The Floral Issue

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i: Editorial

So long, and thanks for all the herbs

Kyra Pollitt, Maddy Mould, Ella Leith, Marianne Hughes, and Anastasia Joyce This month, Marianne Hughes and Hazel Brady introduce that most fragrant and graceful of summer herbs, Meadowsweet (Filipendula ulmaria). We learn of its role in the life and death of the great Scottish warrior Cú Chulainn (Foraging through Folklore; Botanica Fabula), as Amanda Edmiston swears she catches a glimpse of the shape-shifting goddess Morrigan amongst the 'creamy clouds' of the herb's flowers.

Anthroposophical Views explores the healing purpose of fever and serves us lemonade, whilst Ann King brings us recipes for a calming infusion and a scented, soothing balm (Notes from the Brew Room). The Chemistry Column explains the role of esters in creating fragrance, whilst Elizabeth Rimmer's poem (Red Squirrel Presents...) evokes the scents of yore, when Meadowsweet was used as a domestic scatter herb.

Our Artist of the Month, Johanna Dollerson, explains her art as a call to reconnect with and care for our Earth, and a special In Focus column from Patrick M. Lydon and Suhee Kang takes this notion further, examining the Natural Farming movement. Patrick Dunne (The Climate Column) issues a rallying cry for solidarity in the face of climate destruction, whilst Callum Halstead (Sage Advice) encourages us to actively regenerate earth by getting started with composting.

Finally, Marianne Hughes reviews another new book from Aeon Press, this time on inflammation and chronic disease.

Regular readers will know that at this point in the year, we take a break. This year, the current team has decided to bow out, as gracefully as the Meadowsweet. We have thoroughly enjoyed our journey with Herbology News, and we are very proud of our achievements. Over the last two years, we have published twenty-two issues— generously supported by as many artists, many more columnists, and our five staunch patrons. In that time, we have grown a mailing list of 281 active readers, with an additional online readership of 412 who regularly join us from here in the UK, the US, Germany, Malta, Canada, Italy, Switzerland, Ireland, Sweden, and India— as well as our network of stockists. We thank you all. You are a wonderful community. Your engagement has encouraged and fortified us over the last two years.

As we go to press, we are hopeful that the Herbology News baton will pass to a new generation.

We leave it in the lap of the shape-shifting herbal gods, but be sure to keep one eye on this space...

Honorary Executive: Editorial team: Illustration: Finance and Distribution:

Catherine Conway-Payne Kyra Pollitt, Ella Leith, Maddy Mould and Anastasia Joyce Maddy Mould Marianne Hughes

Herbology News is printed on FSC certified, carbon neutral, recycled paper, using non-polluting vegetable-based inks, made from renewable sources.

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i: Contents

i Editorial Frontispiece Contents

The team Maddy Mould

2 3 4

ii Artist of the Month

Johanna Dollerson

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iii Herb of the Month

Marianne Hughes, Hazel Brady

iv Anthroposophical Views Notes from the Brew Room The Chemistry Column

Dora Wagner Ann King Claire Gormley

14 18 20

v The Climate Column

Patrick Dunne

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vi In Focus: Natural farming

Patrick M. Lydon and Suhee Kang

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vii Sage Advice

Callum Halstead

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viii Foraging Through Folklore Botanica Fabula Red Squirrel Presents…

Ella Leith Amanda Edmiston Elizabeth Rimmer

35 35 40

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ix Book Club Marianne Hughes reviews 42 Inflammation—The Source of Chronic Disease: How to Treat it with Herbs and Natural Healing

by Christine Herbert (Aeon Books, 2022) x Contributors Our Patrons Looking Backward

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44 48 48

Herbology News is against war

We promote PEACE, LOVE and HERBS 5

Johanna Dollerson Blue Moon

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ii: Artist of the Month

Johanna Dollerson

www.johannadollerson.com From the tiniest detail, our Artist of the Month builds intricate and powerful patterns. An artist, craftsperson, Pilates instructor, and organic grower of Lavender (Lavandula spp.) based in Edinburgh and Dorset, Johanna Dollerson received a Diploma in Botanical Illustration from Royal Botanic Garden Edinburgh. She has since applied her acute attention to detail to producing drawings, watercolours, miniature wreaths, and labyrinthine assemblages of pressed leaves and petals. She also creates sustainable stationery, bespoke garden portraits, and artworks using bouquets.

Johanna writes: Jacques Cousteau said: "People protect what they love." But first, we need to see.

I am rather short sighted. My first little pair of spectacles opened a new world to me: the innovation, beauty, and delicate strength of plants. It astonished me that Field Speedwell (Veronica persica), growing out of a gloomy pavement crack, could so easily be stepped over and disregarded, instead of being celebrated as marvellous. My work is often a simple attempt to raise a tiny detail from the ground, frame it at eye level, and encourage the viewer to pause and marvel— not at my craft, but at the work of nature, and the irrepressible optimism of growing things.

When I displayed one of my first large arrangements of pressings, a lady stopped and looked at it for so long that I asked her if she was OK. "Yes," she said. "But what does it say?" Her question sums up much of what I hope my work prompts us to ask. What is nature telling us?

And more: what does this require of me now?

My work is a small stand against our terminal myopia towards the natural world. My media are, in a sense, anachronistic; traditional botanical illustration in graphite and watercolour, but also plant pressings— aged, faded, bleached, and curled, arranged text-like, or in natural jigsaws. These artforms were widely employed during the golden age of exploration and scientific discovery, but my interest in them stems from the inverse: a foreshadowing of imminent loss from the biosphere, a pre-emptive nostalgia. The urge to create, preserve, and record. To spend time with old friends before they are gone.

This may sound rather gloomy, but the process of creation is all joy for me— a meditative labour using the beauty of plants. Considering their delicate strength buoys me, and the way living things look, sound, smell, and feel under my fingertips boosts my health and creativity.

As an artist wholly inspired by nature, I feel driven to restore, protect, and promote it all I can, in the best ways I know how. For me, that means making my art while working on the land to earn my living. I hand-craft restorative natural products from the Lavender I grow, following agroecological principles to boost soil health and habitat for pollinators and wildlife. It's labour-intensive and rewarding. My creative work with plants could be called diversification; really, it's part of a reciprocal relationship. Nourished land nourishes people— their health, their communities, their creativity. Small farms that work with nature are an antidote to the precarious and destructive agricultural systems that predominate now. For us to become an integral part of a flourishing planet again, creativity and optimism on all fronts feel vital.

Johanna welcomes commissions and collaborations. Follow her work and wares on Instagram: @lark_hq

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ii: Artist of the Month

Cover image After May Pressed flowers on mount board offcut 19cm x 19cm, 2022 Other images Blue Moon Pressed flowers on acid free paper, torn edges 25cm x 20cm, 2021 Pressed Sweet Pea Watercolour on hot pressed paper 26cm x 35cm, 2014 Pressings in progress Pressed flowers on mount board offcut Various sizes, 2021 English Bluebell, Hyacinthoides non-scripta Watercolour on hot pressed paper 38cm x 28cm, 2022 Pressed flower greeting card design Litho print on card 15cm x 15cm, 2021 Geranium and Geum Pressed flowers on mount board offcut 19cm x 19cm, 2022 Freesia refracta 'Orange Nassau' Watercolour on hot pressed paper 50cm x 37cm, 2020 Harvest Moon Pressed flowers on acid free paper, torn edges 25cm x 20cm, 2021 Harvest, portrait of a wild walled garden (work in progress) Pressed flowers on acid free paper, torn edges 45cm x 43cm 2021 The artist harvesting Lavender 2021

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Johanna Dollerson Pressed Sweet Pea

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Johanna Dollerson Pressings in progress

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iii: Herb of the Month

Meadowsweet (Filipendula ulmaria) Marianne Hughes, with illustration by Hazel Brady Grieve (1931) comments that Meadowsweet, Watermint (Mentha aquatica), and Vervain (Verbena officinalis) were the three herbs 'held most sacred by the Druids'. Meadowsweet was certainly known in Celtic communities as a malaria and fever treatment.

It is perhaps more widely known that the salicylic acid in Willow (Salix alba, Salix fragilis) has a long record of use in pain relief. In the 5th century, Hippocrates used powdered Willow bark and leaves to control headaches and general pain. However, it was 19th century research on Meadowsweet that led to the development of Aspirin, modelled on the herb's salicylic acid content. The drug company Bayer patented 'Aspirin' in 1899, basing it on the old Latin name for Meadowsweet— Spiraea ulmaria (Bruton-Seal and Seal, 2014).

Plant historians suggest our common name, Meadowsweet, has more to do with mead— the ancient, honeyed drink —than with meadows. In fact, Meadowsweet grows in marshes, streams, ditches, and moist woodland. 'Meadsweet' is an older name for the herb, and William Turner's herbal (1568) records it as 'medewurthe'— a term also used

by Chaucer two centuries earlier (ibid.). This may have much to do with the fragrance of the flower. Barker (2011) relates that a woman in Sutherland gathered Meadowsweet flowers, placed them in a vase in her house, and the fragrance cured her terrible headaches.

Grieve (1931) comments that 'a decoction of the root, in white wine, was formerly considered a specific in fevers'. This sounds delicious and certainly likely to distract from any fever!

As a herbal remedy, Meadowsweet has a long lineage. According to Culpeper (1653): the flowers are alexipharmic [an antidote to poison] and sudorific [sweat inducing], and good in fevers, and all malignant distempers; they are likewise astringent, binding, and useful in fluxes of all sorts. An infusion of the fresh-gathered tops of this plant promotes sweating.

As with many herbs, it is the complexity of Meadowsweet— its mucilage content and perhaps its fragrance too —that renders it most useful. More recently, the uses of Meadowsweet have extended from simply reducing fever towards pain-relief and the plant's broad range of soothing actions. As a painkiller, it does not burn the stomach as Aspirin can. Meadowsweet is also particularly effective for gastric reflux (heartburn), hyperacidity, and children's diarrhoea. The action of reducing acidity in the stomach appears to extend to the body in general, which is why Meadowsweet is effective in treating joint problems, including arthritis.

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iii: Herb of the Month Walsh (2014) cites research demonstrating the immunomodulatory properties of Meadowsweet preparations extracted from both the flowers and roots of the plant. He notes that all parts of Meadowsweet contain high levels of phenolic compounds, including a newly discovered flavonoid glycoside, ulmarioside, which appears unique to Filipendula ulmaria. The ethyl acetate extracts used in the study were shown both to inhibit T-cell proliferation and to complement cascade activation, therefore inhibiting the immune response. They also inhibited the production of reactive oxygen species, known to damage cells. Walsh (ibid.) notes that all these processes play a part in the inflammatory response, thus explaining the effectiveness of Meadowsweet preparations in the treatment of inflammatory conditions.

So, as you walk along country paths or by rivers this summer, look out for the swathes of frothy, white flower heads of Meadowsweet. If you gather these, dry them, and use them to make an infused tea, this will combat both acid indigestion and arthritic or rheumatic aches and pains.

References Barker, A. (2011) Remembered Remedies: Scottish Traditional Plant Lore. Birlinn: Edinburgh Bruton-Seal, J. and Seal, M. (2014) The Herbalist's Bible: John Parkinson's Lost Classic Rediscovered, Merlin Unwin: Shropshire Culpeper, N. (1653) Culpeper's Complete Herbal: consisting of a comprehensive description of nearly all herbs with their medicinal properties and directions for compounding the medicines extracted from them. Foulsham and Co.: Slough Grieve, M. (1931) A Modern Herbal. Hafner Publishing Company: New York Walsh, D. (2014,) 'The anti-inflammatory properties of Meadowsweet', in The Pharmaceutical Journal, online: accessed 04.06.2022

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.

Johanna Dollerson English Bluebell

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iv: Anthroposophical Views

An inner glow Dora Wagner

When life hands you lemons, make lemonade.

Attributed to Elbert Hubbard, 1915

The Dictionary of German Superstition defines fever as 'a healing process...sen[t] by demons', a 'wild movement' that has 'to run riot'. Fever has long been depicted as an elusive phenomenon, possibly involving supernatural forces (Stäubli, 1929). Yet it is so familiar to us that we use the term not only to describe a rise in body temperature, but as a metaphor for crisis, increased excitement, exaggerated tension, or passionate desire.

Until the 19th century, patients described 'flying heat', 'flushes', 'relapses', 'terrible heat', and 'great fire'. Humoral pathological concepts, according to which fever and heat arose from bodily fluids accumulating in the wrong places and spoiling, were still common until the early 20th century. Internal heat was understood as linked to the external cooling of the body. Thus, warmth was primarily used against fever and heat, with various complex and by no means harmless applications.

The first clinical thermometers date back to Daniel Fahrenheit and were difficult to handle.

They typically measured about sixty centimetres, were slow to display results, and many healers who relied on intuition and their senses opposed 'objective' measurement by apparatus (Kucklick, 2017). In 1791, for example, de Grimaud argued the exact value

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of temperature was much less important than 'the acrid and irritating quality of feverish heat', and advised his French colleagues: The physician must above all endeavour to distinguish between qualities in the heat of the fever which can only be perceived by a very experienced sense (de Grimaud, 1791).

This changed in the 1860s, when fever began to be recognised as a symptom of disease, rather than a disease in itself. In 1867, Thomas Allbutt invented the short clinical thermometer, allowing temperature readings to be taken by caregivers and interpreted by a doctor (O'Connor, 1991). Together with pulse and blood pressure, the regular monitoring of body temperature now forms part of our complex patient surveillance.

Isn't it a miracle how, despite varying ambient temperatures, the human organism efficiently maintains an average temperature of 37°C, give or take 0.5°C? It always comes as a surprise, then, when that inner glow rises through our body and fever occurs. These processes are controlled by a thermoregulation centre in the brain.

Inflammatory substances released by pathogens trigger this inner guardian, which is prompted to raise our body temperature. This

iv: Anthroposophical Views

can also occur when we get passionate about something, in fear, excitement, or joy. To achieve higher inner warmth, our body has several ways of limiting the release of heat.

Our skin may become dry, pale, and cold. We experience our normal 37°C as too cold and complain of feeling freezing. Our body constricts the vessels of the skin, which makes our muscles shiver to produce more heat. We help ourselves by wrapping up in warm clothing. Our liver lends a hand, cranking up the metabolism to produce more internal heat. Gradually, as we warm, our skin glows, our cheeks redden, our pulse and respiration increase. We may feel very thirsty. When the fever subsides and the body tries to return to normal, it cools down by sweating. Blood flow to the skin is elevated, causing it to give off heat, become red, moist, or sweaty. Even when the fever is over, we may still feel weak or have a reduced appetite for a while.

Nonetheless, an elevated temperature should not be taken as something that always needs to be counteracted. Fever is mostly a healthy reaction that helps us cope with illness. When we are feverish, the pathogens that trigger disease can only spread slowly, whilst our immune system works faster.

Our endogenous defence system is also strengthened in the longer term. This is especially true for children, whose immune defences are still developing.

Anthroposophical medicine considers fever a sign of an incipient self-healing process, with

an important therapeutic function. Some anthroposophical doctors even introduced fever therapy as a complementary treatment for cancer (Gorter and Peper, 2011).

This approach largely dispenses with antipyretic medicines, preferring external applications to help the patient cope with febrile conditions.

Yarrow (Achillea millefolium) and Arnica (Arnica montana) for the elderly, Lemons (Citrus x limon) for relieving restlessness, drowsiness, headaches, circulatory weakness, or for lowering the temperature. Depending on the complaint, many different external applications are possible, e.g.: Lemon slices on the soles of the feet; whole body washes; circular chest compresses; hand or wrist compresses; calf poultices; heart or forehead packs using Lemon water (GAÄD, 2022). In the treatment of hay fever, subcutaneous injections with highly diluted Lemon and Quince juice (Cydonia oblonga) are used for prophylaxis.

But even if you are not ill— just tired, sweaty, or exhausted —a hand or foot bath with Lemon juice in combination with Lemon essential oil helps to revive your spirits. The essential oils of Lemons dissolve better in hot water but should not be allowed to escape, so for this treatment pour about half a litre of boiling water over a whole Lemon lying in a bowl. Now, using a knife and a fork, cut the Lemon in half while it is submerged under the water. Hold each half with the fork and cut into the peel all around. Now squish the Lemon with the bottom of a cup. Leave it in the water as you add cold water until you reach your desired temperature (not warmer than body temperature). Stir the water with your hand in the shape of a horizontal eight (lemniscate).

Bathe your hands or your feet, or both, for ten minutes each. If bathing both sequentially, you can use the same water. After drying the feet, put on fresh socks, then rest for another ten minutes to enjoy your refreshed body.

The Lemon (Citrus x limon) is one species of small, evergreen tree in the Rutaceae family.

One genomic study (Curk et al., 2016) suggests it was a hybrid between Bitter Orange (Citrus x aurantium) and Citrus 15

iv: Anthroposophical Views medica, an oversized Lemon with a thick rind and a grainy skin that may have a crown-like ending at the tip. Citrus medica is one of the original citrus fruits from which all other citrus species have evolved. Its fruits are symbolic in many religious traditions, such as the variety 'Buddha's Hand' (Citrus medica var. sarcodactylis), native to China, which is sacrificed in Buddhist temples. Under the Hebrew name 'Etrog', Citrus medica is traditionally equated with the 'apple of paradise' during the Jewish harvest festival Sukkot (Herlitz and Kirschner,1927). After the fall of Jerusalem in 70CE, expelled Jewish citizens planted citrus orchards wherever the climate permitted, spreading its cultivation to Spain, Greece, and Italy, to more northern latitudes, and sheltered places.

peculiarity of flowering and fruiting at the same time, so Lemons can be harvested several times a year. Even in my cool, central European garden, a Lemon tree bears many fruits. This is indicative of the strong vitality of the plant, with its anti-inflammatory, decongestant, analgesic, and diuretic properties. Indeed, part of the Lemon's appeal lies in its versatility. The juice, containing citric acid and a lot of vitamin C, has an astringent and structuring effect, and can be used as a remedy for nausea and seasickness. Lemon peels can be used to treat insect bites and its essential oil as a repellent.

The unmistakable scent of its white blossoms, often used as a perfume, lifts the mood, and contributes to relaxation. The flowers may be dried to preserve the fragrance or used as an additive to tea. The mostly shiny, evergreen leaves can be chewed or used to make a tea.

When exposed to sunlight, the essential oils contained in the foliage are released.

We should be grateful that life has gifted us Lemons and sing the praises of this faithful companion. Lemons contain citric acid, vitamin C, pectin, and essential oils, and are among the low-sugar fruits that are suitable for eating raw. A highly versatile fruit, they can be fermented with salt, boiled down with sugar to make pastilles, enjoyed as Lemon curd on hot buttered toast or with scones at afternoon tea. What would we do without this fruit in all our summer drinks, without hot Lemon with honey in times of colds, without candied Lemon peel and jam, without limoncello, Lemon cake or ice cream? In 1796, in the first line of one of his most famous poems, Goethe asks 'Do you know the land where the lemons bloom?', and the poem ends with, 'There! Thither! That is our way; O Lord, let us go!'

Our familiar Lemon (Citrus x limon) is now widespread throughout the world, although it must be overwintered frost-free in our latitudes. The evergreen tree is cultivated both for its fruits and as an ornamental plant, for the flesh and peel of its fruits and the strongly fragrant oil of its wood. It has the 16

I would like to add my counsel that only those who are feverishly dedicated to their goal may reach it.

iv: Anthroposophical Views Images Dora Wagner from Creative Commons Gerdorff, H. (1526) Woodcut detail from 'A doctor feels whether a sick patient has already been seized by fever', in Feldtbůch der Wundartzney. Ed. Johann Schott.

Strasbourg. Digitised version. Public domain.

Redouté, P. J. (1759-1840) Citronier de Médie (Citrus medica). Public Domain References Curk, F., Ollitrault, F., Garcia-Lor, A., Luro, F., Navarro, L., and Ollitrault, P. (2016) 'Phylogenetic origin of limes and lemons', in Annals of Botany, 117(4):565-83 GAÄD (2022) Pocket-Vademecum, Anthroposophische Arzneimittel und Äußere Anwendungen. Merkurstab: München Goethe, J.W. von (1796/ 1996) 'Mignon', in Wilhelm Meisters Lehrjahre. Goethes Werke, Band VII. Beck: München Gorter, R. and Peper, E. (2011) Fighting Cancer - a Non-Toxic Approach to Treatment. North Atlantic: Berkeley de Grimaud, J.C.M.G. (1791) Cours complet de fievres. Montpellier Herlitz, G. and Kirschner, B. (1927) Jüdisches Lexikon. Jüdischer Verlag: Berlin Hubbard, E. (1922) Selected Writings of Elbert Hubbard. Vol. v. Wise & Co.: New York Kucklick, C. (2017) 100 Triumphe der Medizin. GEO Chronik 1. Gruner & Jahr: Hamburg O'Connor, W. J. (1991) British Physiologists 1885-1914. Manchester University Press: Manchester Stäubli, H-B. (1929) Handwörterbuch des deutschen Aberglaubens. Walter de Gruyter: Berlin/Boston Zech-Matterne, V., Véronique, F., Girolamo, L., Coubray, S., and Luro, F. (2017) Archaeology and history of citrus fruit in the Mediterranean. Publications du Centre Jean Bérard. Available online, accessed 09.06.2022

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iv: Notes from the Brew Room

Frothy and fragrant Ann King

For the last couple of months, here in the Brew Room, we have been harnessing the vital and energetic harvests from this year's wonderfully long spring. Since the summer solstice, we have enjoyed a welcome pause to this feverpitched activity. This month is sometimes known as a lean period in horticultural circles.

It's a time to relax, enjoy the summer heat, and watch the fruits of spring labour literally forming in front of us. However, when we stop and begin to unwind after a particularly busy or stressful spell, sometimes the body reacts to the adrenaline imbalance by presenting us

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with illness. As ever, nature comes up trumps by offering us the glorious Filipendula ulmaria.

Its earthy, fragrant blooms rival Elderflower (Sambucus nigra) for scent, and the frothy creamy flowers will brighten most damp, shady spots for the rest of the summer.

Meadowsweet originally came from the genus Spirea, which gave Aspirin its name. The plant contains salicylate salts and vital mucilage components which protect the digestive tract whilst providing anti-inflammatory relief— a great example of how using the whole plant can be beneficial.

iv: Notes from the Brew Room We offer you two recipes to make the most of your Meadowsweet.

Culpeper (1653) claimed that Meadowsweet 'makes a merry heart', so we created the following infusion to keep fever at bay, calm systemic inflammation, and lift the spirits with its entrancing fragrance. It is particularly delicious served as a chilled brew on a warm summer afternoon.

As Meadowsweet is also used as an antacid, helping to blast conditions caused by excess acidity, such as arthritis, we combined it with Rosehip (Rosa canina) and Ginger (Zingiber officinale) to create a simple, sweetly fragrant salve for use on painful or inflamed joints.

Feverfree Infusion 1 handful Meadowsweet 1 handful Elderflowers 1 handful Bee Balm (Monarda fistula) to control the fever and fight infection Lemon (Citrus x limon) Put approximately one handful each of Meadowsweet, Bee Balm, and Elderflowers into a large teapot or cafetiere, and top up with freshly boiled water. Allow to sit for 5-10 minutes, then serve with a slice of Lemon.

Scent of Meadows Salve 10g beeswax (Cera alba) 12.5g Coconut oil (Cocos nucifera) 10g Shea butter (Vitellaria paradoxa) 50ml Sweet Almond oil (Prunus amygdalus dulcis) 35ml Rosehip oil 75ml Meadowsweet floral water 10 drops of Ginger essential oil To make the Meadowsweet floral water: Distillation is a wonderful and simple way to harness the beneficial fragrance and actions of a herb. The resulting liquid is infused with water soluble volatile oils and plant compounds. Use a saucepan with a domed lid that can rest upturned on the pot. Place a small bowl inside the pan leaving an area large enough to create a blossom moat. Add blossom around the bowl and top up with water, just short of the lip of the central bowl.

Put the lid upside down on the pan and heat

to a gentle simmer. Have some ice cubes ready to place on top of the lid— ideally in a small bag. Allow the steam to condense into the central bowl. Keep an eye on the water level of the herbal moat and add more ice to the lid whenever necessary.

When you're done, decant the fragrant floral water from the bowl into a sterilised bottle and allow to cool slightly ready for the next stage.

To make the salve: Melt the beeswax, Coconut oil and Shea butter together in a bain-marie or slow cooker, and then turn off the heat and allow to cool a little before mixing with a stick blender. For best results, the floral water and the melted oils should be a similar temperature. Then slowly add in the floral water and Ginger essential oil, and blend again. Pour into sterilised tins and keep in the fridge for up to six months. Apply liberally as required.

Images The Brew Room References Culpeper, N. (1653) Culpeper's Complete Herbal: consisting of a comprehensive description of nearly all herbs with their medicinal properties and directions for compounding the medicines extracted from them. Foulsham and Co.: Slough Disclaimer No recipes are intended to replace medical advice and the reader should seek the guidance of their doctor for all health matters.

The profiles and recipes are intended for information purposes only and have not been tested or evaluated. Ann King is not making any claims regarding their efficacy and the reader is responsible for ensuring that any replications or adaptations of the recipes that they produce are safe to use and comply with cosmetic regulations where applicable.

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iv: The Chemistry Column a VCE Chemistry teacher in Melbourne, has created a really useful infographic showing which esters contribute to different smells. He has very kindly allowed us to reproduce it here.

The chemistry of smells Claire Gormley

We have all experienced a moment when a particular scent evokes an emotion or a memory. For me, the combination of salty ocean air, fresh White Pine (Pinus strobus) and sweet Lupins (Lupinus perennis) transports me to my grandparents' house in Prince Edward Island, Canada. Whether it be spices in a dish we ate as a child, or the familiar blooms of home, at the core of each scent are esters.

Esters are chemical compounds made from the reaction between an alcohol and a carboxylic acid. For example, if butanol (an alcohol) and ethanoic acid (a carboxylic acid) are reacted together, butyl ethanoate (an ester) is produced.

Esters are found naturally in flowers, fruits, herbs, and spices— giving them their unique smells. Our earlier example, butyl ethanoate, is one of the esters that contributes to the aroma of Apples (Malus domestica) (EspinoDíaz et al., 2016). Different combinations of alcohols and carboxylic acids yield different scents. For example, methyl octanoate gives Coconuts (Cocos nucifera) their scent, and nonyl hexanoate gives dirt its unique smell (Kennedy, 2013). Some esters have an ambiguous odour that resembles a few familiar scents, such as pentyl 2-methyl propanoate which smells of both butter and Apricots (Prunus armeniaca). James Kennedy, 20

We learn the scents of Strawberries (Fragaria x ananassa), Cherries (Prunus avium), wood, etc., and use them to describe more complex aromas like wine, places, or even people.

Perfumes, soaps, candles, and food flavourings all utilise ester chemistry to recreate the familiar scents we love— such as 'Mum's homemade apple pie', which is likely a mixture of ethyl cinnamate and a few of the many Apple-associated esters. Sometimes these fragrances don't smell quite right, though. That's because sometimes the esters used in products are not the same as those found in nature. There are some exceptions.

Pentyl ethanoate, though it does not originate from Bananas (Musa spp.), can be used as banana flavouring because it has a similar structure to the ester that does occur naturally in Bananas, ethyl ethanoate (Ouelette and Rawn, 2014).

Re-creating the complex combinations of esters that make up our favourite smells is no easy feat, so when you find your memory provoked, cherish that blend of esters and, if possible, stock up!

Images Kennedy, J. (2013) Infographic: Table of Esters and their Smells. Reproduced with kind permission.

References Espino-Díaz, M., Sepúlveda, D. R., GonzálezAguilar, G. and Olivias, G. I. (2016) 'Biochemistry of Apple Aroma: A Review', in Food Technology and Biotechnology, 54(4): 375-397 Kennedy, J. (2013) Infographic: Table of Esters and their Smells. Also available from: jameskennedymonash.wordpress.com Ouelette, R. J., and Rawn, J. D. (2014) 'Carboxylic Acid Derivatives' in Organic Chemistry: Structure, Mechanism and Synthesis. Pp. 699-745

iv: The Chemistry Column

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Johanna Dollerson Pressed flower greeting card design

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v: The Climate Column

Judgement day Patrick Dunne

As I write, the US Supreme Court has just issued its ruling in the case of West Virginia vs EPA. It's worth your attention because this ruling might be the straw that breaks the climate's back (Aronoff, 2022).

The Court has determined against the Environmental Protection Agency, undermining its ability under the Clean Air Act to regulate emissions from power plants. In turn, this damages the ability of President Biden's administration to legislate for systemic change in the US energy system. It's a truly alarming ruling that benefits— yes, you guessed it —fossil fuel companies and big polluters.

Meanwhile, over in Western Australia, the State Government has recommended a fifty— yes, fifty —year extension to Australia's biggest fossil fuel polluting plant, run by Woodside Energy (Morton, 2022).

Here in the UK, an embattled Boris Johnson was being urged to drop any remaining promises from COP26— including green levies —in a desperate attempt to salvage his political career. The Conservative Party seems to be reverting to type, with a group of Net Zero Watch right-wing backbenchers determined to, as David Cameron put it, "ditch the green crap".

All this, as 125 million people suffered under heat warnings across the US last month. New South Wales flooded again, and on and on across the globe. Here, in Edinburgh, the drought is causing gardeners like me to check the skies daily and carry water across the city to sustain our green public spaces.

It's not going great, folks.

There are links between these climate change rulings, vested interests, majority opinion, and the rights of marginalised groups in our global society.

The courts, sponsored by

corporations and billionaires, are also attacking our rights to live and love. The US Supreme Court has thrown the question of abortion back to individual States, upending fifty years of reproductive rights and bodily autonomy. The same Court has ruled against the right of individual States to legislate against guns. Eroding the separation of state and church, the US legislature seems to be lurching towards a Christian Right ideology, at odds with majority opinion in the US, but in line with the values of an elite, white, ruling class. Writings by Justice Clarence Thomas suggest America should brace itself for further rulings on same sex marriage, rights to contraception, and gay sex.

Our challenge is to create an intersectional movement of justice, compassion, humility, and equality. As climate activists, we must defend our right to protest and use it to support bodily autonomy and abortion rights— both as a climate issue, but also as rights in and of themselves. We should fight for equal rights for our LGBTQ+ siblings just as fiercely as for displaced communities from Kiev to Kenya. Rights taken from one are taken from all, sooner or later.

Our future depends on solidarity with nurses and rail workers, oil workers and trans people, people seeking abortion and those seeking to challenge the government in the European Court of Human Rights. We need to band together to learn, live, and mobilise. We need to create a future that has justice at its core, a future fit to bequeath to the next generation.

References Aronoff, K. (2022) 'The US supreme court has declared war on the Earth's future', opinion article in The Guardian newspaper, 01.07.22 Morton, A. (2022) 'Western Australia EPA urges 50-year extension of country's most polluting gas project', article in The Guardian newspaper, 01.07.22 23

Johanna Dollerson Geranium and Geum

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vi: In Focus

Natural farming as a way of being Patrick M. Lydon and Suhee Kang

"It is not about the technique", Larry Korn tells me from across the room. We are in his office at his home in Oregon, and I am admiring the books lining the walls. There are titles by M. Kat Anderson, Bill Mollison, Wendell Berry, and of course, Masanobu Fukuoka. Larry gestures to the shelves, "The answer is not in the books. Not a one of them. It's not in the technique, it's in the view." Larry lived on Masanobu Fukuoka's natural farm in the 1970s and would later bring this Japanese farmer's ideas to the world through the translation of bestselling books like The One Straw Revolution. As Larry told me that day— and reminded me during later meetings in Berkeley, in Santa Cruz, and in Osaka — Fukuoka's natural farming may have helped make seed bombing, cover cropping, and non-tillage hip, but natural farming was never really about these things.

At its core, natural farming is a re-discovery of our human ability to develop deeply meaningful relationships with the Earth. In this way, natural farming shares common roots with many world religions, wisdom traditions, animistic cultures, and the ecological mindsets of indigenous peoples spanning many thousands of years and as many corners of this Earth. Even in my home state of California, Larry reminded me, there were around a hundred indigenous tribes who could be called natural farmers. They might not all have been throwing seed balls as Fukuoka did, but they had mastered an awareness and relationship with the environment, and they used it to grow food and dwell in a non-extractive relationship with that environment. Our modern society has largely written off such ways of living, and Masanobu Fukuoka— the man who brought natural farming into the world's lexicon —had something of a rough ride trying to re-ignite these ways of seeing.

In the 1930s, Fukuoka was a plant pathologist at the government agricultural disease research facility in Yokohama, Japan. He spent his days looking at nature through a microscope, dissecting it into pieces, categorizing and separating this part of nature from that. Fukuoka understood that science was incredibly useful for taking nature apart but, ultimately, he was more curious about how it all came together. Fukuoka saw this coming together as the true wisdom of nature. Whilst science might not be able to reveal this wisdom in its entirety, he reasoned, perhaps a personal practice of working together with nature could. These thoughts eventually led him to quit his job as a researcher, and to spend the rest of his life finding ways to reveal nature's wisdom.

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vi: In Focus

Fukuoka's first charge was as the caretaker of his father's Mandarin (Citrus reticulata) orchard. To let nature reveal its wisdom here, he decided to do nothing— to stop pruning, to stop caring for the trees. But the miraculous natural farm of Fukuoka's dreams did not appear. Instead, two hundred trees died. In fact, the experiment nearly wiped out his father's entire orchard. 'It was not natural farming; it was abandonment', wrote Fukuoka about the experience. In this was an important lesson, that natural farming was not just about walking away and letting nature do its thing. There must be another critical ingredient.

The persistent Fukuoka then spent several decades developing his own way of natural farming. In the end, he did tend a successful natural citrus orchard without pruning and with a wild vegetable garden in the understory. He also developed a practice for naturally farmed Rice (Oryza sativa) and winter grains. Along the way, he discovered the missing ingredient of his early failed experiments was to understand our life and the life in the field— plant, animal, fungal, mineral and all —as part of one and the same nature. There is no separation, no discrimination, no hierarchy. In other words, natural farming could not only be concerned with the cultivation of food, but must embrace the cultivation of an equitable relationship between ourselves and the rest of nature.

Ancient Taoist literature suggests that when one views the world in an egoless state of 'no mind', there is no separation between the individual and the totality of existence. Here, in this state of 'no mind', says Fukuoka, is where we can find the 'true form of nature'. In natural farming, then, the relationship that we seek with nature has less to do with our rational minds, and more to do with what lies beyond.

Ultimately, Fukuoka's quest for natural farming was not a mission to make farms more productive, or more lucrative, or better, but simply a way of expressing the truth that he saw in nature and, by relation, in himself. Yet, what may come across as a highly spiritual practice also happened to bring results that were both socially and ecologically beneficial.

Fukuoka farmed without modern technology. He used no tractors, no pesticides, no herbicides, and no chemical fertilisers. He purchased nothing from the agricultural industry— with the possible exception of a hoe and a sickle. What seems miraculous, even today, is that although Fukuoka rejected the agricultural 'wisdom' of his time, he consistently produced as much, or more, Rice per bushel as his neighbours, even though these neighbours had the so-called advantages of the latest machinery, 26

vi: In Focus fertilisers, seeds, and chemicals. All the nourishment for his crops came from the nature where his farm was located. The resiliency and yield of these crops have been well noted, but not all farms are Fukuoka's. Many farmers who have tried to copy his techniques have failed. Some contend that natural farming is not replicable. Or perhaps, that natural farming only works in one corner of Ehime prefecture on the Japanese island of Shikoku. There is both truth and falsehood in this statement. To understand why, I want to relate our own first encounters with natural farmers.

In the summer of 2011, Suhee and I set out on a four-year journey to produce a film about natural farming called Final Straw: Food, Earth, Happiness. For me, the first year in Japan and Korea was spent trying to pin down and describe what was going on. I had come from a career in design and technical writing in Silicon Valley, so it seemed clear to me that everything could be reduced to an easy-to-follow process. As a result, though my first meetings with natural farmers and their fields were miraculous, they were also absurd and confusing. I couldn't seem to hold to any collection of facts that would allow me to make rational sense of what they were doing on the farms. 'There must be a magic way a sickle is used,' I thought. Or, 'there should be a certain way to flick your wrist just right when distributing seed.' Or maybe, 'it must be about the timing, or the rains, the moon, or the 24-term calendar.' In those first years, my mistake was in looking at natural farming as a set of processes and techniques. Certainly, learning natural farming can require long years of practice. Certainly, there are techniques each individual develops in this practice. But, as Larry would later tell me in his office, natural farming was not in the technique, but in the awareness and the view.

The view that Fukuoka practised, is the view from inside nature. This contrasts with our more typical perspective, of ourselves as human spectators standing on the outside of nature. Natural farming, then, is a practice of mastering awareness, but not an awareness gained by simply observing the quantifiable, of measuring statistics. A natural farming awareness is one that comes by engaging in a relationship with nature to the point where we realise fully that we are nature. Quantifiable data, as we know it, does not really exist in this relationship. Nothing but this relationship is capable of truly teaching us natural farming. It took me years to realise that the skills from my technical writing career were not wholly useful here. Without the book of instructions, one can still figure out natural farming. Without a functional relationship with nature however, we are hopelessly lost. The real instruction manual is in the wild plants. It is in the soil. It is in the wind, and rain, and sun. The lessons are different every day, changing as surely as nature is always moving and changing. The prerequisite class is learning to pay attention to this nature in each moment, and realising this nature is you.

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vi: In Focus

figure out natural farming. Without a functional relationship with nature however, we are hopelessly lost.

The real instruction manual is in the wild plants. It is in the soil. It is in the wind, and rain, and sun. The lessons are different every day, changing as surely as nature is always moving and changing. The prerequisite class is learning to pay attention to this nature in each moment, and realising this nature is you.

Can we feed the world with natural farming? Would not the agricultural industry collapse? Maybe. But in a way, maybe it needs to. We might reverse the question: is our current, global, capitalist-run, environmentally exploitative way of producing food realistic? To this there is a simple answer: there is no way for any system of production to continue if it consistently takes more resources from the Earth than can be replaced. Today, both science and natural farming practice agree on this point. The way we currently grow food is absolutely unrealistic. No amount of technology or innovation can ever reconcile the biological fact that no farm can continue to feed the planet if it is based on extraction and pollution instead of regeneration of the Earth's habitats and resources. The proper question then becomes: how do we move towards more regenerative ways of farming and of living that enable all forms of life to thrive? Many researchers— not to mention many practising farmers —believe that the answer to this question lies in developing a cultural-ecological understanding akin to that of natural farming. Again, a huge part of this is a mindset, a way of approaching the world, of accepting that conditions and techniques will vary widely between different places and cultures. Traditional ecological knowledge and agroecological research have much cultural wisdom to offer us in terms of locally-aware sustainable farming.

There is no set of natural farming techniques which would be applicable to every person or every place, but there are a few principles that nature tends to reveal to us. The following four general principles recur in natural farming practices around the world: § There is no need to till the field § Bugs and weeds are not the enemies § There is no need for external inputs of any kind into your farm § Nature ultimately decides what grows, not you These basic principles are expanded upon by Kawaguchi Yoshikazu in our film (Final Straw: Food, Earth, Happiness), as well as in multiple publications by Fukuoka and Larry (see references and further reading given below). At the same time, however, these should not be understood as an authoritative set of natural farming rules. Indeed, for natural farming to be true, there can be no such thing. Larry often reminded us that the goal of natural farming was 'to become partners again with other forms of life.'

From this view, natural farming expands beyond the concept of growing food. It becomes a way of figuring out how to live a life that regenerates our own health, the health of society, and the health of the environment around us, no matter what we do for a living.

Natural farming understands that everything in nature has its own role. This means that the farmer must also get to know and perform their own part. This is what makes natural farming such an extremely personal, creative, and exciting endeavour for human beings. Every day worked with this mindset offers a chance to expand our relationship with this Earth, to develop our own unique voice, our skill, our craft as human beings, and to discover more about our role as part of this miraculous Earth. All of that, while simultaneously healing the planet and growing amazingly delicious food.

Yet even without a farm or garden, you can take the first steps towards a natural farming practice right now. You can start, as Fukuoka did, by simply going into nature— any little piece of nature. Start by practicing your awareness, building a relationship, and following what you find in the process.

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vi: In Focus Images Courtesy of P. Lydon and S. Kang References and further reading Altieri, M.A. (2004) 'Linking ecologists and traditional farmers in the search for sustainable agriculture', in Frontiers in Ecology and the Environment, 2:35-42 Anderson, M.K. (2013) Tending the Wild. University of California Press: Berkeley Fukuoka, M. (1975) The One Straw Revolution. NYBR Classics: New York Fukuoka, M. (1985) The Natural Way of Farming. Japan Publications: Tokyo Korn, L. (2015) One Straw Revolutionary. Chelsea Green: Hartford Kawaguchi, Y. (2016) Final Straw: Food, Earth, Happiness. Film. Directed by P. Lydon and S. Kang.

SocieCity: San Francisco Lydon, P.M. (2012) 'Masanobu Fukuoka and Natural Farming.' Interview with Larry Korn. Blog article on finalstraw.org Lydon, P.M. (2016) 'Farmers, Chefs, and Lawyers: Building an Ecology of One.' Blog article for The Nature of Cities Festival. Available at thenatureofcities.com

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Johanna Dollerson Freesia refracta 'Orange Nassau'

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vii: Sage Advice

Getting started with composting Callum Halstead

I have now been living in my new home for a few months, tending my plants and dreaming of what the garden might look like one day. At this early stage, very few of the choices about what I do next are my own. The elements are very much in control, and it would be foolish of me not to comply with nature's wishes. The garden is dictating where I should start, and what must be done in order to progress.

Firstly, I must water, water, and water again.

The blasting winds of the Fife coast strip moisture from my potted plants daily, often toppling them like skittles and scattering them across the lawn in the process. I had hoped to keep them potted for a bit longer, while I settle on a planting plan. However, it has become abundantly clear that the only way I can guarantee my plants' short-term survival is to get them into the ground, providing them with a larger rooting environment, good anchorage, and access to groundwater.

Over the past week or so, I've spent my evenings creating new flower beds to provide these plants with temporary homes. This is a physically demanding and time-consuming job. Having cut and lifted numerous strips of turf by hand, my flimsy wrists and elbows are

all but ready to give up on me. But seeing my progress is galvanising, and I know it will be worth it. Keeping a positive mental attitude has been key, not least because the 'soil' I'm exposing from beneath the lawn is bone-dry and completely impoverished; it looks more or less like moon dust. I can't say that I'm surprised, as grass roots are notoriously efficient at soaking up every last drop of water in the soil. To prevent much of this bare and parched earth from ending up somewhere out in the North Sea the next time the wind whips up, I need to incorporate some good organic matter to improve the soil's structure, lock in some moisture and, crucially, transform the bed into somewhere that my plants will enjoy living while I make decisions about their permanent homes. The urgency necessitates that I buy ready-made compost this time.

However, chances are that the soil will need to be improved throughout the garden— whatever I choose to do with it —so it looks like composting will be the next job on the list.

The sooner I can get started on that, the better.

There are numerous options available to gardeners making their own compost, ranging from simple compost bays— cobbled together for free using salvaged wood and 31

vii: Sage Advice pallets —to more high-tech options, such as the very effective Ridan® food composting units. It's important to choose a compost bin that can handle the volume of material you are likely to generate. In my experience, it can be useful to have two or three bins, so that one can be filled while the others are busy composting down or being emptied, but I appreciate that this may be excessive if your garden is on the smaller side. A single bin can still be hugely valuable in helping to manage your green waste and providing you with good quality compost.

I have opted for a low-cost option by constructing three open-topped bays out of a dozen pallets, in which I will employ a 'hot composting' method in rotation— filling, turning, and emptying each bay in turn.

However, the simplest and most straightforward method of composting is 'cold composting'. Here, compostable material is more or less just piled up and left to break down over a period of two to three years, without requiring you to monitor or turn the heap. This method is very low-maintenance, and the heaps require little in the way of labour to create. But a significant disadvantage is that perennials are likely to build up in the heap, unless you very carefully manage what material you are putting in. Cold compost heaps do not reach a temperature sufficient to kill off seeds, so this limits how the end product can be used. This kind of compost is good as a mulch or soil improver in the vegetable garden, where crops are generally grown in straight rows, making unwanted growths easy to spot and hoe off.

Hot composting, on the other hand, requires more attention. It needs to be turned at least once. The aim of the process is to encourage the heap to heat up and remain hot for an extended period of time. This is done by balancing the proportion of 'green' and 'brown' materials that are added, and by increasing oxygen availability in the heap through turning it at intervals. The target temperature range for a hot compost heap to reach and maintain is 40-70°C, with an optimum heat of around 55°C. This will be hot 32

enough to kill off unwanted perennials and seeds, but not so hot that all life within the heap perishes. A compost thermometer will help you keep a close eye on the level of activity within the heap as the material breaks down. Compost that is produced using a hot composing system is likely to be more even in quality, thanks to all the turning and mixing.

The number of unwanted seeds that have survived the heat should be fairly low, leaving you with a very versatile end product that can be used as a weed-suppressing and moistureretentive mulch, or as a general purpose compost for potting and soil improvement.

When building any heap, it's a good idea to be intentional about how you layer the material, ensuring a regular alternation between green and brown. The breakdown of green, high-nitrogen material is what builds heat and gets the composting going, and then the brown, high-carbon material provides the fuel that sustains the process.

The better layered the heap, the greater the likelihood of maintaining a constant high temperature— and the more efficient the composting process. As a general rule, aim to use around sixty per cent green material to forty per cent brown. During the winter months, there will be a great abundance of brown material and a general lack of green material. This shouldn't be too much of an issue, unless you have no green material at all.

The key is to ensure that you get a sufficient amount of moisture into the heap. It's also beneficial to chop the brown material down into smaller bits if adding a lot at once. The smaller the brown material is, the less green material you will need in the heap in order to balance it. During the summer, the opposite situation can occur: the majority of the material that ends up on the heap is green.

Overly green heaps can become very sludgy and do not create good quality compost, so it is worthwhile keeping aside a supply of brown material that can be added to the heap during the summer, to maintain a more appropriate balance.

As your heap grows, it's vital to try and ensure it remains evenly moist. Aim to incorporate

vii: Sage Advice water regularly as you build it, as it is very difficult to adequately and evenly moisten a heap once it has been built. Use water from a rainwater butt if possible— tap water will have been chlorinated to kill bacteria, and this will have an effect on the composting bacteria in the heap. Don't worry too much about this, though: the chlorine will dissipate quickly, and the bacteria will bounce back. The best method with tap water is to give the heap a good soaking every once in a while, and then leave it for a period so the bacteria can recover. Once your heap is half full, add a layer of fully rotted compost from a heap that you have recently emptied before adding more fresh material. This will have the effect of inoculating your new heap with the beneficial microorganisms that inhabited your last one, helping to hasten the composting process. To further speed things along, you can try to promote the build-up of heat in your heap— even in a cold composting system —by incorporating various materials that act as compost accelerators. These include fresh grass clippings, spent coffee grounds, and even urine if you are so inclined. If you live somewhere where you can get your hands on unprocessed sheep's wool straight from the farm, then I recommend you grab it with both hands. Wool is a very slow release nitrogen source, making it an extremely beneficial material to add between layers of brown material during the winter. Rather than bundling the wool straight into the heap, soak it in water before adding it in thin layers, as fleece needs to be fully saturated in order to compost well. As it breaks down, the wool can help the heap to reach temperatures of around 70°C. The outermost thirty centimetres or so of any compost heap is always likely to be a problem area, due to its exposure to bright light and drying winds. As it dries out, it can also end up acting like a thatched roof, preventing rainwater from getting in, which can then negatively affect what is going on deeper within the heap. The smaller your heap is, the larger its relative surface area will be, and the greater the impact of this dry outer layer. You can lessen the problem by using the hot

composting method, incorporating the dried outer layer back into the middle of the heap as the heap is turned. Once you are ready to deconstruct your heap and start using your freshly made compost, check if the outer layer still has some composting to do. If it does, then it's not a bad idea to use this material to form the base of your new heap. Another solution is to cover the top of the heap once you've finished building it, so as to better compost the difficult outer layer. However, this can reduce airflow within the heap, and it will also have a negative impact on its habitat value for local wildlife. The trade-off for a small increase in efficiency is, therefore, probably not worth it. Instead, you can cover the heap with living plants such as Gourds (Cucurbita spp.). To do this effectively, make a few holes in the top of the heap and fill them with old compost, then leave these planting pockets for a few weeks to settle into the heap before the young Gourds are planted. By covering the heap in living, green material, you protect it from the drying effects of sunlight and wind— and you get the benefit of a bonus harvest at the end of the season.

Compost heaps support a wide range of macro and microfauna and, as a result, tend to be the most biodiverse part of any garden.

They are often home to many species of worms, a surprising number of spider species, and usually millions of woodlice. They also provide valuable habitat for grass snakes and slow worms. Once your new heap is up and running, you will very quickly be able to see what you are supporting, while simultaneously providing yourself and your garden with a wonder product that is worth its weight in gold.

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Johanna Dollerson Harvest Moon

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viii: The The Climate Chemistry Column viii: Column

viii:viii: Foraging through Folklore Foraging through Folklore

Mortality, myth, and Meadowsweet Ella Leith

In the throes of battle, Cú Chulainn, the warrior-hero of Irish mythology, would go into a frenzy— his 'warp-spasm', or ríastrad. Friend and foe alike would flee in terror as he shook all over, sinews the size of a baby's head bulging all over his body: he sucked one eye so deep into his head that a wild crane couldn't probe it...out of the depths of his skull; the other eye fell out along his cheek...his cheek peeled back from his jaws until the gullet appeared, his lungs and his liver flapped in his mouth and throat, his lower jaw struck the upper a lionkilling blow, and fiery flakes large as a ram's fleece reached his mouth from his throat...[I]f a royal apple tree...were shaken above him...each [falling apple] would be spiked on a bristle of his hair as it stood up on his scalp with rage (The Táin, trans.

Kinsella, 1969:150–153).

The only thing that would calm him was to bathe in a cauldron of Meadowsweet (Filipendula ulmaria). For this reason, one of the herb's bynames is Cú Chulainn's Belt (Kenicer, 2020:42). Apparently, the soothing fragrance of this herb is a gift of the Irish summer goddess, Áine, who wore it in her

crown and gave it its sweet scent (Anon., 1918:159; Fitzgerald, 1880:190). Perhaps she also granted its powers to calm frenzies— and to create life. Meadowsweet was the main flower used by the Welsh magician Gwydion to fashion a wife for his nephew, Lleu, who had been cursed never to marry a human woman.

They named the flower-wife Blodeuwedd, or Flower-faced, and called her 'the loveliest and most beautiful girl anyone had seen' (The Mabinogion, trans. Gantz, 1976:111). When she opened her eyes, 'the sky on a summer's day was not bluer. She smiled, and the sunlight on a fresh, clear pond did not sparkle more' (Caldicott, 1992:57).

Some gnostic religions hold the belief that 'the flowers have their souls, perceptible in their perfume' (Drower, 1933:377). However, other folk beliefs claim that the scent is the soul of a trapped human. Writing to the Folklore journal in 1960, Chester noted 'an old tradition...[that] says that the souls of the dead dwell in flowers with heavy scents, and consequently such flowers are dangerous to the living' (Tongue et al., 1960:206).

Certainly, many flowers with strong fragrances are associated with death, funerals, and bad 35

viii: Foraging through Folklore luck.

The blossoms of Hawthorn (Crataegus monogyna) are a famous death omen when brought indoors. In Welsh border counties 'the same superstition is often applied to meadowsweet' (Tongue et al., 1960:205). White Lilac (Syringa vulgaris alba) carries the same stigma in the Midlands, where 'florists have been known to advise their customers against it, if they know that it is intended as a gift for someone who is ill, either at home or in hospital' (ibid.). Lilies (Lilium spp.) and Snowdrops (Galanthus spp.) have become so firmly associated with funerals and graveyards that many people are reluctant to have them in the house (ibid.).

Using flowers and herbs in funereal rites has a long history (Edwards, 2010), often attributed to their being 'symbols of resurrection and immortality' (Walter, 1996:106)— although it's as likely that their historical function 'was that of hiding the odour of decay' (ibid.). Other unlucky flowers include Bean blossom (Vicia spp.), which has, according to Chester, 'been associated with death since at least as far back as Roman times', and retained 'a bad reputation among miners, especially in the colliery districts of the north and the midlands...[as] accidents in the pit occur more frequently when they are in bloom than at any other time' (Tongue et al., 1960:205-6). In Scottish tradition, Foxgloves (Digitalis purpurea) should never be brought inside a house or onboard a ship. In Oxfordshire, the same was thought true of Poppies (Papaver spp.) (ibid.). Violets (Viola spp.), Primroses (Primula polyantha), and Snowdrops 'are unlucky to poultry or young stock if they are brought home in small quantities. Less than a dozen primroses in a bunch will cause the hens to lay or hatch only as many eggs as there are blossoms' (ibid.).

Why would plants that are so pleasant to look at and smell be considered so dangerous?

Perhaps it is their very attractiveness that is risky, with the power of their scent capable of hoodwinking you— or worse. Murray-Aynsley (1898:183) records a Lincolnshire belief that 'a man having possession of a flask containing a strong perfume can use it to obtain power over a girl'. The power of scent was thought 36

so hypnotic that it 'paralyses the will of the person breathing it...[and] when once the girl is under its influence she is helpless' (ibid.).

Young women were advised 'not to permit the near approach of one of the other sex with a bottle of eau de Cologne or of other scent lest she should inhale the vapour' (ibid.).

These roles are, perhaps, reversed in the story of Blodeuwedd, Lleu's flower-faced bride. Her head turned by a visiting lord, Gronw, Blodeuwedd contrives to get rid of her doting husband. But Lleu is notoriously difficult to kill: 'It will not be easy for anyone to strike me, since he would have to spend a year working on the spear, and no work may be done except when people are at Mass on Sundays...I cannot be killed indoors or out of doors, on horse or on foot' (Gantz, 1976:113).

Feigning concern that he'll forget the particulars, Blodeuwedd persuades her husband to tell her how he can be killed: 'I will tell you. Make a bath for me on a river bank, with a good snugly thatched roof over the tub; then bring a buck goat and put it alongside the tub. If I put one foot on the goat's back and the other on the edge of the tub, whoever struck me then would bring about my death.' 'Well, I thank God for that,' she said, 'for this can easily be avoided' (ibid.).

A year later, Blodeuwedd manages to set the scene exactly thus, and Lleu doesn't appear the slightest bit suspicious of his wife— even as he stands with one foot on a bathtub and one on a goat —until the moment he is hit by Gronw's Sunday-forged spear.

Perhaps the moral of this tale is that, if you can't find a human to marry, you're better off alone than with a spouse built of Meadowsweet.

viii: Foraging through Folklore References Anonymous. (1918) 'Sanctuaries and Fairies in West Ireland' in Folklore, 29:2, 159-160 Caldecott, M. (1992) Women in Celtic myth. Destiny Books: Rochester, Vt. Available at gutenberg.org Drower, E.S. (1933) 'White and Black Magic of the Mandaeans' in Folklore, 44:4, 368-378 Edwards, O. (2010) 'The Skeletons of Shanidar Cave', article in Smithsonian Magazine, 03.2020, www.smithsonianmag.com/arts-culture/ Fitzgerald, D. (1880) 'Popular Tales of Ireland' in Revue Celtique, 4, 171-316 Gantz, J. (trans.) (1976) The Mabinogion.

Penguin: Harmondsworth, NY. Available at archive.org Kenicer, G.J. (2020) Scottish Plant Lore: an illustrated flora. Royal Botanic Garden Edinburgh / Berlinn: Edinburgh Kinsella, T. (trans.) (1969) The Táin. Oxford University Press: Oxford. Available at gutenberg.org Murray-Aynsley, H.G.M. (1898) 'Correspondence' in Folklore, 9:2, 183-185 Tongue, R. L., Lake Barnett, H.A., Fey, G., Chester, P., Gardner, G.B., Jones, L., and Botley, C. (1960) 'Letters to the Editor' in Folklore, 71:3, 202-207 Walter, T. (1996) 'Funeral Flowers: A Response to Drury' in Folklore, 107:1-2, 106107

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viii: Botanica Fabula

Meadow phantoms Amanda Edmiston

Even before we reach the meadow, as we walk through the Sweet Chestnut trees (Castanea sativa) at the back of the castle, the scent of salicylates beckons. It has a faintly medicinal allure; part sweet notes, part antiseptic. As we reach the first dip down towards the river, the creamy clouds seem to blur the view of the bank, as if some ethereal creature were hiding behind them.

I step closer, brushing past the blooms, scattering petals as I seek to catch the thing, the creature, the being I think I've seen...but there's nothing there. The river ripples with the tremble of something silvery slipping away downstream. Eyes may be watching from the nearby wood, a young bullock grazes the Clover (Trifolium pratense) on the other side of the water, but there is no shimmering, regal figure.

My imagination has clearly been seduced by the Queen of the Meadows, flower-led into fantasising phantoms sitting on the shore. Or maybe I'm running a temperature? I check myself for fever, then add a few heads of the Meadowsweet (Filipendula ulmaria) to the flask of hot water I've brought on my walk.

As I sip, words shift places, the memory of a story whispers in my ear, the penny drops. I am in the presence of the Morrigan, a phantom queen, capable of transformation, a shapeshifter, one of the ethereal and rarely acknowledged feminine figures in Celtic mythology.

The story goes that the warrior Cú Chulainn was sent to Skye to learn the art of combat from the warrior maid, Sgathaich. In those days, it is said, only a man could teach a woman to fight and only a woman could teach a man. Cú Chulainn became enamoured with Sgathaich's daughter, Uathach, and the pair were betrothed. But his was a life of violence. He was a man of temper and, as a warrior, was frequently away at some battle or another. His heroic journeys, I sense, were littered with dubious encounters with women. I'm not sure his behaviour was admirable.

Certainly, the story I was told, many years ago, suggested he was not an entirely innocent man when, during a battle at a ford, he encountered the mighty Morrigan. The phantom queen had taken the form of a beautiful young woman and she offered to help him in the battle, if he gave her his love.

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me...all of this played havoc with my skin. Eczema bubbled, then started to peel in scales, lizardlike— but, as my student-clinic supervisor added tincture of Clover to my mix, it started to clear. I felt that I was shedding my skin and starting again.

viii: Botanica Fabula

Despite his reputation, he rebuffed Morrigan, claiming his heart belonged to Uathach. In response, she transformed into an eel, twisting round his ankles as he crossed the water. He reached down and wrenched her off, injuring her as he did so. But Morrigan was not to be so easily defeated. Shifting into the form of a huge, grey wolf, she terrified a herd of cattle, causing them to stampede at the warrior. Taking his slingshot, he hit her hard, wounding her badly in the leg. Finally, she became a white heifer, running at the front of the stampede, right towards Cú Chulainn. Taking a spear, he injured her one last time and she vanished, haar-like, into the river.

As the battle drew to an end, Cú Chulainn— weary, cut and bruised —made his way along the riverbank, praying that this would not be the night he met the Ban Sith washing his armour, predicting his death. Instead, he was startled to come across an old woman milking a deer. Her body was marked with familiar injuries— those he had inflicted on the eel, the wolf, and the heifer. Sore and thirsty, he stopped and asked her for a drink. With each cup she gave him, he blessed her. Each blessing saw her injuries heal as the words left his lips. By the third time, he realised who she was. She gave him Meadowsweet as a gift, a thank you. And, although some say he regretted healing her, he carried the herb on his belt from that day forth. As she had shown him, he relied on it to bathe in, to heal his wounds, to reduce his fevers, and to cool him when his temper flared. In gratitude, he gave the herb his name.

Now, as I sip the last of my tea, I feel sure it was the Morrigan I caught a glimpse of just now, on the riverbank. Giving a nod to the last of the mist that dissipates as the sun lifts a little higher in the early morning sky, I gather an armful of Meadowsweet and carry it home— to steep it in water, add honey, and turn it into a cordial fit for a queen.

This September, Amanda Edmiston will be delivering herbal storytelling workshops and creating a story feast with herbalist, forager, and chef Clare Holohan (West Highland Herbal) for the Scottish Wild Food Festival.

For details and bookings, see https://scottishwildfoodfestival.simplybook.it/v2/#book/count/1/

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viii: Red Squirrel Press presents...

Elizabeth Rimmer Queen of the Meadows Much I do not envy them — the cold houses, the meat-heavy banquets and bread like stone, haphazard medicine, and tolerance of fleas, mice, dogs under the table, and violent men drunk by bedtime. But meadowsweet, gathered in the summer and strewn among the rushes when floors were swept — this I love. The curds and cream handfuls of blossom, the flossy stamens, like flecks of ripening butter, and sunlight burning crimson in the stems against the hedgerow's deep green, its scent of honey, freshness in stale air, comfort in the aches of winter — this I would choose for my house. A herb for the merry of heart.

Elizabeth Rimmer (@haggardherbs, www.burnedthumb.com) is a poet, poetry editor for Red Squirrel Press and occasional translator. She has published four collections of poetry with Red Squirrel Press: Wherever We Live Now, in 2011; The Territory of Rain, in 2015; Haggards, in 2018; and The Well of the Moon, in 2021. She has also published a translation of the Anglo-Saxon Charm of Nine Herbs.

Red Squirrel Press is a self-funded independent press based in Scotland. It was founded in April 2006

by Sheila Wakefield and has published over 200 titles to date. www.redsquirrelpress.com Facebook: redsquirrelpress Twitter: @redsquirrelpress

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Johanna Dollerson Harvest, portrait of a wild walled garden

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ix: Book Club

Inflammation—The Source of Chronic Disease: How to Treat it with Herbs and Natural Healing (Herbert, C.: Aeon Books, 2022)

Reviewer: Marianne Hughes

This fascinating book highlights the prevalence of inflammation in the body and brain. Inflammation is understood here as the source of most of our experiences of illhealth— whether such experiences be transitory or chronic. However, there is a strong focus on chronic inflammation throughout, exploring why the initial healing process goes awry and what can be done to combat the body's over-reaction.

A biomedical scientist before becoming a medical herbalist, Christine Herbert has a wealth of physiological knowledge. This knowledge is useful for the reader who wishes to understand the exact mechanisms of inflammation in the body, yet is easily bypassed by the reader who is more interested in the use of herbs in specific remedies. In discussing herbs to counter inflammation, Herbert introduces the term 'inflammationmediating' in preference to 'antiinflammatory', explaining that the herbs are aiming to bring resolution rather than stopping what is, initially, a healing reaction.

The first few chapters cover the nature of inflammation, describing inflammatory processes in the body, the causes and risk factors for chronic inflammation, and the effects of inflammation. Specific chronic inflammatory diseases discussed include allergies, arthritis, cancer, cardiovascular disease, chronic fatigue, diabetes, inflammatory gut, lung, and skin diseases, and osteoporosis. Throughout, Herbert presents a positive picture of the many and variable factors that are controllable, and which can assist in tackling the inflammation underpinning these conditions. In these initial chapters, the use of case studies from Herbert's practice adds human interest, and 42

the real-life testimonies balance the complex biochemical and physiological details. These read as honest accounts, clearly stating what worked and when Herbert was unable to assess long-term impacts because the patients did not return. The studies illustrated various health issues, including rheumatoid arthritis, hyperactive thyroid gland, endometriosis, digestive problems, food intolerances, and upper respiratory tract inflammation. The case studies also offer diversity across age and gender but, sadly, not ethnicity. This would have been a useful addition.

As in her recent book on sleep, Herbert emphasises the holistic nature of both health problems and healing remedies. For example, to tackle inflammation requires a strong immune system, which requires a healthy gut,

ix: Book Club as this is the home of most of our immune cells. Hence, the latter chapters of the book focus on foods and other methods that can tackle inflammation, as well as the use of herbs.

In the ninth and final chapter, Herbert provides a Materia medica. This is impressively researched and referenced.

Herbert emphasises that each of the herbs has a range of properties and that she is focusing here on their specific actions in relation to different types of inflammation. This chapter is likely to be of particular use to medical herbalists.

The addition of evocative cartoons by Lara Starling and lovely plant drawings by Holly Gregson add interest and lightness to this interesting and useful book. The inclusion of an index is very useful too!

Readers of Herbology News can claim a discount on this book until 31 August, 2022. Quote code IN20 at checkout, www.aeonbooks.co.uk

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x: Contributors

Hazel Brady's background is in IT, but she has always loved plants and since retiring has expanded her knowledge, especially around herbs. She completed the Diploma in Herbology at RBGE under Catherine Conway-Payne. Retirement has also given her the opportunity to develop another of her interests— an artistic practice centred in drawing and painting.

Patrick Dunne is an Edinburgh-based community gardener. Since 2018 he has, with his partner Katie Smith, co-organised an International Fringe event staging readings of the 2018 IPCC 1.5 Degrees Global Warming report, made lots of flat sourdough bread and camped, marched and organised as an occasional environmental activist.

Amanda Edmiston was raised in stories; her mother is a professional storyteller, her dad was a toymaker, her grandfather a sculptor, her gran a repository of traditional remedies and folklore. After studying law, then herbal medicine, Amanda began to blend facts, folklore, traditional tales, history and herbal remedies into unique works. Based in rural Stirlingshire, you can follow her on Facebook, @HerbalStorytell, and find more of her works at www.botanicafabula.co.uk

Claire Gormley is a graduate of Moray House School of Education and teaches biology and chemistry in Edinburgh. She earned an undergraduate degree in Biotechnology from James Madison University in 2017, and a MSc in Science Communication and Public Engagement from the University of Edinburgh in 2019. Claire is passionate about building positive relationships between communities and Science through education and engagement.

Callum Halstead is Senior Gardener at Cambo Gardens. He studied BSc Horticulture with Plantsmanship at the Royal Botanic Garden Edinburgh and brings this knowledge to bear both professionally and in his own garden, where he also practices as a keen floral photographer. IG: @callum_halstead

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x: Contributors

Marianne Hughes began following her interest in complementary medicine after a career in Social Work Education and voluntary work in Fair Trade.

Starting with Reflexology and Reiki, she progressed into Herbal Medicine. The evening classes at the RBGE got her hooked and she completed the Certificate in Herbology and, more recently, the Diploma in Herbology. Her current joy is experimenting with herb-growing in her own garden, in a local park, and alongside other volunteers in the RBGE Physic Garden. marianne@commonfuture.co.uk

Suhee Kang is a Korean herbalist and artist. A former environmental book editor, her work today is inspired by natural farming and traditional ways of life in Asia and the Middle East. She tends a small herb garden, produces herbal tea blends, and holds workshops that connect us to nature through herbs. Suhee studied at Sungkyunkwan University (BA, journalism) and is certified by the Korean Herb Association. She lives in Daejeon, Korea. https://blog.naver.com/vertciel

Ann King has always dabbled in gardening in some shape or form and is now a horticultural therapist and graduate of the RBGE Herbology Diploma. She is passionate about facilitating nature re-connection and enabling its therapeutic benefits by creatively adapting knowledge and stories for organised group sessions: either outdoors, incorporating exercise; or sedentary, indoor, experiential workshops. You can follow her on IG: @annlovesherbs or at www.thymefornature.com

Dr. Ella Leith is an ethnologist and folklorist who studied in Scotland and now lives in Malta. She particularly loves folktales and the storytelling traditions of linguistic and cultural minorities. IG: @leithyface

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x: Contributors

Patrick M. Lydon is an ecological artist born in the Tamien lands. Influenced by nomadic studies with farmers, forests, and monks in Japan, Korea, and Scotland, his work explores how people and cities can grow together with nature. A graduate of San Jose State University (BA, design) and the University of Edinburgh (MFA, art, space, nature), he writes a weekly illustrated series called The Possible City. He lives in Daejeon, Korea. www.pmlydon.com

Maddy Mould works as an illustrator, designer and photographer, in Glasgow.

IG: @maddymould and maddymould.co.uk

Kyra Pollitt is a graduate of the Diploma in Herbology at the RBGE. When not editing Herbology News, she works as a translator, interpreter, writer and artist. She lives on the Isle of Harris, where she is busily planting and growing a garden. www.actsoftranslation.com and www.wilderorb.com

Dora Wagner is a graduate of the RBGE Diploma in Herbology, and a Didactician in Natural Science. She also works as a Naturopath for Psychotherapy, and as a Horticultural Therapist. She currently lectures in Medical Herbalism at the University of Witten/Herdecke, and is leading a project reconstructing the medicinal herb garden of an Anthroposophic Hospital in Germany. dora.wagner@t-online.de and www.plantadora.de

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Johanna Dollerson The artist harvesting Lavender

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x: Looking Backward

Thank you and goodbye!

As the outgoing team, we have loved creating this magazine for you over the last two years, and hope that you have enjoyed our pages.

We would like to acknowledge and thank our patrons, Senga Bate, Beth Lucas, Jo K. and Elizabeth Rimmer, for their regular support on Patreon.

Our farewell image is Sunrise in the Mountains, reproduced courtesy of Stephen M. Redpath.

Steve's beautiful paintings can be found at stephenmredpath.com, and you can follow him on Instagram: @smrpaintings

Thank you all for your readership and support.

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Whilst this iteration of Herbology News draws to a close, perhaps a new future opens...