work in, unless it is before 8 am). All this, plus friends and collegues who need my attention, assistance and energy. Yet all I want to do some days is go up in the hills and lay down in the grass and just lay there, and ponder, I want to do more journalling, I want to start writing poetry again, I want to continue working on my lessons as an Anima student. I'm getting cranky with friends and loved ones who impinge on my time and privacy. I'm like a hibernating bear, scrambling to eat as many ripe berries as I can before the long dream sleep of winter, where I can rest and look inward at the many many aspects of myself that need attention. I'm longing for the security of a well stocked pantry, enough money to keep a roof over my head, and the time I need to care for myself, as well as take care of clients, customers and loved ones who desire my attention. It's a precarious balancing act indeed.
But I know the plants won't wait, if I wait too long, I'll miss the window, if I don't get my winter seeds planted in the next few weeks, the cold season could be too far along when they need to be growing.
So, as the Earth sits on this fulcrum between activity and rest, summer and winter, I sit on my own fulcrum of change. It's amazing to me how human life so closely can reflect that which is happening in nature. So many things are fruiting and flowering in my life, yet other things are on the verge of being let go, like leaves falling to the ground as mulch for the future seasons growth.
So as summer falls away and winter draws closer, I'm scurrying to finish everything I hope to, and looking forward to some quieter times in the near future for deeper reflection, and the security of much desired income so I can furnish my little nest of a house with some basics (a bed, for starters, among other things).
This week I'm heading to the hills for harvesting the higher elevation plants (raspberry, agrimony, monkeyflower if I'm lucky, more goldenrod and more marigold).
Happy Equinox to all, may you reap a beautiful harvest this fall!
This is what I had for lunch today... An no, it isn't fried okra! Okra does grow well here in our desert summer, (ask me about the 15 ft tall okra I grew a few years ago,) but a native species of Devils Claw (Proboscidea parviflora). Devils claw, once cultivated by the native peoples as a food and fiber source, grows pretty much like a weed around here, and these were growing along the fence at the community garden where I have my plot. I have also collected them from dry washes in the late summer/early fall (i.e now). You want to pick the green pods when they are still young and tender. If they get too big the stiff fibers toughen up and you can't cut into them easily, nor chew them. Let them go to seed and they turn into dangerous claws that you DON'T want to step on, but make nice decorative items for your natural altars or desert themed centerpiece for the table.
Fried up in some oil with a gluten free flour mix, they taste an awful lot like okra, slimey like okra too. Quite delicious if I say so myself!
here's my recipe: Fried Devils Claw Pods 6-8 small immature pods of Devils Claw, sliced into rounds 1 egg 1/2 c gluten free baking flour from Bob's Red Mill ( or any flour you like, including cornmeal) 1 tsp salt couple of shakes of pepper 1 tsp chile powder
olive oil or butter for frying
slice the pods into rounds. Beat one egg in a bowl, and in a second bowl combine flour and spices. Dip slices into the egg bath, and then into the flour. Fry on medium heat about 4 min each side. Serve hot and enjoy!
Oh yes, the harvest season is in full swing! Monday I made my way up to my grape picking spot, and sure enough, several of the oldest vines were heavy with ripe, purple-blue wild grapes! I've never harvested enough grapes to do much with in the past, but my new spot is very rich. Many, many of the grape clusters were much too high for me to pick, so the birds will get their share too! Now wild grapes, though they look sweet and plump are usually sour and astringent, and hardly suitable for just eating off the vine as a snack (but I can never resist popping a grape into my mouth now and then while I'm picking, even though it made my tounge raw!) Wild grapes are most often turned in juice, jelly or wine, the addition of a little bit of sugar to take the edge off the tartness, turns wild grape juice into the most delicious grapey-ist juice ever. Think Welches x 10. Intense, bursting with flavor, flavanoids, antioxidants and lots of blood enriching nutrients. Of course, you can skip the sugar and add yeast instead (or save a few whole ripe grapes with the whitish coating for a source of wild yeast) and make wild wine! I can't quite decide if I want to ferment my quart of grape juice or sweeten it for drinking straight. I only know I wish I had more, lucky for me, there was a vine very heavy with fruit that was as yet unripe! I'll be going back for more soon!
To make grape juice from wild grapes, this is the process I followed: First, I went ahead and stemmed the grapes, and removed any green or unripe fruits. (Some sites say you dont need to bother stemming them, up to you!)
Then I put our lovely grapes into a deep pan, with just enough water to prevent them from burning. I turned on the pan on medium to warm the fruits and help extract the juice. Mind you, don't boil the grapes, or cook them too long as you'll destroy some of the nutrients in the grapes (vitamins in particular), and some sources said boiling makes the juice bitter.
As the water and grape mixture is warming, begin to mash the grapes gently with a jar or meat tenderizer to break open the skins, and let the juices begin to flow. The water will take on the purple -ruby color of the grape skins, and you can turn the heat off. Then, I let the juice/fruit mixture steep for several hours, and cool, before I began to strain through a mesh strainer. Cheesecloth will also work well, and allow you to squeeze lots of juice out of the grapes.
Press the grapes with the back of a spoon , or squeeze gently to get the juice, and collect in a large container. Save the juice in jars, and then proceed to either sweetening or making wine! I saved my skins and seeds and froze them, along with my jar of juice, just in case I decide to make wine and want to add the skins to the fermenting container. Or if I'm really ambitious I'll separate skins from seeds and dry the seeds and grind them to sprinkle on foods. The seeds are full of antioxidants too like resveratrol, so I won't be tossing them out. Maybe I'll plant a few too. If I make wine, I'll be sure to share my experience, though I'm going to wait a week or so to see if that vine ripens up and I can get more fruit!
On another note, the walnuts are ripe! I went out yesterday, expecting to see them turning dark on the branches, but I guess I was a hair late, because they had all fallen to the ground. I spent a good amount of time picking up walnuts from the sand in the wash, trying to get ones on which the black hull hadn't yet begun to rot, so I can use the hulls for medicine. Our native walnut trees are usually fairly prolific, but the nuts are very small, and the shells very hard! I have to give it a really good whack in the cement mortar and pestle to crack it open. I'll probably be spending a lot of time cracking nuts this week, as I still have acorns to crack as well! In fact, I should probably find some more time to get more walnuts while they are fresh on the ground and before the bugs get to them, and hopefully get more acorns too! So much to do during harvest season!
Then I made apple pie with an acorn and almond meal crust, local organic apples, and local pecans on top in a struesel topping made with brown rice flour. 
Of course, never one to waste things, I've dehydrated all the pressed skins and seeds from the wild grapes and will be grinding them into a powder that can be added to smoothies, cooked grains, or even encapsulated as a natural antioxidant powder, full of resveratrol, grape seeds and wild mineral nutrition! Why waste a good thing??
