ix: Botanica Fabula
Winter’s bony grasp Amanda Edmiston Winter is stealthily gaining control once more. In the garden where I'm sharing seed stories, one young, warm, soul is barefoot— and I remember that feeling of inner heat, a radiance that could not be stolen by seasonal variations of temperature nor dissolved by lack of clothing. I remember feeling I would never become one of those 'cold people', who felt icy fingers snatch at their bones, who could not brave the December air. No, I’d remain forever bare-limbed, scarf-free. To be honest, despite frozen fingertips and chilled toes, I'm still the person who seems to have a secret deal with the devil of thermodynamics, the one most likely to shed a coat on a winter walk or to wander round the house in January in a vest top and skirt because someone put another log on the fire. But Hades has now reached in and grasped my spine, whispered of my mortality, taught my bones, my joints to understand the cold. It is around this turn of the year when he would have been trying to tempt Persephone with the juicy seeds from that Pomegranate, trying to ensure she’d spend at least half her time in the dark underworld, trying to commit our mortal world to a seasonal change which even Demeter and Zeus could not prevent. Winter is here. Darkness has arrived. Persephone is trapped with Hades. The Cailleach is reminding us of her power as we reach for the last treasures from the woods to protect us. Treasures to fight off the seasonal spread of colds, to guard our homes as we close doors, light fires, bake, make comforting stews and soups, have candlelit celebrations, coorie in with friends and families. 42
Sustainable, fast growing Birch logs line the edges of our stove. According to Elizabeth Blackwell (1737), the smoke rising as they burn will protect us and bestow health benefits. Pinecones, their resinous smell deterring respiratory infections, begin to congregate along the mantelpiece, placed there by the children after every walk. And just because... well, just because we're Scottish… the last of the Rowan berries, looped on red thread, prevent errant witches and ill-tidings from flying in through the windows. Ours is not the only culture to use berries as beads for protection and that’s what got me thinking… The merest mention of this month’s herb, Wintergreen, immediately brings the taste of root beer to mind, conjuring the two months in my late teens spent in New Mexico studying First Nation Art and Culture at the University of Santa Fe. One of the teachers, from the Navajo nation, was showing us ‘ghost beads’, made from dried Juniper berries, said to protect the wearer from malevolent spirits and nightmares. There’s a thread that connects that Juniper with Scotland's herbal traditions; it was once the preferred plant for protective saining. As I research Wintergreen more, I begin to wonder if, alongside protecting from colds and ill health, it might also have been used as an amulet, a bead, an adornment with purpose. It's certainly aromatic and would make a lovely, fragrant bead… but I can find no record of such. But I suspect it will make a perfect accompaniment to the woodland
