The Gentle Issue

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i: Editorial

Try a little tenderness Ella Leith As the second year of the pandemic reached its end, I’ve got to admit that I felt pretty ragged. 2021 was hard work: the constant low-level anxiety; the uncertainty; the ubiquitous screens; the ever-updating and ever-miserable news cycle. We are all in need of respite. So, as 2022 dawns, Herbology News invites us to embrace gentleness— with each other, and with ourselves.

This is the theme that Dora Wagner explores (Anthroposophical Views), reminding us of the psychosomatic impact of stress and anger on the stomach and gut, and the spiritual need for patience, forbearance and gentleness. She invites us to ‘keep hope alive for a transformed world’— for hope, turn to The Climate Column for Patrick Dunne’s cautious optimism; for transformation, to Kyra Pollitt’s recommended manifesto from The Nation of Plants (Book Club). Treat your eyes to Artist of the Month Jenna McKechnie’s gentle palettes, and remember that, although it’s too early in the year to see it, the days are beginning to lengthen once more. Soon, soon.

But now is still the darkness and chill of January, and hibernation has never felt more attractive. These are the stone months, Amanda Edmiston tells us (Botanica Fabula): a time to hunker down with stories, songs, and a bowl of comforting soup— whether the beloved soups of your childhood (Nine Arches Press Presents...), or those produced from a simple stone (Foraging through Folklore). In the interests of hunkering down, Callum Halstead (Sage Advice) gives his tips for creating a winter garden you can enjoy through the window, and recommends this fallow time for cleaning your tools and taking stock.

Meanwhile, Joseph Nolan is making stock and other medicinal foods, including delicious ferments (Of Weeds and Weans). This is also the focus of Our Man in the Field’s interview, so join David Hughes on his tasty tour of the Edinburgh Fermentarium, then try your hand at Ann King’s Fresh Festive Ferment (Notes from the Brew Room). If your stomach is still struggling from the excesses of the holiday season, find relief with Marianne Hughes’ soothing Herb of the Month, Ground Ivy (Glechoma hederacea; Nepeta glechoma), or turn to The Chemistry Column for Claire Gormley’s explanation of the efficacy of another remedy for digestive distress, Peppermint oil (Mentha piperita).

Finally, an appeal. To start the year, what better resolution than to help renew Herbology News? This beautiful magazine is written, illustrated, designed, edited, and produced wholly by volunteers and without institutional support. We love making it because we want you to love reading it. We have learned and grown a lot in the past year, but our advertising and sales revenue does not yet cover our digital and print publishing costs. So, if you enjoy our pages, please consider helping us to stay in production, either by becoming a regular patron (patreon.com/herbologynews), by making a one-off donation (justgiving.com/crowdfunding/herbologynews), or even by sponsoring an entire issue. You’ll find all the information you need on p. 5.

Thank you for your support.

Honorary Executive Editorial team Artistic Director Illustration Finance and Distribution

Catherine Conway-Payne Kyra Pollitt, Ella Leith Maddy Mould 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 New Years Resolution Fundraiser

Ella Leith Maddy Mould

2 3 4 5

ii Artist of the Month

Jenna McKechnie

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iii Herb of the Month

Marianne Hughes, Hazel Brady

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iv Anthroposophical Views Of Weeds and Weans Notes from the Brew Room

Dora Wagner Joseph Nolan Ann King

13 17 20

v Our Man in the Field

David Hughes

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vi The Chemistry Column

Claire Gormley

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vii Sage Advice

Callum Halstead

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viii The Climate Column

Patrick Dunne

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ix Foraging through Folklore Botanica Fabula Nine Arches Press Presents...

Ella Leith Amanda Edmiston Jennifer Wong

38 42 45

x Book Club Kyra Pollitt reviews The Nation of Plants: A radical manifesto for humans

by S. Mancuso (Profile Books, 2021) xi Contributors Looking Forward

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49 52

Make it your New Year’s Resolution to Support Herbology News!

Our beautiful magazine is wholly run by volunteers and has no institutional support or regular income. We need to cover software licenses, our subscription to a publishing platform, the costs of printing (not cheap!), and delivering to our stockists each month.

It’s our ambition that Herbology News will one day be able to pay for itself, and we’ll be able to offer a print subscription for those who want it. Until then, we are relying on your support from each issue to the next. So… Please consider supporting Herbology News by becoming a patron www.patreon.com/herbologynews For as little as £3 a month, you can help keep Herbology News in production.

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For £150, you can:  Choose which issue to call your own  Choose the cover image from the Artist of the Month  Receive a full-page illustrated thank-you in the issue  Join the Editorial Team for a behind-the-scenes preview  Receive three printed copies of the issue Contact us: herbologynews@gmail.com

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Jenna McKechnie Cumbria

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ii: Artist of the Month

Jenna McKechnie www.joyjenstudio.com A mixed-media artist with a love of the natural world, Jenna McKechnie founded Joy Jen Studio in 2016— a design-led brand producing luxurious paper goods including cards, prints, notebooks and notepads, as well as original art. Working in layers of gouache, watercolour, ink, pencil and pastel, Jenna’s pieces are richly textured, blending evocative colour palettes with abstracted natural forms.

Based in Leeds but selling internationally, Jenna’s work has featured in Vanity Fair, and was selected as one of the Top Drawer trend predictions for 2021.

Jenna writes: From a very young age I’ve been deeply into art. Some of my earliest memories are of sitting with my artist granny in her kitchen and experimenting the hours away with different techniques she’d teach me. Although I drifted out of practice after leaving school, I continued to delve into creativity with photography, with a particular interest in the natural world and the magic of the details in plants and insects.

After years of immersing myself in photography, and developing a career in wedding photography, I became increasingly stressed with some aspects of that life. I found myself being pulled back into experimenting with art again, just as a peaceful escape, and I haven’t looked back since.

I’ve explored many different creative outlets and mediums over the years, but have settled into the joyful freedom of balancing several at once and not tying myself to any particular tool. I love to use a range of different materials in the pieces I create, letting the different textures and lines and shapes create more vivid impressions of the natural world around me.

I am drawn to abstract shapes and pretty colours, and also to the sense of freedom and boundless creativity and inspiration that being outdoors gives me. Recently, I’ve been spending more and more time outside with my art supplies. You can’t beat the magic of creating outdoors! Rather than recreating a scene perfectly, I prefer to create a piece that holds the feeling and atmosphere of the place— perhaps by picking out a little detail and making it bigger, like capturing the dancing of a bird across the sky with a lively line rather than a motionless dot.

I feel incredibly lucky to call this creative life my full-time job. Producing original pieces alongside paper goods featuring my designs is exciting work and a lovely industry to be part of. I feel I’m still just at the start of a lifetime spent trying to capture just a tiny bit of the magic of the natural world and how it can make us feel.

As well as original pieces, many of Jenna’s works are available as prints, notebooks and cards from the shop on her website. For insights into her creative process, sign up to her newsletter, or follow her work on Instagram: @joyjenstudio

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ii: Artist of the Month

Cover image Riva Watercolour Original sold, A4 and A3 prints available Images Cumbria Plein air sketchbook piece in acrylic markers, pencils and ink p.6 Bempton Cliffs, Yorkshire Gouache, acrylic marker and ink Original sold, A4 and A3 prints available Jan/Feb 2022 p.9 Allix Watercolour Original sold, A5, A4 and A3 prints available p.12 Gaisberg, Austria Plein air sketchbook pieces in pencil (left) and watercolour (right) p.22 Leopoldskroner Weiher, Austria Plein air sketchbook piece in soft pastel p.27 Otley Chevin, Yorkshire Gouache, acrylic marker, soft pastel and pencil £100 A4 and A3 prints available Jan/Feb 2022 p.30 Nova Watercolour Original sold, A4 and A3 prints available p.34 Swaledale, Yorkshire Gouache, acrylic marker and pencil Original sold, A4 and A3 prints available Jan/Feb 2022 p.37 The Artist en plein air, drizzly Cumbria p.46

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Jenna McKechnie Bempton Cliffs, Yorkshire

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iii: Herb of the Month

Ground Ivy (Glechoma hederacea; Nepeta glechoma) Marianne Hughes, with illustration by Hazel Brady In her book Wintering, Katherine May discusses forms of recovery after difficult times and the essential nature of rest. She observes that trees in winter may appear as skeletons: but look closely, and every tree is in bud…the tree is waiting. It has everything ready. It is, in fact, the life and soul of the wood. It’s just getting on with it quietly.

This quality of ‘getting on with it quietly’ seems to apply to Ground Ivy (Glechoma hederacea), too. I was unaware of this herb until I began looking for winter ground cover options for my garden. This evergreen plant provides excellent cover for those shaded areas under shrubs, trees, and hedges. Some describe it as ‘invasive’, but I prefer to see it as useful, unobtrusive, and a carbon sink during winter months. It also has both medicinal and culinary uses, providing welcome relief from winter ailments.

As early as 1640 John Parkinson (15671650)— Royal Herbalist and early luminary of the Society of Apothecaries —was describing an array of medicinal uses for Ground Ivy; from abdominal pain, sciatica, gout, ulcers, cancer, and cystitis, through to sore throats, eye, and ear ailments, particularly tinnitus (Bruton-Seal and Seal, 2014). Grieve (1931) cites Culpeper’s (1653) comments, echoing John Gerard’s (1545-1612), on the virtues of Ground Ivy, and they are worth repeating as they demonstrate the wide array of its medicinal applications: for all inward wounds, ulcerated lungs and other parts, either by itself or boiled with other like herbs; and being drank, in a short time it easeth all griping pains, windy and choleric humours in the stomach, spleen etc., and helps the yellow jaundice by opening the stoppings of the gall and liver, and melancholy by opening the stoppings of the spleen: the decoction of it in wine drank for some time together procureth ease in 10

sciatica or hip gout: as also the gout in the hands, knees or feet; if you put to the decoction some honey and a little burnt alum, it is excellent to gargle any sore mouth or throat, and to wash sores and ulcers; it speedily heals green wounds, being bruised and bound thereto.

In the 16th century Glechoma hederacea was important in brewing, its common name being ‘alehoof’ (‘hoof’ meaning herb). It improved the flavour and keeping qualities of the beer and rendered it clearer (Grieve, 1931).

Eventually, the use of Ground Ivy was superseded by Hops (Humulus lupulus). But our herb was also made into a cough medicine known as ‘gill tea’ (from the French guiller, to ferment), known to have a tonic effect on the bronchial, digestive, and urinary systems (Bown, 2008).

Hope (2015) outlines some of Ground Ivy’s key constituents: amino acids, flavonoids (e.g. rutin, known as Vitamin P— an antioxidant — and isoquercitrin), glycosides, saponin, tannins, terpineol, and rosmarinic acid. He suggests that the astringency of Ground Ivy is due to the rosmarinic acid and tannins, whilst the terpineol is known to be antiseptic, and the flavonoids offer anti-inflammatory actions— both would be wound healing. Patel and Patel (2019) suggest that rutin is ‘one of the best natural antioxidants in the known natural class’. The flavonoid isoquercitrin appears to inhibit a number of stages of inflammation, including granulation tissue formation in chronic arthritis (Pengelly, 2004)— the ‘gout’ referred to by Culpeper.

The importance of Ground Ivy has, perhaps, been overlooked in recent times. Its availability all the year round makes it useful for medicine and also in cooking— our ancestors probably added it to winter stews for Vitamin C.

iii: Herb of the Month

References Bown, D. (2008) Encyclopaedia of Herbs, Royal Horticultural Society, Dorling Kindersley: London 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, Foulsham and Co, Slough Grieve, M. (1931/1980) A Modern Herbal.

Penguin, London Hope, C. (2015) ‘Ground Ivy’ (www.permaculture.co.uk, accessed 28.10.21) May, K. (2021) Wintering: The power of rest and retreat difficult times. Random House: London Patel, K. and Patel, D.N. (2019) ‘The Beneficial Role of Rutin, A Naturally Occurring Flavonoid in Health Promotion and Disease Prevention: A Systematic Review and Update’, in Bioactive Food as Dietary Interventions for Arthritis and Related Inflammatory Diseases (Second Edition). Academic Press, Amsterdam: 457479 Pengelly, A. (2004) The Constituents of Medicinal Plants: An introduction to the chemistry and therapeutics of herbal medicine. CABI Publishing: Oxford

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Jenna McKechnie Allix

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iv: Anthroposophical Views

Gentle tummy love Dora Wagner Gentleness is a secret and life-giving power of transformation that is closely related to what the ancients called ‘potentiality’. Without it, there is no possibility for life to evolve towards that which it could become.

Anne Dufourmantelle

Stones gather at the waterline. Waves chafe them against each other. I hear it clearly. With each wave, myriads of stones rub together, groaning. I imagine standing here in millennia to come, witnessing water breaking rocks to sand. Steadily. Slowly. Gently. And I wonder if I, too, were meek, how would I know? And how could I allow my gentleness to become a source of my inner strength? Could I combine my words with a flower's tender scent? Could I, like the delicate, glittering drops on morning leaves, help to awaken life? As the soil nourishes the root, could the salt of the earth strengthen me?

In Ancient Roman cultures, meekness was a virtue— ‘mansuetudo’ in Latin, literally ‘tameness’. It was closely related to kindness— ‘clementia’ —to the qualities of being calm, humble, kind, tolerant, soft, and yet brave. Meekness contrasts with ‘malignitas’, ‘hardness of the heart’, when violence reigns, when injuries are caused, when everything is about fighting, brutality and selfishness. So, we could be meek, if we did not get swept up in impatience and anger, if we were tender and careful, if we avoided harshness in our affections. Gentleness in behaviour is thus linked to caution in dealing with others, and a kind of circumspection that seeks not to harm other beings. But meekness is not only a way of behaviour, it’s more a state of mind; a balanced, patient, gracious and benevolent awareness. The classical symbol of this virtue is the sheep, which gives wool and milk without resistance— the traditional sacrificial animal since at least the Old Testament.

We all know that our stomachs can quickly be brought out of balance by our souls. The human stomach has incredible abilities: it can

‘hold stones’, turn sour with anger, ferment poison and bile, but it can also conjure those ‘butterflies’ that transmit happiness and excitement. From an early age we learn the wisdom of our stomachs: Bad news must be ‘digested’, it ‘hits us in the gut’, or ‘lies heavy on’ it. Events can make us feel sick, can spoil our appetite, or even make us want to throw up. These expressions tell us about the interplay between our psyches and our bodies, which in Greek is called ‘soma’. This is psychosomatics.

There's a strong connection between the brain and the gut. Stress and intense emotions can trigger neurologic signals to the stomach, changing the motion of the intestines as well as the level of acid production. Often, calming the mind and the gut can be helpful in relieving tummy aches and allowing the bowel to function normally again. On the other hand, belly trouble can also bring down one’s mood and overall well-being. Isn’t it, therefore, important to listen more attentively to our gut feelings, to be merciful and charitable with our belly’s aches and pains? Lying in bed with a hot water bottle in your lap or drinking Chamomile tea might be kinder than carelessly combatting your ailments with medicines to get back on your feet as quickly as possible. There are many drugs intended to help us ‘fight against’ any kind of stomach pain, most bearing the prefix ‘anti’: antiemetics, antidiuretics, antiphlogistics, antidiabetics, antibiotics, antidepressants, anticonvulsants, antidiarrhoeal agents, antiparasitics, antifungals, antidiposants, and so many more. They often do more harm than good. By contrast, our herbal and floral heritage can gently give us exactly what we need to relieve an upset tummy or a troubled mind. We attribute corresponding properties 13

iv: Anthroposophical Views to medicinal plants: soothing, emollient, calming, relaxing, softening, or smoothing.

Many of today’s common anthroposophical remedies for emerged from Rudolf Steiner's imaginative-intuitive knowledge, but all bear the suffix ‘doron’, meaning ‘a gift for’ (Steiner, 1994). Among the twenty-four ‘dorons’, is the gastro-intestinal ‘gift for the stomach’, Digestodoron. It is indicated for ‘disturbances of the digestive rhythm from heartburn to constipation’ and consists of extracts of three species each of Ferns and Willow leaves.

Ferns are characterised by strong vitality are among the oldest of plants, originating in the Palaeozoic era, almost 200 million years before flowering plants emerged. During evolution, the plants phylogenetically completed the step from aquatic to terrestrial life. In water, plants live in near weightlessness, exposed to the effects of the watery element and the strongly attenuated light. On land, Ferns came under the influence of gravity, air, and stronger light. Exposed to this light, Ferns formed root, shoot and leaf, creating a left- and right-symmetrical leaf shape around a central axis. This ability to structure in opposite directions is seen as fundamental to its healing powers. Ferns also contain various active substances, some of which are not found in any other herb. Their reproduction used to be considered a great mystery, as no flowers nor seeds or seedlings were found, so Ferns were a must in every witch's kitchen.

The remedy comprises extracts from leaves of the Common Spotted Fern (Common Polypody, Polypodium vulgare), Hart’s Tongue (Asplenium scolopendrium) and Dryopteris filix-mas, the Male Fern (Sommer & Soldner, 1990). The Common Spotted Fern is widespread in Central Europe, found in the shade of walls, and in Oak or Birch forests. Its resins relieve cramps and contain substances that inhibit inflammation. The bitter substances found in the roots stimulate digestion, as they stimulate the production of bile. Thus, in herbal medicine, Common Polypody was recommended for liver and gallbladder diseases. So, Common Polypody, 14

and Male Fern— metabolically related in their active substances —have long been used in traditional treatments of digestive disorders.

Madaus (1938), for example, gives a prescription for ‘chronic constipation with liver disturbances’ containing twenty parts ‘Rhizoma Polypodii’ concentrate. Hart’s Tongue (Asplenium scolopendrium) is often found on damp stones, near city walls, and in old buildings, as well as on mossy trees and near dead wood. Hildegard von Bingen (1098-1179) notes Asplenium scolopendrium as a medicinal plant and, indeed, the tannins found in the rhizome and the fronds have an astringent effect, thus aiding wound healing as well as gastrointestinal problems.

Dioscorides (40-90AD) is said to have prescribed this Fern for diarrhoea.

In Germany, besides ‘Hirschzungenfarn’ (Hart’s Tongue) and ‘Engelsüß’ (Angel’s Sweet), ‘Wurmfarn’ (Worm Fern) was a popular folk medicinal plant, serving— as the name suggests —as a highly effective remedy against parasites in the gastrointestinal tract.

Unfortunately, the chemical in this Fern is not only effective against worms, but also causes nausea, liver, and nerve disorders in the human host. So, self-treatment requires extreme caution, and it is best to use only remedies from the pharmacy.

Our doron also contains extracts of Salix alba (White Willow), Salix viminalis (Basket Willow), and Salix purpurea (Purple Willow) which, like all Willow varieties, are dioecious. Beyond the wood of the Willow, which has always been used for weaving because of its elasticity and toughness, the bark is also important. It contains tannins, but also salicin— a compound of salicyl alcohol and glucose. Split into both components in the human intestine, salicylic acid is then formed in the liver.

Synthetic salicylic acid was made possible as early as the middle of the 19th Century, finally being combined with acetic acid to form acetylsalicylic acid by the pharmacist Felix Hofmann in 1897. To this day, the resulting Aspirin is the best-selling pharmaceutical substance in the world (Rinsema, 2012). Now, natural Willow bark extracts are experiencing

iv: Anthroposophical Views a revival as highly effective, easily tolerated alternatives, with fewer side-effects. Their anti-inflammatory, analgesic, antipyretic and antioxidant properties have been confirmed in numerous studies, which also demonstrate that the polyphenols contained in the total extract contribute decisively to their efficacy (Kreusgen, 2007). Willow bark extracts have been known since ancient times as painrelieving and anti-inflammatory natural remedies, but a clay tablet dating from approximately 700 BC seems to show that the Assyrians and Babylonians also used Willow leaves (Lagoni, 1999).

Willows embody the power of mediation between different realms. Trees are normally divided into a crown and a trunk, but Willows deny this contrast. Their branches contain a vitality that is elsewhere only found in roots.

Cuttings take root very quickly and grow easily. Willows favour the barren banks of streams and rivers— the boundary between the solid which makes the outer form possible, and the flowing water that fills this form with life. In the remedy, this dynamic is harnessed to mediate the transitory processes and to support the transformation of nutrients from the outer world to the inner world of the organism.

To prepare the remedy, the leaves of each Fern and Willow species, freshly harvested early in the morning and coarsely cut, are macerated separately in alcohol-water solutions. By using a pharmaceutical process known as ‘Digestio’, it is believed the healing properties of the botanicals are made accessible to the human organism. First, the

Fern leaves are mixed with the ethanol liquid in a hermetically sealed glass vessel then, after an initial temperature pulse of 50 °C, the mixture is kept at a constant 37 °C— the temperature of the human body —for several days. As only half of the glass vessel is immersed in a bain-marie, while the upper part is exposed to the cooler room temperature, a constantly changing rhythm develops between evaporation, condensation, and reflux. This is intended to transform the plant substances and adapt them to the rhythmic digestive processes of the human body. After filtration, the cooled Fern extract is mixed with a tincture made from the Willow leaves. In this unique combination, the components of the plant families— different in so many respects — optimally complement each other to provide a synergetic, beneficial effect on all kinds of digestive disorders. Thus, the remedy strives to be an herbal image of healthy human digestive activity, in which the polarities of breakdown and build-up, laxative and constipating effects, inhibiting and accelerating tendencies are brought into balance (Fintelmann, 2007). It is thought that harmonising the metabolic processes will encourage and stimulate the individual’s own internal processes, bringing a purification of their vital powers, making renewed clarity of perception and sensation possible.

Perhaps we can each only continuously ponder how to effect a habitus of gentleness, how to connect the polarities of the outer world and the inner world, how to transform the unfamiliar into the present and the own. In my opinion, we can only soften our inner

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iv: Anthroposophical Views being if we cultivate confident, caring, and loving relationships with ourselves and other beings. Without patience, forbearance and gentleness, life seems impossible. So, let us keep hope alive for a transformed and potential world.

Images Collages by Dora Wagner from own images, Piqsels, and Wikipedia Commons References Dufourmantelle, A. (2013) Puissance de la douceur, Collection Payot: Paris. Tr. Dora Wagner Fintelmann, V. (2007) ‘Intuitive MedizinAnthroposophische Medizin in Der Praxis’, (5) Aufl., Hippokrates: Stuttgart Keusgen, M. et al (2007) ‘Weidenrindenextrakt Vielstoffgemisch gegen Entzündungen und Schmerzen’, in Pharmazeutische Zeitung Ausgabe 08/2007 Lagoni, N. (1999) ‘Die Weidenrinde als pharmazeutischer Rohstoff - gestern und heute’, in Portal für Naturheilkunde 12 (99) Madaus, G. (1938) Lehrbuch der Biologischen Heilmittel. Bd. 1. Thieme Verlag: Leipzig Rinsema, T. (2012) One Hundred Years of Aspirin, Cambridge University Press: Cambridge Sommer, M. & Soldner, G. (1990) ‘Farne in Natur und Mensch’, in Der Merkurstab 43(5):289-296 Steiner, R. (1994) Anthroposophische Menschenerkenntnis und Medizin. GA 319. 3.

Aufl. Dornach

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v: Weeds v: Of Weeds and Weans iv: Of Of Weeds and and Weans Weans winning the argument, at least in early childhood. But, as far as I’m concerned, this does not extend to pretending to like those ghastly little hell cabbages that appear on holiday tables all over the UK; a person must have limits.

The turn of the year changes the mood. By the end of the month, spring’s harbingers— Galanthus nivalis (Snowdrops) —will begin to appear. Imbolc draws near. And, because January is December’s hangover, all is gastronomical piety and good intentions.

Naturally, this extends to our children. The festive period allows a degree of laxity with regard to sugar, junk food, processed and convenience foods, adherence to special diets, and other limits— but now, it’s time to rein it all back in. We reach instead for deeply nourishing, immune supporting, liver toning, detoxifying, and blood sugar regulating foods to put into our kids’ wee stomachs. It’s not just healthy food time, but medicinal food time.

Even if, despite your best efforts, consuming fresh vegetables is a struggle in your house, there are a few simple things you can do to make the food on your table as healthy as possible.

Buy organic as much as possible. Aside from the much lower levels of pesticide residue than in conventionally grown food, organics are typically higher in nutrients, and often taste a lot better. Compare a tin of conventional tomatoes with a tin of organic ones, and I think you will be surprised by the difference. I certainly was.

Offer a wide variety of whole foods to include the broadest possible spectrum of nutrients, vitamins and minerals for growing bodies.

Offer, and ideally consume, fermented foods every day. In addition to cultivating a healthy and diverse microbiome, fermented foods are a great source of Vitamin K, which aids in healthy bone growth, and B vitamins for a healthy nervous system.

Additionally, microbial activity renders the food both more digestible and more nutritious, as the friendly wee critters liberate nutrients and make them far easier to absorb. So even if you cook some of your fermented foods— like sour cucumber soup, sourdough bread, miso gravy, Weinkraut with apples —there will still be great benefit in eating them.

Add medicinal foods wherever you can, to improve immunity and resilience, and to provide the best possible materials for your child’s growth.

However, getting medicinal foods into them might seem a bit of a challenge, with children’s notorious aversion to vegetables being a particular stumbling block. I have no answers here; only that eating vegetables and healthy foods yourself is a good start, at least in front of the children. Acting like eating vegetables and other healthy foods is normal and enjoyable goes a long way towards

So what do I mean by medicinal foods? Well, for the most part food is fuel, both in the carbohydrate sense of providing energy to the body just as petrol does to your car, and in the nutrient sense of providing the raw materials for body processes, like calcium for bone production. Medicinal foods go a step or two further: they may be extraordinarily antioxidant, like Curcuma longa (Turmeric) or

Medicinal foods for a healthy New Year Joseph Nolan It’s Health Kick January, and immunity and optimising health are on our minds— for a change. It has also been a long, rocky December: anxious, sugar-coated, and weighed down with boxes of Quality Street.

Time now for healthy foods and the hope of new habits, and for preparing our kids for whatever 2022 is going to throw at them, and at us.

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iv: Of Weeds and Weans Vaccinium myrtillus (Blueberries); they may be supportive of the immune system, like medicinal mushrooms; they may vastly improve the function of a particular system or process, like Cinnamomum verum (Cinnamon) regulating blood glucose levels, and fermented foods improving digestion. As Hippocrates is thought to have said some 2500 years ago, ‘let your food be your medicine, and your medicine be your food.’

These things are both.

Soups and broths It is soup season. Clear aqueous extractions of herbs, vegetables, fungi, and (for the omnivorous) bones, are the essence of this; one might also simply call it a good stock. In Ashkenazi Jewish cooking, a rich chicken broth with Carrot, Onion, Parsnip, Leek and Celery is served for holiday meals, for wholesome lunches with matzah balls or noodles, and any time someone is sick or in need of a boost. This is wise. Long, slow cooking releases all the nutrients into the water in an easily absorbable and delicious form. You can use broth or stock as the base for other soups and sauces, and as the cooking liquid to produce flavoursome Rice, Potatoes, and Beans. With Long Covid all around us, it is also worth noting that these clear soups make excellent convalescent foods, and they store and freeze well— so, after the initial effort, they are very quick and easy to prepare.

Being vegetarian or vegan, though, can present a challenge where stock is concerned.

Bones and scraps— whether of red meat, poultry or fish —are usually the main ingredient. So what is a plant-powered person to do? Well, we have mushrooms, and we have seaweeds, and the two combined make an admirable alternative to animal-derived versions. Gone are the days when a constant kitchen fire made this sort of cooking a doddle, but slow cookers are here to save the day— and making broth is quite a nice activity to do with children. They can throw in a handful of this and that, help cut Carrots or Onions, and crush Garlic. When I make my stocks, I start with a selection of dried 18

mushrooms, inexpensively purchased from my local Chinese supermarket, including Shitake, Black Fungus, Maitake if I can find it, Cordyceps, and Agrocybe, plus some Porcini if I have them. Foraged mushrooms will end up in there too, including Trametes versicolor (Turkey Tail), Auricularia auricula-judae (Wood Ear, whose former antisemitic moniker unfortunately persists in the Latin), and Ganoderma applanatum (Artist’s Bracket).

Seaweeds like kelps or kombu, Chondrus crispus (Irish Moss), Wakame (Undaria pinnatifida), and the lichen Cetraria islandica (Icelandic Moss), all add important nutrients to the brew. Dried fruits, like Lycium barbarum (Goji berries), Crataegus ssp. (Hawthorn berries), and Sambucus nigra (Elderberries) will also end up in the pot. Vegetables add flavour and nutrients; I tend to stick to my Grandmother’s aforementioned basics, although I sometimes add Allium sativum (Garlic) and whatever else I have lying about.

You can add dried Urtica dioica (Nettles) for nutrients, and herbs that improve digestion like Piper nigrum (Black Pepper), Salvia officinalis (Sage), Thymus vulgaris (Thyme), and Rosmarinus officinalis (Rosemary). I find it best to under-add rather than over-add, because you can always add flavour later, but trying to dilute a murky, black, mud-tasting broth is a fool’s errand. Cook it for a long time— eight hours or more —to get everything out of your material. Then strain and use as you wish. I find it keeps at least five days in the fridge.

An easy lunch, if your little one likes it, is miso soup made with this kind of turbocharged stock. I serve it in a small cup as an accompaniment to a plate of other things; it makes a great medicinal boost to a winter diet.

Fermented foods British diets are woefully deficient in these wonderfully healthy, delicious, piquant foods, and the strong flavours and pungent aromas can put some parents off. While Olives are usually a hard sell to children, pickled Cucumbers, sauerkraut, yogurt, kefir and kombucha generally go down well if presented in small portions and without a fuss.

iv: Of Weeds and Weans Fermentation is a traditional method of preserving, and is essential for producing many of our favourite things— including bread (although modern food chemistry has largely rendered yeast irrelevant in massmarket bread production), cheese, alcohol, and soy sauce. Live fermented foods, like yogurt and kombucha, contain a wide range of beneficial micro-organisms, known by the catchy title ‘probiotics’. Nutrients that encourage probiotic growth in the gut are called prebiotics, and are as important to help the microbes stick around. Fermented foods, even after cooking, are pre-biotic, and fibrerich foods also help keep the bitty bacteria happy.

There is a staggering number of conditions for which probiotics have been found helpful in laboratory studies (e.g. IBS and IBD, allergies, low immunity, UTIs, hypertension, high cholesterol, anxiety, depression, kidney stones, some cancers), and conventional wisdom the world over credits them with granting a long and healthy life. Especially in winter, when fresh foods are a little harder to come by and most things are cooked, I make it a point to serve fermented foods every day— whether as homemade sauerkraut, miso in dressing and spreads, a little kombucha, yogurt, or a zesty condiment.

Superfoods Then there are the so-called ‘superfoods’.

Essentially, a superfood is anything containing high levels of nutrients: minerals, vitamins, healthy fats, and antioxidants. Ferments and broths might fall into this category, but generally the rather nebulous marketing term is applied to things like Cacao (raw chocolate from Theobroma cacao), Spirulina (Arthrospira spp.), bee pollen, raw Honey, Green Tea (Camellia sinensis), Turmeric, Ginger (Zingiber officinale), Beetroot (Beta vulgaris) and so on. Most can be rather quietly slipped into a child’s diet, and we all know that Tomato sauces and pestos hide a multitude of nutrients. These kinds of super-nutritious foods are worth incorporating into your child’s food on a daily basis. Their wealth of essential vitamins and minerals makes them a really

valuable boost to health and vitality at this time of the year.

Because many superfoods have powerful pigments— Turmeric, Spirulina, Beetroot, Blueberry —using them to colour more workaday dishes can be fun. For Hallowe’en, a little black tahini stirred into hummus turns it a really unappealing grey, but makes for an entertaining ‘wet cement’ dip. I have also been known to tart up jarred pesto with some Spirulina, making it bright green and really inviting, with the dish’s big flavours conveniently masking Spirulina’s somewhat fishy taste. However, one of the better ways I have found to introduce these types of foods is in snacks and treats like this one: Superfood Bites Based on a recipe by Tipper Lewis for Neal’s Yard Remedies Ingredients 2 tbs. fruity superfood powder 1 tbs. Spirulina or green powder 4 tsps. Raw Cacao powder (regular unsweetened cocoa powder works fine too) 4 tbs. dried berries (Blueberries, Raspberries, Strawberries, Currants, Goji berries, etc.)

2 tbs. Maca powder (Lepidium meyenii), or Slippery Elm (Ulmus rubra), Baobab (Adansonia), or other nutritious pre-biotic powder 4 tbs. Chia seeds (Salvia hispanica) 15 Dates (Phoenix dactylifera) 200g ground Almonds (Prunus amygdalus) 4 tbs. unsweetened desiccated Coconut (Cocos nucifera) 1 tsp. Vanilla (V. sp.) essence 1 tsp. Rose (Rosa sp.) water (optional but highly recommended) Method 1. Roughly chop the dates.

2. Put all ingredients into a food processor and blend until smooth and sticky. Adjust texture with additional ground Almonds, Slippery Elm, or liquid.

3. Roll into balls of desired size and eat with relish.

Happy herbing!

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iv: Notes from the Brewroom

fighting unwelcome biliousness, gripey tummies and general discomfort. How wonderful, then, that Ground Ivy (Glechoma hederacea) has a history of clarification, both of blood and alcoholic beverages, and of easing all manner of belly ache.

Festive ferments Ann King Delving into old herbals and prescription books never fails to fascinate us, here at the Brew Room. Discovering old, loved recipes leads us in botanical directions we hadn’t anticipated and inspires us to continue creating new lotions and potions.

It’s January, and many of us will be recovering from the traditional, indulgent, festive delights of restaurants, pubs, and homes up and down the country, and will now be

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Keeping our gut flora healthy and bursting with beneficial enzymes is extra important at this time of year, and fermented foods are an ideal way to ensure this happens. So, it is with this very much in mind that we developed the following recipe. Ground Ivy has a bitter taste which complements the saltiness of the sauerkraut, and if you can find some Chickweed (Stellaria media) populating the gaps between your sleeping perennials, add some in too. Fennel (Foeniculum dulce) is added for its known carminative effects, and all these herbs will contribute to a general soothing of the festive tum. Please feel free to substitute your own vegetables and herbs into the mix.

iv: Notes from the Brewroom Fresh Festive Ferment You will need: Any green Cabbage. Keep an outer leaf to one side.

2 x medium Carrots One handful Brussels Sprouts Handful of both Ground Ivy leaves and Chickweed, if available 1tsp Cayenne Pepper or Chilli of choice 1tsp of freshly ground Fennel seed Freshly ground sea salt 1 x wide-mouthed Kilner jar, or similar Something to keep the vegetables submerged (a sterilised pebble, or a small Ziplock bag filled with water is perfect) Method Using a large knife, shred the Cabbage, Brussels Sprouts and Carrots into fairly thin strips, place in a large bowl and weigh.

Add 2% of the weight of vegetables in sea salt (to optimise the fermentation process).

Use your hands to massage the salt into the vegetables until the juices begin to flow freely.

Begin placing the vegetables into the jar, pressing down at regular intervals to release more juice and remove any air pockets Add any remaining juice from the bowl onto the top of the vegetables. The idea is to completely submerge the vegetables in juice.

Place the Cabbage leaf on top, gently tucking it down the sides.

Add the weight and then seal.

Leave your jar in a cool, dark place— at approximately 18ºC for 3 to 7 days, checking daily that the vegetables remain submerged.

Once bubbles begin to appear, the fermentation has begun, and the lid should be opened daily to allow gases to escape. The sauerkraut can be sampled during this time but as soon as it has the desired taste, place it into the fridge to stop the fermentation process continuing. Enjoy your festive ferment on its own or add it to your festive leftovers.

If you have any Ground Ivy left over, make an infusion by steeping a finely chopped tablespoonful for at least 10 mins. This can be imbibed to help persistent coughs or allowed to cool and used as an eyewash for tired, party eyes.

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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Jenna McKechnie Gaisberg, Austria

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v: Our Man in the Field

David Hughes meets Ruth Munro David Hughes The opportunity to visit a fermentarium does not present itself often. Even rarer, surely, to visit one that has scooped as many Taste Awards as the Edinburgh Fermentarium— six, since we’re counting.

It was as intriguing as you might imagine. The shelves were lined with glass jars, filled with all manner of delicately sliced vegetable, each maturing in its own carefully formulated and spiced brine. As the fridges hum in the background my host, proprietor Ruth Munro, takes time away from the busy Christmas preparations to guide me round the shelves, pop open a few jars, and give me the gossip on all things fermented…

Behind that radio is Kombucha Mustard. It’s mustard, obviously, but made with kombucha vinegar, as opposed to vinegar vinegar. It ferments for at least two months.

To the left of that, we've got the Christmas Pickle— a new line this season. That's Oranges, Lemons, Limes, and Christmas spices. That's at least a two-month ferment. It's based on our Indian-style Lemon and Lime Pickle, similar but with Christmas spices.

They’re both really long ferments.

Under that we've got Kimchi; three of our Cracking Kimchi, and then the paler one is a Christmas Kimchi, which has fresh Cranberries instead of Red Pepper, and Cinnamon sticks, so it tastes a bit like Fireballs.

The pink and red one below, that's the Braw Slaw; Beetroot, Apple, Ginger, Star Anise, Clove. I sometimes overlook it but remind myself how yummy it is when there is a bit left, and I take it home.

We’ve got Gingerkraut— that’s Ginger, more Ginger, Cabbage, fresh Turmeric. There's some Figs fermenting down there. They started as another Christmas special along, with the Christmaskraut, which is Cabbage, Nutmeg and Orange peel. I just can’t stop myself!

The inspirations for the recipes come from all over the place. The Kombucha Thieves’ Vinegar is an interesting one, it has a fascinating history. Ours is a modern version of a legendary Thieves’ Vinegar recipe, which is rumoured to have protected the grave robbers during the bubonic plague in France. Ours has Lavender, Sage, Ginger and Turmeric.

It’s important to experiment because in many of the recipe books the quantities are very vague— they’ll say, ‘a head of Cabbage’ and ‘a tablespoon of salt’, for example. Well, the head of Cabbage could be any size and the salt— is that fine, or big heavy chunks?

Rock salt or sea salt? So, experimentation isn’t without mishap. A product we recently developed with the Mac Kimchi blended into our Fermented Tomato Ketchup was gyukfjhggg 23

v: Our Man in the Field

selling quite happily for a couple of months before reports of exploding lids came in. We definitely have certain times definitely have certain times of the year when things are fizzier. Sometimes you open a lid, and nothing happens. Other times, you open a jar, and the bubbles will actually rise out of the jar. People get quite concerned when that happens, but it’s just proof that the contents are alive.

Struggling to break free from fervently indulging in samples of fermented vegetables (all of which are delicious, by the way), I eventually ask Ruth what the catalyst for all this was. What started her down the path to founding her own fermentarium? I nearly lose my mouthful of sauerkraut at the jaw-dropping response: A barefoot walk up Arthur’s Seat.

It was on this walk, which I’d been hesitantly dragged along to, where I got chatting to a lady called Faith. She happened to be running a short course in the basics of food fermentation at that time. I’d had this burgeoning intrigue in fermented foods and the conversation with her enthused me enough to go along and join her course.

We tried a variety of fermented foods, made kimchi, sauerkraut, and water kafir granules and we did a kombucha SCOBY and a sourdough starter. The sourdough starter was the only thing I didn't get on with. To this day, I can spend days preparing only to turn out loaves like little bricks capable of breaking teeth. Thankfully, I’m not the only one this rings true for. So, whilst sourdough fell by the wayside, all the other things stuck.

The day after the course, eating all this fermented food, I honestly felt absolutely amazing. Since then, I’ve been evangelical about it, and the idea for the Fermentarium began to grow organically after that.

Maybe four to six months into experimenting with the kimchi, my partner gifted me a series of life-coaching sessions for Christmas. That’s not the kind of thing I would usually be into but hey, since it was already bought and paid for, I couldn’t really refuse. So, I went along for the first session, just for a chat…

The second time I saw her, she was talking all this stuff about fermentation. I was, like “Wow! You've gone away and researched all this!” but she said, “No, I'm just repeating back to you what you said to me.” I couldn’t believe I had said all that, but it really helped me to organise my ideas. Every week, the discussion led to an order of works, or a task list and by the following week I’d done something that contributed to helping everything else fall into place; finding the first kitchen, getting in touch with the farmers’ markets...

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v: Our Man in the Field Looking back, I’m wondering how on earth I did all this. I guess it speaks for the value of life coaching, and shows that if you are passionate about something then a wee push in the right direction is all you might need to take an idea to the next level.

I’m still sampling the goods, so I’ll let Ruth continue: Aside from the countless health benefits which have been transformative on a personal level, there are so many amazing flavours that you can create through fermentation. We ferment everything for at least a month. You can taste the flavour developing over the weeks and by the time week five rolls around, it has become something much deeper.

I manage to squeeze another question between mouthfuls: Is there a point when it stops improving?

Some say so and some say not. It’s very subjective and quite a hot topic within the fermentation community. My friend Ted, who runs Kaffee Barbuto in Berlin, gave me a Kimchi that he’d been fermenting for a full year and wow! It was still crunchy and really pungent, but in the best way. He sells a lot of jars of fermented foods and makes kombucha with interesting ingredients; CBD, Chaga and other medicinal mushrooms.

We have great chats. I recommend checking them out.

It’s important to have these conversations because these techniques could do with being demystified. Starting out in fermentation can be overwhelming, and people need a bit of reassurance. Yes, it's the most ancient and safest form of food preservation there is but leaving Cabbages out on the counter for a month certainly seems counterintuitive to food hygiene rules! Many of the books on the subject make it sound very complicated.

While there is a complex science at play, the starting point is quite simply adding salt to vegetables and letting the microbes go to work.

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v: Our Man in the Field

I’m part of a fermentation group, that a friend of mine set up, with various people from all over the UK and America. At the moment, we’re mostly discussing a controversy within the kombucha industry. There are lots of ways to make and store kombucha. So, you’ll see it in the fridge as well as on the shelves. In the latter instance, what the manufacturer has done is to ferment it into kombucha vinegar so there's no sugar in it. Then they add sugar, sweeteners, fruit flavour and, after that, force-carbonate. These mass producers want a smooth face, lots of bubbles and a long shelf life, so they pasteurise— which kills off any beneficial microbes. Basically, you’re just drinking chemicals and sugar. There is a lot that consumers don't know. I think some supermarkets do sell live stuff, so— if you see it in the fridge, it's alive; not so if it's on the shelf. So many people don't realise.

With all our fermented products, as soon as they’re done, we test to make sure they’re safe, portion them into their jars or bottles, and then they go into the fridge.

I mean, basically, you can tell by the smell. If it smells a bit like farty vegetables, it's fine.

You can order online, find your local stockist, sign up for the newsletter and find out more about products, special events and fermentation workshops at edinburghfermentarium.co.uk.

You can even get home delivery— that’s if there’s anything left here once I’ve finished sampling.

I’m wondering if I could persuade Ruth to let me just try a taste of that one before I leave….

Images Courtesy of Edinburgh Fermentarium

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Jenna McKechnie Leopoldskroner Weiher, Austria

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vi: The Chemistry Column These side effects are less likely to occur if the Peppermint oil is released slowly in the body, which can be achieved by putting the oil in an enteric-coated capsule— an outer layer designed to resist breaking down in a highly acidic pH environment (like the stomach) but readily dissolves in a more alkali pH environment (like the small intestine) (Pharmapproach, 2021). With the potential to help so many under the right conditions, researchers are now investigating Peppermint oil as a potential treatment for irritable bowel syndrome (IBS) (Thompson et al, 2013).

Tea-time no more Claire Gormley Typically, in the weeks leading up to the New Year— and, often, for a few weeks after —I see a lot of messages about how things will be different and better now that the new year has come. This year, as we begin another year of the Covid-19 pandemic, I haven’t seen quite as much of this talk. People are unsure of what the year will bring, and living with this uncertainty for so long has come with a wealth of new health problems for many. Our mental health is at the top of this list and, while I understood the low feelings I had through lockdown, I wasn’t prepared to experience social anxiety when things started to return to normal, and the gastrointestinal issues that this would cause me.

In my desperation to see friends and family without experiencing discomfort, I began drinking Peppermint tea (Mentha piperita) to soothe my stomach, and found even more relief from Peppermint oil tablets. This remedy dates back to the Ancient Egyptians, who are thought to have used Peppermint leaves to aid digestion and alleviate an upset stomach (iberogast.co). The Ancient Greeks and Romans are also said to have used it to soothe the stomach (encyclopedia.com). However, Peppermint is not everyone’s cup of tea; some have reported heartburn, nausea, abdominal pain, and dry mouth as side effects to ingesting Peppermint oil (National Center for Complementary and Integrative Health).

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Mentha piperita is a naturally occurring hybrid of Mentha aquatica (Water Mint) and Mentha spicata (Spearmint). All three belong to the Lamiaceae family of flowering plants, and give off the minty aroma for which they’re named.

The main chemical compounds found in Peppermint oil are menthol (40.7%) and menthone (23.4%) (Schmidt et al, 2009).

Menthyl acetate, which is responsible for the minty aroma and flavor of the plant, is also found in smaller quantities (Schmidt et al, 2009). All three chemicals are organic compounds, meaning that they’re made up of carbon atoms bonded with other elements, such as hydrogen and oxygen.

Menthol is classified as an alcohol group because it contains a hydroxyl (oxygen bound to hydrogen: OH) group in its structure (Wade, 2018). Interestingly, menthol can exist in two forms that are mirror images of one another, just like a right hand and a left hand.

The mirrored structures— called enantiomers —are very similar but can have wildly different effects in the body. Some enantiomers may have one ‘hand’ that is highly effective at treating a disease or condition, while the other ‘hand’ is incredibly toxic (Smith, 2009). Luckily, L-menthol’s mirror image, D-menthol, is simply less effective at creating the ‘cooling’ effect that L-menthol is used for in products like toothpaste, cooling ointments, deodorants, and so on (basf.com; Wade, 2018).

vi: The Chemistry Column Menthone and menthyl acetate are both derivatives of menthol. The three compounds have very similar structures with slight differences. In menthone, the OH group has been replaced with a carbonyl group, an oxygen double-bonded to the carbon (=O), making it a part of the ketone family of organic compounds. Whereas menthyl acetate has an acetyl group (see the diagram) bound to the structure. Together these compounds give Peppermint oil its antibacterial, antiinflammatory, antioxidant, and anti-fungal properties, all of which make it such a promising therapeutic (Rostamabadi, Falsafi and Jafari, 2019; Thompson et al, 2013).

Like many, I’m silently optimistic that this new year will bring more time spent with friends and family, and although I’m excited about the potential of Peppermint oil to treat IBS, I really hope this year brings less Peppermint tea!

Images Menthol, by Benjah-bmm27, 2006. Own work, Public Domain, commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Mentholskeletal.png Menthone, by Edgar181. Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Menthone.png Menthyl acetate, by Edgar181. Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Menthyl_acetat e.png

References BASF. ‘The cool freshness of menthol.’ basf.com/gb/en/media/science-around-

us/the-cool-freshness-of-menthol.html [Accessed: 10 December 2021] Encyclopedia.com.

‘Peppermint.’ encyclopedia.com/plants-andanimals/plants/plants/peppermint [Last updated: 18 May 2018] Iberogast.co. ‘Peppermint leaves (Menthae piperitae folium) – aromatic and medicinal.’ iberogast.co.za/power-of-nature/peppermint.

[Accessed: 10 December 2021] National Center for Complementary and Integrative Health.

‘Peppermint Oil.’ nccih.nih.gov/health/peppermint-oil [Last updated: October 2020] Pharmapproach (2021) ‘Enteric Coating: An Overview.’ pharmapproach.com/enteric-coating-2/ [Accessed: 10 December 2021] Rostamabadi, H., Falsafi, S.R., Jafari, S.M. (2019) ‘Nanostructures of starch for encapsulation of food ingredients’ in Jafari, S.M., Nanoencapsulation in the Food Industry. Elsevier Inc. 419-462.

Schmidt, E., Bail, S., Buchbauer, G., Stoilova, I., Atanasova, T., Stoyanova, A., Krastanov, A. and Jirovetz, L. (2009) Chemical composition, olfactory evaluation and antioxidant effects of essential oil from Mentha x piperita. National Product Communications, 4(8): 1107-12.

Smith, S.W. (2009) ‘Chiral Toxicology: It’s the Same Thing…Only Different’ in Toxicological Sciences, 110(1): 4-30.

Thompson, A., Meah, D., Ahmed, N., ConniffJenkins, R., Chileshe, E., Phillips, C.O., Claypole, T.C., Forman, D.W., and Row, P.E. (2013) ‘Comparison of the antibacterial activity of essential oils and extracts of medicinal and culinary herbs to investigate potential new treatments for irritable bowel syndrome’ in BMC Complementary Medicine and Therapies, 13:338.

Wade, L.G. (2018) ‘Menthol.’ britannica.com/science/menthol [Accessed: 10 December 2021]

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Jenna McKechnie Otley Chevin, Yorkshire

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vii: Sage Advice

The hibernating gardener Callum Halstead If your life is anything like mine, then you may feel that you barely see your own garden during the winter. If I was more organised, I could possibly sneak half an hour in the garden between sunrise and when I have to leave for work, but let’s be realistic— I’ve never been a morning person, and the odds of this occurring are incredibly slim. By the time I return home it’s already dark. At the weekend, when I may just about have time for a glance out of the back door, a glance is all I usually manage between the weekly food shop, the date with the in-laws, the trip to IKEA or, on occasion, a visit to another garden. On the rare occurrence that the stars align and a weekend remains plan-free, it is almost guaranteed to be raining so I find it’s best not to get my hopes up. For these reasons, I tend to write winter off as far as my garden is concerned— but this has prompted me to wonder how I could alter what I’m growing in order to get more out of it at this time of year, an exercise that other gardeners may also find useful.

From December to February, garden writers everywhere publish article after article about

creating winter gardens. I very nearly did this myself, before having second thoughts and completely re-writing this column. Many extol the virtues of planting brightly coloured Dogwoods (Cornus sp.) with their vibrant green, red, yellow or purple stems, amid mounds of heavily perfumed Sweet Box (Sarcococca spp.), punctuating the borders with Hellebores (Helleborus spp.) of every variety and under-planting all with Cyclamen (Cyclamen sp.), Winter Aconites (Eranthis sp.) and Snowdrops (Galanthus sp.). All of this should, of course, be topped off with a fine multi-stemmed Himalayan Birch (Betula utilis var. jacquemontii), the be-all and end-all of ‘winter-garden’ trees. I’m being overly simplistic here, and I should add that none of this is bad advice, despite how frequently it is repeated. These are all very beautiful and reliable plants that form the backbone of many winter gardens up and down the British Isles, including the one that I work in. If you do find that you have time to spend in your garden at this time of year, then these plants will certainly help to boost the winter interest.

For me, however, it just doesn’t make sense to pour a considerable amount of time and energy into creating a display that I will barely get the opportunity to enjoy. So, what do I want from my garden at this time of year? I’m certainly a big fan of seed-heads. Growing anything with good structure, that dies standing up and retains its shape even in death, can provide the garden with some striking winter architecture. Unless your garden has really taken a battering in the December storms, finding beauty in the faded remains of summer and autumn displays is by no means a challenge. If you’re on Instagram, searching for the rather humorous #lovelydeadcrap will give you an idea of the aesthetic: beauty in decay. You may have already had enough of this aesthetic come the end of autumn, but I encourage you to wait until we’ve had some really good frosts before taking the shears to it all. This approach to creating winter interest can be applied anywhere, but it will work particularly well in gardens located in colder regions, prone to frost and snow, where the plants will stand like 31

vii: Sage Advice ice sculptures. Use strong stemmed herbaceous perennials and grasses such as Angelica (Angelica sp.), Fennel (Foeniculum sp.), Sedum (Hylotelephium sp.), Sea Holly (Eryngium sp.), Alliums (Allium spp.) and Elephant Grass (Miscanthus sp.). One of my favourite grasses to use is Korean Feather Grass (Calamagrostis brachytricha). After finishing its stunning late season display, it holds its upright, vase-like habit well, and its airy plumes positively glisten when even a light frost settles.

When planting, consider that you will most likely be viewing the display through the window from the warmth and comfort of your home, and adjust your plant placement accordingly, ensuring that the most sculptural plants will be shown off to their best. Once planted, you can enjoy the colourful display during the growing season, before leaving it more or less to its own devices through the winter months, only tidying everything up in early spring. I like to dry seed-heads and incorporate them with more sculptural growth from the garden into seasonal wreaths and other decorations. Being able to bring plant material in from the garden to decorate the home is a real joy, especially during winter, and here you can be as bold and imaginative as you like, using the plants that you have grown to create unique and personal displays.

For the local wildlife that make their homes outside, leaving the garden to it through the winter will also be highly beneficial, providing insects, birds and perhaps some small mammals with both food and shelter, which can be in short supply in borders that are kept too tidy.

If the thought of this is too unruly for your taste, then winter scented plants are something that you might like to investigate instead. Even if you can’t stay and linger in the garden, a blast of beautiful scent as you dart to and from your door will delight your senses and can even boost your mood. I have already mentioned the winter garden staple Sweet Box (Sarcococca sp.), which is powerfully scented despite the size of its tiny flowers. Top of my list for scent is Daphne bholua 32

‘Jacqueline Postill’, a fine semi-evergreen shrub that has beautifully fragrant flowers from midwinter, continuing on into spring. If you live in a colder region, then Viburnum x bodnantense ‘Dawn’ would be an equally fragrant but slightly hardier option. These typically come into bloom in late autumn, producing clusters of light pink and white flowers in succession, right through until spring again. My last recommendation, Wintersweet (Chimonanthus praecox), is a bit of a wildcard, due to the fact that there’s not a lot about it to get excited about at other times of the year. However, it certainly lives up to its name, delivering a wonderfully intoxicating fragrance from sunshine-yellow flowers through the winter months. With each of these shrubs, scent levels will vary day to day depending on the weather conditions, particularly with the Viburnum; however, when you walk through a cloud of their sweet perfume, I can guarantee that you will want to stop and follow your nose.

Winter maintenance Gardens are ever-evolving things and plans can take a good few years to develop and take shape, but it’s good to have a destination in mind. While you are deciding what you might like to do, there are a few other jobs for January that you can tick off in the meantime.

If you fancy having a go at growing your own food for the table this year, you should definitely get your skates on and get your seeds ordered in the next few weeks if you haven’t already. The season for sowing many of our favourite fruit and vegetable seeds is fast approaching and it’s always best to buy your seeds in plenty of time and make a plan even if it’s just scribbled roughly on the back of an envelope. While it’s a bit early to sow most things, now is a very good time to plant Rhubarb (Rheum spp). The plants should be planted with their crowns just below the surface of the soil, with a good amount of wellrotted compost dug in to make them comfortable— and a bit of manure, too, if you can get it. If you are planting more than one, the plants should be spaced about a metre apart.

vii: Sage Advice As if you needed another excuse to sit down with a cup of tea and a seed catalogue (and what gardener doesn’t love that?), it is also a good time to start ordering flower seeds and dormant Dahlia tubers if cut flowers are more your thing.

Another useful task for a cold January evening that you will be glad that you did in the months to come, is to give your gardening tools a bit of annual maintenance. I find this to be quite an enjoyable, relaxing and meditative part of gardening anyway, and so it has become something that I do every month or so. I sense that I could be in the minority here, and one good clean up a year should be perfectly adequate for most gardeners. The one piece of maintenance kit that I could not do without is an abrasive cleaning block. These are brilliant for rejuvenating any corroded or gummed up metal tools, and I find them particularly useful for maintaining anything that has cutting blades. They can even help remove years of rust, given a bit of elbow grease, so if you have inherited any old tools from your parents or grandparents, or if you just like to collect beautiful old garden implements, then one of these could help you to breathe new life into them. You can achieve similar results using wire wool, but I find that the blocks are easier to use and create far less mess. I use a few different types including the Crean Mate from Niwaki® and the Garryflex™ (60 and 120 grit).

I have found that taking relatively simple tools like loppers, shears and some secateurs apart completely aids the removal of all the trapped grime and gunk from their mechanisms. Most of these tools tend to only have about five or six parts and are very easy to put back together; however, some fancy brands of secateurs can pose a bit more of a mental challenge due to a higher number of components. If you don’t trust yourself to be able to put the 3D puzzle back together again (and, having taken a few apart myself, I don’t blame you), then just leave them as they are and clean them as best you can as a single piece; they’ll still end up in better shape than they were before.

When cleaning your tools, first give them an initial wipe over with a damp cloth to remove the remains of any soil or sap, and allow them to air dry. You can then take them apart if you feel you need to, before going to town on the metal parts with your abrasive block or wire wool. Once you’ve removed all of the built up dirt from their surfaces, the next stage is sharpening— which can be a bit of an art form.

There are all sorts of videos online which explain exactly how to sharpen specific tools properly, so if you’re feeling unsure about your technique, YouTube will doubtless have the answer. For hand tools with cutting blades, I use a small Felco 903 sharpening stone, and for larger tools, such as spades and half-moons, I’ve lately started using a blade sharpener from Multi-Sharp® that fits on the end of a power drill and speeds up the job no end.

Once sharp, blades and other metal parts can be finished off with a thin coat of three-in-one oil or Camellia oil (C. oleifera), which will prevent them from rusting. Anything with a wooden handle will definitely appreciate a thin coat of boiled Linseed oil (Linum usitatissimum) and will look lovely once it’s finished. The oil will nourish the handle, helping to preserve it, although it can change the colour of the wood slightly. If you would prefer something a little lighter that doesn’t cause as much of a change in colour, then culinary Walnut oil (Juglans regia) can be used instead and will make the natural grain in the wood stand out beautifully. Pop your tools in a well-ventilated place, such as a garage or draughty shed, and leave the oils to cure. By the time you feel ready to tackle the garden again in spring, your newly rejuvenated tools will be a joy to use. ,

33

Jenna McKechnie Nova

34

viii: The Climate Column

Win, lose and draw Patrick Dunne It has been a very strange couple of months.

November began in rain and hope on the streets of Glasgow. 120,000 people marching, singing and making a good nuisance of themselves in an effort to draw attention to and action from world leaders and their meagre agreements at COP26. Make no mistake— as I said in my last column, the agreements from Glasgow do little to address the economic factors driving the extraction of fossil fuels and the destruction of the natural world. They do even less to address the gross inequities and injustices that are essential to our destructive global economic and energy systems. The agreements failed to make meaningful progress; in fact, they were shameful in their omissions regarding the losses and damaged finances of developing countries. It was, as expected, a disaster for global frontline communities and a talking shop, a festival of blah, blah, blah (as Greta termed it) for the rich countries to agree to business as usual, as usual.

But amid it all there was inspiration, community, leadership, joy, beauty and courage— just not in the Blue Zone.

Elsewhere, networks were built and friendships were made among activists from all over the world that will outlast governmental commitments worth less than the paper they were written on. The COP26 Coalition events were outstanding, and many groups gathered to put on brilliant workshops in genuine community spaces across the city, from animal lantern parades to teach-ins and everything else in between. All was not dark and grey, but much was sad as we saw fragile and limited opportunities disappear down the Clyde with the winter rains.

I was at the Stop Cambo event on Sunday the 7th November. Along with many others, I painted an oil barrel, cheered speeches and hoped against hope that my tiny contribution would join those of many others and create enough pressure somewhere to tease someone away from supporting the terrible

proposed Cambo oilfield. Well, bloody hell if it didn’t work! Was it my message to Shell, scrawled on the side of an oil barrel that tipped the scale? Probably not, but the scale was tipped regardless, and on 2nd December Shell pulled out of Cambo. As I write this, on the 10th December, the project has been put on hold (Mathers, 2021). I have never seen a policy put in place that has meaningfully restricted the profits or business of the fossil fuel industry— and this is certainly not that, I'm afraid —but I had also never seen a company like Shell take a step away from a big project such as this before. Shell said: the economic case for investment in the North Atlantic project was “not strong enough” (BBC News). We say: protest works, that people power creates change, and that the edifice of an outdated and terribly destructive industry is beginning to crack. Either way, their backpedalling is a real cause for celebration.

But it is not over. Shell has not fallen. In fact, the rotters have just been given permission to begin ‘seismic blasting’ in whale breeding grounds off the coast of South Africa (Wilkins, 2021). So we continue, and stand in solidarity with our friends in South Africa against that project.

Now the British Government is passing laws that will restrict and criminalise protests and threaten the very democratic rights that we are fortunate to be able to wield in the face of corrupt politicians and ecological criminals such as Shell (Monbiot, 2021). The Home Secretary has launched a barrage of laws to outlaw the sort of mass protests that have so energised environmental activist communities, and that have produced XR, Fridays for Future and Black Lives Matter.

These laws will limit and attack the same sorts of protests and resultant movements that we have seen rise up against institutional racism and misogyny. Hopefully, people will not be too deterred, and further protests will erupt in support of migrants, refugees and those stripped of their citizenship as a result of the Home Secretary’s other sweeping new 35

viii: The Climate Column legislation on immigration and borders (Dunt, 2021).

Mass protests are annoying and disruptive.

They also work. If they didn’t, the government wouldn't be making them illegal.

References BBC News. ‘Shell pulls out of Cambo oil field development.’

2nd December 2021. bbc.co.uk/news Dunt, I. (2021) ‘Opinion: Priti Patel’s new powers in the Borders Bill will create a secondtier category of British citizenship’ in i, 7th December 2021. inews.co.uk/opinion Monbiot, G. (2021) ‘Opinion: As we turn away, Boris Johnson is grabbing more power.

Where is the opposition?’ in The Guardian, 8th December 2021. theguardian.com/commentisfree Mathers, M. (2021) ‘Cambo oilfield: Work on controversial site paused after Shell pulls out’ in The Independent, 10th December 2021. independent.co.uk/climate-change/news Wilkins, B. (2021) ‘'We Won't Stop Fighting,' Vow South African Activists After Judge OKs Shell Seismic Blasting at Sea Common Dreams’ in Common Dreams, 6th December 2021. commondreams.org/news

36

Jenna McKechnie Swaledale, Yorkshire

37

ix: Foraging through Folklore

Upset stomachs and stone soup Ella Leith During the Christmas season, one’s eyes tend to be bigger than one’s stomach, and, come January, many of us will be feeling the effects of a certain amount of overindulgence. Folk medicine offers remedies in the form of ‘yarb [herb] beers’— bitter and ‘as black as black treacle’, containing as many as twenty-four different stomach-settling herbs (Addy, 1901:411) —and other, more obscure solutions, such as using Hazel (Corylus sp.) twigs to bind the legs of a horse that has overeaten (Drury, 1985:243). I’m not sure this latter would yield good results when applied to humans but, then, we always have the option to blame our woes on the supernatural. If you’re suffering from disrupted sleep and bad dreams, don’t blame the rich food you ingested; it’s probably just one of the nocturnal horses— literally, night mares —that are known to trample on a sleeper’s stomach ‘so that he could not breathe or speak... [and] expected to choke’ (Griffis, 1918). Or perhaps it’s a female goblin jumping up and down on your belly. To banish the latter, you must steal her red hat and use it to lure her outside at dawn; once the sun rises, the stomachtrampler will turn to stone (Ibid).

Even if you did eat too much, it may have been the fairies that led you to it. In the Dutch fairy tale, The Boy Who Wanted More Cheese, young Klaas is described as having a stomach with no bottom— an affliction for which I have 38

great sympathy. One night, Klaas was woken by an enticing whisper: “There’s plenty of cheese. Come with us!” Who could resist?

Following the voice into the woods, he found: dozens of pretty creatures, hardly as large as dolls, but as lively as crickets...as full of light, as if lamps had wings. Hand in hand, they flitted and danced around the ring of grass...He felt himself pulled by their dainty fingers. One of them, the loveliest of all, whispered in his ear: “Come, you must dance with us.”

Then a dozen of the pretty creatures murmured in chorus: “Plenty of cheese here. Plenty of cheese here. Come, come!” (Griffis, 1918) Needless to say, dancing with the fairies is never a good plan. Once they had exhausted the child, the fairies brought him cheese after cheese and began to force feed him, until even the insatiable Klaas was full: His jaws were tired. His stomach seemed to be loaded with cannonballs. He gasped for breath. But the fairies would not let him stop, for Dutch fairies never get tired. Flying out of the sky— from the north, south, east and west —they came, bringing cheeses. These they dropped down around him, until the piles of the round masses threatened first to

ix: Foraging through Folklore enclose him as with a wall, and then to overtop him...At last, with a thick slice in one hand and a big hunk in the other, he could eat no more cheese...At this moment, while afraid that he would burst, Klaas saw the pile of cheeses, as big as a house, topple over. The heavy mass fell inwards upon him (ibid).

Luckily, at that moment, the sun rose and the fairies and mountain of cheese vanished, leaving Klaas wondering whether it had all been a dream.

The sensation of being over-full— of having a stomach full of cannon-balls —is echoed in the motif of actual stones being sewn into the stomachs of fairy tale villains, such as the wolf in The Seven Little Kids. In this story, the wolf impersonates the mother goat by chewing chalk to make his rasping voice more gentle, and by disguising his big black paws with flour. Having gained access to the goats’ house, he devours six of the seven kids, then lies down under a tree for a nap. The grieving mother goat and the youngest kid realise that the others are still alive in his belly. Cutting the sleeping wolf’s belly open with scissors, they replace the liberated kids with stones and sew him back up. When the wolf wakes up, thirsty and in pain, he cries out: ‘What rumbles and tumbles Against my poor bones?

I thought ‘twas six kids, But it feels like big stones.’ (Grimm, 1812) When he leans over the well to get some water, the stones overbalance him, and he tumbles to his death. A similar fate awaits the wolf who swallows Little Red Cap in the Grimms’ version of Little Red Riding Hood: the woodcutter snips open his belly and replaces Red Cap and her grandmother with stones, leaving the wolf to collapse and die when he tries to run away (ibid).

These stones are punitive, but others found in the stomach may be curative. Bezoar stones, also known as madstones, are ‘are aggregates of inedible or undigested material found in the...digestive tracts of both humans and

animals’ and were traditionally believed to have magical properties, specifically as an antidote to any poison (Eng and Kay, 2012:776). Similarly, Ancient Greek writers attributed particular powers to stones found in the stomach, gizzard or crop of various birds: the Alectorius, or Cock Stone, was held to be ‘the source of great athletic prowess, victory in battle, quenching thirst ... [and] especially useful for conquering fear in young boys’ (Duffin, 2012:182). Aspects of these beliefs continued into the Medieval and Early Modern periods (ibid), alongside another longstanding folk belief. ‘Bosom serpents’— not always snakes —were creatures that could ‘live within the human body, invariably damaging the host’s health’ (Ermacora et al, 2016:286). Drinking contaminated water can introduce a bosom serpent into your body, as can sleeping with your mouth open. In an eleventh-century miracle tale associated with St Dominic of Silos, while a Galician woman slept a snake ‘slithered down into her stomach, where it dwelt for nine months.

Hence whatever the woman ate, the serpent stole it all and she began to die of hunger’ (Grimuldus, in Ermacora et al, 2016:293). She is cured (sort of) on pilgrimage to the grave of St Dominic, where ‘as soon as she was deeply asleep, a large snake came out of her body, bursting through the flesh of her throat, and sprang out bloody onto the grass, leaving her half-dead’ (ibid). The parallels between bosom serpents and tapeworms are obvious, but hopefully there is a less traumatic cure for the latter.

Of interest to herbologists is the rich story tradition around what Ermacora (2020) calls ‘botanical bosom serpents’, ‘where a plant, or some vegetable element, is said to enter and/or grow in the human body’ (p.244). The earliest record may be from the fifth-century Roman chronicler, Julius Obsequens, who claimed that, in 97BCE, ‘spikes of wheat grew out of a woman’s nose, and she vomited kernels’. Much later, in the 1630s, it was reported that a boy who cut himself on a Blackthorn (Prunus spinosa) ended up with a small Blackthorn tree growing in his stomach.

This was surgically removed, but: 39

ix: Foraging through Folklore It was not possible, without risking the boy’s life, to cut all of its roots which were firmly attached inside. From the small hole left in his stomach, the boy kept expelling, day after day, large quantities of small blackthorn branches. Witnesses added that they subsequently saw branches covered with green leaves, fruits, and thorns attached to a trunk rooted in the boy’s body. (Ermacora, 2020:252) Throughout seventeenth-century Europe, there were copious reports of ‘oats, fruit seeds, peas, and plum pits which took root in the stomach or intestines of patients’ (Ermacora, 2020:250), and this belief continues to some extent to this day. In my childhood, we were warned that swallowing Apple pips (Malus domestica) or Cherry stones (Prunus avium) would cause a tree to grow inside us, and the motif features in innumerable modern and urban legends (Bennett and Smith, 2007). For the most part, these reports are just that: legends. However, and somewhat alarmingly, a medically corroborated case was reported in 2010 whereby an unwittingly inhaled Pea (Pisum sativum) had begun to sprout inside a Canadian man’s lung (BBC News).

‘Biologically speaking,’ Ermacora observes, ‘botanical seeds contain within themselves all of the nutrients needed to sprout. With the right temperature and moisture, photosynthesis is not necessary’ (2020:255256). Luckily, the process of digestion makes the survival of a seed in the stomach impossible. At least, I hope so.

I realise that all my examples of stomach-lore are a bit unsettling, when what’s needed at this time of year is cosiness and comfort. So I’ll leave you with an international folktale that, despite its name, is very easy to stomach: Stone Soup. In the version I was told as a child, a beggar comes to a castle on the night of the king’s feast and asks to warm himself by the fire. The stressed cook grudgingly lets him in, but warns him not to waste his time asking for food.

40

“No bother,” says the beggar. “I’ve no need of food. If I could just borrow a pot and some water, I can cook myself some Stone Soup.”

“Stone soup?” scoffs the cook. “I’ve never heard of such a thing!”

“Oh,” the beggar says. “It’s quite a delicacy.”

And he pulls a stone out of his pocket and places it reverently in the pot. As the water begins to bubble, he adds: “If I could just trouble you for a pinch of salt to bring out the flavour, that would be very kind.”

Still incredulous, the cook gives him the salt, and watches out of the corner of his eye as the beggar carefully stirs the water and takes the occasional sip, smacking his lips in appreciation.

“Good, is it?” he asks at last. The beggar nods.

“Oh yes. It’s just a shame I don’t have any carrots. They really complement the earthiness of the stone.”

“You can have the tops and tails of these carrots,” the cook offers. “And the ends of these turnips, too, if you like.”

“Oh, I don’t know about turnips,” the beggar says. “They may overpower the subtle stoniness. But I’ll give it a go...” A few minutes later, he turns back to the cook in delight.

“What a revelation! I’ll take a couple more turnips, if you’re offering. I wonder whether all root vegetables would work...”

“Add a couple of these potatoes and see,” says the cook, increasingly intrigued. “And I have some off-cuts of ham here— would they enhance it?”

As the evening progresses, more and more scraps from the cook’s table find their way into the pot. And, after the king’s feast is over, the beggar and the cook settle down for a big bowl of soup together. And they both agreed that Stone Soup was the best soup they’d ever had.

References Addy, S.O. (1901) ‘Garland Day at Castleton’ in Folklore, 12:4, 394-430 BBC News (2010). ‘Pea plant grows inside man’s lung.’

11 August 2010. bbc.co.uk/news/world-us-canada-10945050 [Accessed 08/12/21)

ix: Foraging through Folklore Bennett, G. & Smith, P. (2007) Urban Legends.

Greenwood Press: Westport Drury, S. (1985) ‘Herbal Remedies for Livestock in Seventeenth and Eighteenth Century England: Some Examples’ in Folklore, 96:2, 243-247 Duffin, C.J. (2012) ‘A Survey of Birds and Fabulous Stones’ in Folklore, 123:2, 179-197 Eng, K. & Kay, M. (2012) ‘Gastrointestinal Bezoars: History and Current Treatment Paradigms’ in Gastroenterol Hepatol (N Y), 8:11, 776–778 Ermacora, D. (2020) ‘Botanical Bosom Serpent Traditions’ in Folklore, 131:3, 244-267 Ermacora, D., Labanti, R. & Marcon, A. (2016) ‘Towards a Critical Anthology of Pre-Modern Bosom Serpent Folklore’ in Folklore, 127:3, 286-304 Griffis, W.E. (1918) Dutch Fairy Tales for Young Folks. Full text available at: gutenberg.org/ebooks/7871 Grimm, J. & W. (1812) Grimms’ Fairy Tales.

Full text available at: gutenberg.org/ebooks/2591 Newman, L.F. (1945) ‘Some Notes on Folk Medicine in the Eastern Counties’ in Folklore, 56:4, 349-360 Obsequiens, J. (c.400CE) On Prodigies. Full text available at: topostext.org/work/742 Other versions of Stone Soup can be found at: sites.pitt.edu/~dash/type1548.html

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ix: Botanica Fabula

The stone months Amanda Edminton January is upon us and, whether the earth is frozen rock-hard or the weather gentle and mild, nothing much grows. Trees’ gelid branches hang ominously across our paths, and our gardens are laid bare— stony and mineral-coloured rather than full of the rich greens that suggest nourishing meals and healing herbal tisanes.

A few years ago, as part of the initial creation of my A Kist in Thyme project, I was collecting reminiscences about the use of plants for food and medicine from older members of the community. It was during one of these sessions that a woman, then in her nineties and the widow of a rural vet, told me how January and February had often been referred to as ‘the stone months’ by the crofting community they had worked with. Nothing grew in the stone months. This wonderful informant talked about how folk had formerly relied on what they could preserve or dry at the end of summer, but that the boom after the Second World War had led many folk to see foraging as a signifier of poverty— indicating a lack of disposable income, erroneously assumed to be the result of an inability or reluctance to work hard, and of a certain lack of respectability. To be respectable, people took yet more steps away from more self-sufficient days, and craved the exotic and out of season— equating them with signs of success.

Out of this conversation came a story. It looks not only at traditional food production, at 42

connecting our diet to seasonal availability in our locality, but at the value of quiet, gentle, reflective times of the year, at our relationships with others, and at the importance of stories. So, as we embark on 2022, ‘Scotland's Year of Stories’, I'd like to share this story with you. In some ways, it expands on the story I shared last month in The Bare Issue, and follows the path taken by many stories as they look at how we cope with the hardest months of the year. Similar it may be, but I think you'll enjoy the twist...

There once lived a young man named Ail, kind-hearted and hardworking but with little to show for his efforts. His croft, though wellloved, was just a small rocky piece of land, mostly barren. However, despite his stomach often growling as he worked, he was always willing to lend a hand to others; despite the soil being nutrient-poor and stone-rich, he worked hard enough that it would yield a few Cabbages; and despite these Cabbages being small and misshapen and the only thing his land could produce, they were tasty enough— and he was always happy to share them with anyone who asked.

Ail managed to get by, mainly by going into the village and swapping a Cabbage here and there, or helping a neighbour with some heavy work. Those that knew him would give him a few Potatoes or a piece of bacon, an Onion or two, or a couple of eggs.

But eventually, in a cold, hard winter, a January came round in which he had only a handful of Cabbages left and no-one in the

ix: Botanica Fabula village had anything to spare. So Ail made a small fire, patiently boiled up a Cabbage soup, and hoped the spring would come soon.

He’d just poured his soup into a bowl, when he heard a quiet tap at the croft door.

Wondering who could be out on such a cold dark night, Ail opened the door to find an elderly woman stood with a thin shawl and bright questioning eyes.

‘Young man,’ she said, ‘I’m sorry to bother you this dark, cold night, but could you let me have a warm at your fire, for I am frozen and hungry and have a long way to travel.’

Ail ushered the woman in and, showing her to his seat by the fire, he put his meagre bowl of Cabbage soup into her hands, saying he would be delighted if she shared his meal.

The woman’s eyes twinkled, as she warmed her hands and ate her soup. Then, having nothing else to repay him with, she told him a tale of lands far away, basking in the warm summer sun.

The next morning when Ail awoke, the woman had gone— but he realised that, despite having given away his meal the night before, he felt well and his belly full, as if the story itself had fed him.

What’s more, when he went out into his garden, he found that next to his meagre Cabbage patch— and appearing to be sprouting already —were the Potato plants he’d given up on the week before. Maybe the barrow of compost his neighbour had gifted had finally done the trick, or maybe the nights had not been as cold as he’d thought, but it looked like somehow his hard work had paid off.

With a warm glow inside and a cold Cabbage under one arm, Ail set off to his neighbours’ house to see if he could swap it for an armful of straw to keep his new plants snug.

The year drew on, and March arrived— raging in like a lion, its gales still laden with the nip of the north wind, blowing branches from the trees. A warm fire blazed in the hearth, but spring was still nowhere in sight. There were only two Cabbages left, and the Potatoes were still very small. Once more, Ail settled in for the hungry few weeks ahead.

One night, as he built up his fire and listened to the storm howl, he heard once again a tap at the door. He was astonished to find the woman once more on the doorstep, her shawl a little more worn but looking a little better in herself. Smiling at the memory of her stories, Ail ushered her in towards his seat by the fire and shared the last of his food again. Smiling, she ate, and the colour returned to her cheeks. Then she started to tell poems— poems of length and beauty, poems of warm spring mornings, of flourishing gardens and meadows full of flowers. Ail fell asleep with pictures painted in his dreams.

In the morning, as before, he awoke feeling uplifted and full of life, but found the woman gone.

Venturing into his garden to see the damage wrought by the storm, he found the weather had finally lifted and a pale sun shone through dancing clouds. He cleared his garden and fetched some Carrot seeds, stored away after the last year’s failed growing attempts.

Surprisingly quickly, seedling appeared and, over the next weeks, thrived; the Carrots were doing better than he could have ever expected. By the end of April, he had a warm Carrot and Potato soup to enjoy of a night— and even enough Carrots to swap for flour from the miller to make a Crecy pie.

Ail was overjoyed when, one rainy April night as the showers became torrents, he heard the woman’s knock at his door. Now he had more than meagre soup to offer her as she took her place by the fire, and this time he noticed how well she looked and how she seemed to have greater ease in her movements. As she ate, she started to hum— a beautiful tune full of birdsong and summer warmth —but, once more, in the morning she was gone.

As May rolled in, warm and light, he successfully grew Spring Greens, dark and full of minerals. After her visit in June— and her stories of evening sunlight, of rebellious boys and disgruntled giants —he found Beans now grew aplenty in his garden. July brought songs, Celery and Lettuces; August brough poems, Onions and Plums; September brought tales of giant Turnips and Apples with hidden stars inside. Ail saw that the woman’s hair looked curiously red where before it had 43

ix: Botanica Fabula been white, and, in the morning’s warmth, he saw Apples growing on the barren tree by the door and found that root vegetables were starting to swell.

Each month, she visited just once; each time, he made her a meal; each meeting, she seemed bonnier and younger than he remembered— her eyes twinkling as she regaled him with tales and verse, songs and legends full of wonder. And each time his garden flourished a little more.

The year turned around, and January returned harsh and icy once more. Worse still, word came to the village that trouble was afoot in neighbouring lands. The villagers waited, fearful and cold, not knowing what to expect.

When armies finally marched in, they cleared each home of provisions. No one’s stores were safe.

Ail wept as he watched them take his carefully stored and preserved crops, spilling the seeds he had kept for next year, but he knew he could not stop them. Hard work would replace his stores; he just had to manage for a few more weeks. Now, he watched and waited— worried for the woman, listening for her footsteps, craving her lilting voice, her songs and her stories, to take his mind off his hunger, but ashamed that he had nothing to offer her.

When she finally came, he was building up a fire and singing a song he had learnt as a boy.

The tears rolled down his face as explained that he had nothing for her, only the warmth of his fire— and maybe he could sing her his song? As he looked at her face, he was struck by her beauty, how interesting and alive she looked. Smiling, she held out her hand and took her place by the fire.

A song from the heart can be a magical thing.

Now he was more than a year older, and she more than a year younger, their garden would grow and flourish. Needless to say, the woman was never cold and hungry again, and Ail was never short of a story or a warm arm in the cold nights.

Amanda's project The Kist in Thyme can be found here: www.botanicafabula.co.uk/the-kist-in-thyme

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ix: Nine Arches Press presents...

Jennifer Wong A personal history of soups You taught me soups. A lo for tong takes hours in the kitchen. Pig lung: best remedy for coughs. The swelling and collapsing of a massive pink sac filling the basin. Yellow cucumber and cowpea: nourishes the skin and clears the throat. Chinese courgette and lean pork: dissipates body heat.

My brother and I loved your tomato and fish soup. Your own childhood stemmed from the taste of egg flower broth your mother used to make.

Coming home: a bubbling clay pot, steam rising from the lid raised by wooden chopsticks. The juicy cartilage between the softened bones. The butcher in England hasn’t a clue if you ask for a soup bone. Say that again? The only one I can make nowadays is chicken and carrot, even without fresh lo gai. You said that every Chinese woman must know how to make soups to catch a good husband. Except that Alex has never cared because he is a European vegetarian! The hot and sour soup they have here, even in Royal China, is not half as good. It should have seven ingredients. You can’t call it hot and sour without wooden ear and pig’s blood. Not authentic enough. I remember the milky white perfection of golden carp soup in our family haunt, the Qilin Restaurant. You kept reminding me to make more soups for myself. To build up my immune system. And also for beauty. Last time I called you to say I cannot find the green carrots. They don’t grow here! Each year I think of going back because of the soup.

Jennifer Wong grew up in Hong Kong and is also the author of Goldfish (Chameleon Press, 2013). A recipient of the Hong Kong Young Artist Award (Literary Arts), and a PhD from Oxford Brookes, her work has appeared in various journals including The Rialto, Poetry London, Poetry Review, And Other Poems, Oxford Poetry, and Stand.

Nine Arches Press has over one hundred poetry publications, with titles shortlisted for the Forward Best First Collection, the TS Eliot Poetry Prize, the Ted Hughes Award, the Michael Murphy Prize, and the Polari Prize.

They also produce Under the Radar magazine, a year-round programme of workshops and events, and offer writer development and mentoring opportunities.

Letters Home 回家 is available from ninearchespress.com/publications/poetry-collections 45

Jenna McKechnie The Artist en plein air, drizzly Cumbria

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x: Book Club

The Nation of Plants: A radical manifesto for humans (Mancuso, S., Trans. G. Conti: Profile Books, 2021) Reviewer: Kyra Pollitt There’s a fine history of manifestos in art, and I’m a fan. So, to be gifted this ‘radical manifesto for humans’ was a real treat. I hadn’t heard of Mancuso, but I was clearly behind the curve. He’s a globally recognised expert on plant intelligence. It shows. Don’t let that put you off, though. His command of science is thorough, but his writing bounces along easily and even joyfully— reading whilst queuing for my Covid booster, I laughed out loud.

And speaking of the dreaded Covid-19, Mancuso goes up in my estimation for being one of few writers who clearly and boldly link the zoonotic pandemics of our times to climate disruption: The ever-higher numbers of viruses and microorganisms that are passing from other animals to people are one of the most direct consequences of the alteration of natural ecosystems.

Bravo!

The book centres around a ‘Bill of Rights’, presented by the ‘Nation of Plants’, consisting of eight Articles, each elucidated in its own chapter. Mancuso begins by positing the theory that humans (like other animals) organise their societies in ways that reflect their biology. Our bodies are centralised, hierarchical systems with discrete functions allocated to particular organs. This contrasts with the diffuse, horizontal organisations of plant biology and, consequently, the ‘mutual aid’ organisation of the Nation of Plants. To save the planet, Mancuso asks whether we might learn from plants and begin to do things differently.

Along the way, Mancuso dissects some misconceptions and debunks a number of deeply embedded shibboleths. We revisit and question Linnaeus’ descriptions of the three kingdoms, trophic chains, and Darwin’s ‘survival of the fittest’: the theory of evolution argues for the survival of the most adaptive, not of

the best, the strongest, the smartest, the biggest, or the most ruthless…

Since they are impossible to predict, Darwin never draws up a list of the characteristics that must be possessed by the most adaptive.

With the Nation of Plants firmly established as the template, Mancuso can turn the tables on misguided conservation (p.79), levels of human consumption, and issues of climate migration. Plants, Mancuso points out, do not consume resources in the same exploitative way, and migrate freely. In an epilogue ‘Address to the United Nations General Assembly by the Representative of the Nation of Plants’, Mancuso implores humanity to: Take inspiration from us, reason and organise yourselves as we do, and three billion more humans will become an enormous resource.

Because every individual is a resource, an opportunity, a potential contributor to the solution of our 47

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collective problems. Open up your communities.

Be co-operative.

Closed borders do not protect your wealth; they only make you poorer.

And which Herbology News reader would not rejoice at a book whose immediate solution to our climate emergency is that human spaces: should be totally covered with plants.

Not just in designated green spaces: parks, gardens, flowerbeds and so on, but rooftops, balconies, terraces, pavements, chimneys, traffic lights and crash barriers. There should be just one simple rule: wherever it is possible for a plant to live, there must be one. Unlike many of the alternative proposals, this measure would require only negligible costs, would improve people’s lives in a myriad of ways, and would have a great impact on the absorption of CO2. Let’s defend our forests and cover our cities with plants. The rest will not take long to follow.

Seeking Reviewers Are you reading something you would recommend to others?

We’re always interested in reviews of books to share with fellow herbal folk.

Please simply send us a review, or get in touch: herbologynews@gmail.com 48

xi: 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 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 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.

David Hughes is an organic gardener, fruit and veg enthusiast, plant nutritionist, terpine whisperer, seed collector, green librarian and half decent in the kitchen. Most often found disturbing the peace in the woods of East Lothian, or more occasionally wandering in unimproved pastures looking quizzically at things, David looks to explore people and their relationships with the plants that surround them by examining the esoteric sides of herbology through conversation, experience and silly wee stories.

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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 & 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 Ann King has always dabbled in gardening in some shape or form 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 Maddy Mould is an illustrator living in the Scottish Borders. Her work is influenced by the magic and history of the surrounding natural landscape. IG: @maddymould and maddymould.co.uk Joseph Nolan practices Herbal Medicine in Edinburgh and specialises in men’s health and paediatrics. He is a member of the Association of Foragers, and teaches classes and workshops related to herbal medicine making, wild plants, foraging, and natural health. You can find him on Facebook and Instagram @herbalmedicineman, and on his website: www.herbalmedicineman.com 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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xi: Looking Forward

02//2022: The Soft Issue If you’ve enjoyed these pages, make sure you catch our February issue, featuring:     

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Your favourite columnists Plus, Herb of the Month: Oats (Avena sativa) Plus, the textile art of Kate Tarling Plus, a focus on the nervous system Plus, poetry from Red Squirrel Press Presents...