vi Natural Nurture Sarah Frances

Learning from Arnica

Sarah Frances

I grew up foraging hedgerows, growing vegetables and herbs, and then worked with trees and timber for most of my adult life, so, for me, there is no better way to learn and remember than through practical immersion. Techniques become embedded by the actions of doing, participating, copying; learning by demonstration, trial and error, patience, repetition and care. Herbology embodies these principles, and so it seemed natural to gravitate towards this hands-on, intensive, biodynamic practice of herb growing— particularly as part of organic and closed system cultivation. One of the core aspects of my learning during the Herbology Diploma at RBGE was the creation of a physic garden on site, growing specific herbs to be used for preparations in the Green Pharmacy module of the course. Each student grows their herbs from seed, designing and preparing their own garden plots from the onset, cultivating them through the seasons, culminating in a harvest, ready (hopefully) for each student’s specific herbal remedy making. This holistic ‘seed to syrup’ ethos has since informed everything I do, transforming the way I care for my family— especially my disabled daughter. After graduating from RBGE, I spent time with Duncan and Yuriko Ross at Poyntzfield biodynamic herb nursery, on the Black Isle in Scotland. The intensive, biodynamic approach could not be any better show-cased than at Poyntzfield; Duncan has spent a lifetime honing this unique nursery, which is now regarded by many as the epitome of best practice in medicinal herb cultivation. This opportunity allowed me to gain more experience of, and interaction with, herbs. It was deeply immersive. Immediately obvious to anyone who sets foot in the walled grounds is the minute and dedicated attention to detail. For me, it felt key to spend a concentrated time understanding how to care for plants at every stage of their life cycle. The constant tweaking and watch-keeping intrigued me and stimulated my interest in the nurture and care of life (especially young life with masses of potential). It occurred to me that the nursery’s attentive, holistic approach was not that dissimilar to being aboard a small sailing boat, especially during a long passage; the constant attention to detail, the awareness of weather, climate, and environmental conditions, the sense of a journey. The ordered rota of tasks for maintaining growth and optimising performance felt a bit like keeping the sails filled. The conditions at Poyntzfield are very strictly monitored, so that the herbs achieve their optimum, ready for medicinal use. The herbs are constantly attended, to avoid disease or contamination. Every aspect of the work is carried out by hand. This is a very labour intensive and organised environment. Once ‘aboard’ at Poyntzfield, it becomes your whole world, immensely physical and increasingly emotional once the herbs begin to reveal themselves to you.

I worked at the nursery during their annual Arnica (Arnica montana) harvest in mid-

summer. Like Witch Hazel (Hamamelis virginiana) and Tea Tree (Melaleuca alternifolia), Arnica is a household name— but very few of us in the UK know what it looks like, where it comes from, or how it is grown. Arnica montana is a midsummer herb, full of light, warmth and intensity. Native to mountainous regions of Europe and Siberia, these plants thrive at Poyntzfield due to the cold winter periods followed by warm, light summers. Once in bloom, they offer intensive rows of bright, vivid yellow, humming with insects and exuding a poignant fragrance. Harvesting them, I have never felt so energised and fatigued all at the same time. Again, the otherworldliness the experience was like completing a sailing voyage, with its feelings of disorientation, physical tiredness, elation, and a deep sense of success. The really special part was being able to be so devoted to a single species. I had Arnica is on my skin, in my nose, on my breath, filling my vision. Every sense is overwhelmed by this one plant in its multitude, to the extent that, in the evening, when work is done and you are away from the field, seeing something yellow in your peripheral vision leads you to turn to it, even putting out your hand for a nanosecond before you come to your senses. The colour is intoxicating, but the shape and form are enchanting— perfectly imperfect —each flower an individual, a near but not quite exact copy of the previous flower.

The harvesting process is fascinating; each flower is individually hand-picked at its optimum potency, when the central florets are open wide, and the Arnica’s volatile oils are strongest. We harvested with precision, daily, so that every flower was picked at its peak. Even though Duncan cultivates his Arnica plants to be taller-stalked than the wild Arnica, the easiest way to harvest is often down on hands and knees, crawling through the acres of nodding, yellow flowers. The flowers symbolise the Sun, our light-giving star, and it seemed we were gathering buckets full of sunshine all day long. The bees gently murmured as our harvest ran alongside theirs, and time stood still. After collecting the flowerheads each day, we carefully laid them out on trays in the drying room, which was constantly monitored for temperature and humidity. Once dried, the Arnica is supplied directly to Weleda UK, for use in many of their natural products. I loved being so immersed in the intensity of hand harvesting; such a tiny little plant managed to become overwhelming to the point that, down on my knees for long hot days, I actually felt like one of the bees— every sense intoxicated by the Arnica. You don’t forget that feeling, and it now informs my practical applications, how I look at every herbal remedy as more than just a liquid in a jar, but as part of the wider cycle.

Duncan and Yuriko were conscientious in ensuring we had plasters on any (even tiny) cuts or grazes on our skin, to protect ourselves from the volatile oils— which can be an extreme irritant to broken skin. We were also reminded to avoid touching our faces, especially our eyes. But just as they can aggravate, these volatile oils also create euphoria and, after intense periods of time in its presence, the herbal potency of the Arnica was unquestionable. My eyes smarted from the volatile oils in the air and, after constantly handling these silky soft flowers and their soft, mucilaginous roots (similar to Marshmallow’s in texture), my hands felt disconnected from my arms, the skin as elastic as a new-born’s, with a deep softness that seemed to penetrate and rejuvenate my veins and bones. Even after weeks of working in cold, wet water, my hands were in beautiful condition.

Undoubtedly a healing plant of ancient merit, today Arnica is a flagship product for Weleda, used especially in treatments for sports injury, sprains and muscle fatigue. As we know, Arnica is also a go-to remedy for bruising and can be taken internally for bruising in homeopathic dose, so it has very practical modern-day applications. But this practicality doesn’t quite capture the essence of the plant I have come to know— what of its elusive power over our psyche? Or its deeply cosmic ability to transform one’s mental and physical state? I found one clue in Hildegard, who cites its use as an aphrodisiac. Yuriko described another; it’s relationship to travel, to reconnecting body and mind, to entering a new sphere of time and place, to the centring of the out-of-body experience. No wonder the deep, multi layered, complex healing power of Arnica is so revered. This is when I begin to understand the folk history of plants, and the way that they are threaded so intricately through our cultural heritage.

The confidence and practical skills I gained from my experience at Poyntzfield helped me fulfil my desire to develop my own herb physic garden, cultivating my own herbs, which I gather, dry, preserve and use daily in various forms— from natural soaps, to cooking, cleaning, infusing, as well as various culinary and medicinal home preparations. Most of these herbs have been grown from biodynamic seed and they’re like family to me. I began by cultivating a circular bed and then, year by year, have added, removed, divided, and, ultimately, cultivated plants across the whole area. It is still, as all gardens are, a work in progress. Many of the seeds are saved for use in remedies or for next years’ sowing. We take a mix of semi-ripe and hardwood cuttings from Rosemary (Rosmarinus officinalis), Lavender (Lavendula angustifolia), Myrtle (Myrtus communis), Sage (Salvia officinalis) and many more. We also make root cuttings and divisions from Elecampane (Inula helenium), Fennel (Foeniculum vulgare), and Marshmallow (Althaea officinalis), for example. When the herbs spread, we divide St. John’s Wort (Hypericum perforatum), Valerian (Valeriana officinalis), Thyme (Thymus vulgaris), Savory (Satureja hortensis), Ox-eye Daisy (Leucanthemum vulgare), Lawn Camomile (Chamaemelum nobile), Peppermint (Mentha × piperita), Creeping Jenny (Lysimachia nummularia) and Self-heal (Prunella vulgaris). Sowing from seed has meant we can identify the seedlings that appear each year and ‘edit’ the garden as it grows; moving the Yarrow (Achillea millefolium), Foxglove (Digitalis purpurea), Calendula (C. officinalis), Californian Poppy (Eschscholzia californica), Opium Poppy (Papaver somniferum), Black Horehound (Ballota nigra), Avens (Geum urbanum), Pansy (Viola spp.), Plantain (Plantago spp.) and Motherwort (Leonurus cardiaca); allowing space and light between plants; achieving a balance of flowers through the summer. It’s fun to re- orchestrate the garden each year, gently composing new themes as the herbs settle into maturity.