The Active Issue

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i: Editorial

The rising sap Ella Leith Spring is in the air, and with warmer days and lighter evenings come renewed vim, vigour, and an appetite for activity. Herbology News certainly feels reinvigorated. Our editorial team has welcomed a new member, and we’re taking a fresh look at how we do things to see what we can improve behind the scenes. This appetite is reflected in our pages: Callum Halstead is getting his garden in order, offering Sage Advice on how to give your plants a spring boost, and Patrick Dunne (The Climate Column) is looking to the Nettle (Urtica dioica) as a spur to activism.

Nettle is Marianne Hughes’ Herb of the Month, and we are exploring its uses— medicinal, material, and magical. I’ve been learning that the potency of Nettles is enhanced when they are left ‘unspoken’ (Foraging through Folklore), and, in Amanda Edmiston’s story, it takes more than words to change the future— and to lift enchantments (Botanica Fabula). Marianne Hughes focuses in on the women (and men) executed as witches in Scotland (In Focus); meanwhile, Kyra Pollitt (Our Editor in the Field) finds liberation in WanderWomen’s programme of outdoor activities, and Claire Gormley explains the link between endorphins and time spent in the natural world (The Chemistry Column).

Dora Wagner (Anthroposophical Views) explores the centrality of muscles to the whole body system, and Sheila Masson’s photographs (Artist of the Month) capture dynamic movement and moments of sporting focus. The repercussions of these activities are echoed in our featured poem by Lewis Buxton (Nine Arches Press presents...).

So, despite the rising sap, take care not to overexert yourself this spring. If you do find yourself stiff and sore, head over to Notes from the Brew Room for Ann King’s soothing Nettle brews, or look to Rose Morley’s account of Nettle’s capacity to take the stiffness out of muscles and the sting out of strife (Flower Power).

While your aches and pains are easing, curl up with our Book Club, where Stuart Milligan reviews a new title on Irish indigenous medicine and Kyra Pollitt dreams of escaping to a storm-tossed island off the Finnish coast. Turn your face towards the sun and grasp the coming season with both hands.

Erratum: In February's Book Club we erroneously described Duncan Ross' new work as a 'pamphlet'. Our sincerest apologies to Duncan. The Passionate Grower's Guide to Herb Gardening is in fact an illustrated, 328 page book, covering 263 species. It is available from poyntzfieldherbs.co.uk

Honorary Executive Editorial team Illustration Finance and Distribution

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

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

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i: Contents

i Editorial Frontispiece Contents

Ella Leith Maddy Mould

2 3 4

ii Artist of the Month

Sheila Masson

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iii Herb of the Month

Marianne Hughes, Hazel Brady

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iv Anthroposophical Views Notes from the Brew Room Flower Power

Dora Wagner Ann King Rose Morley

13 17 19

v Our Editor in the Field

Kyra Pollitt meets Anna Neubert-Wood

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vi The Chemistry Column Sage Advice The Climate Column

Claire Gormley Callum Halstead Patrick Dunne

26 28 31

vii In Focus: The pardoning of witches

Marianne Hughes

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viii Foraging through Folklore Botanica Fabula Nine Arches Press presents...

Ella Leith Amanda Edmiston Lewis Buxton

37 41 44

ix Book Club Stuart Milligan reviews Ireland’s Hidden Medicine by Rosarie Kingston (Aeon Books, 2021) Kyra Pollitt reviews Notes from an Island by Tove Jansson and Tuulikki Pietilä (Sort of Books, 2021) x Contributors Looking Forward

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Sheila Masson Boxing Club I

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ii: Artist of the Month

Sheila Masson www.sheilamasson.com You may notice this month’s images carry something of an American flavour. That’s because Sheila Masson has worked as a photographer and picture editor in New York City, Los Angeles, and San Francisco. Sheila’s photographs have been published in numerous books, newspapers, and magazines, including America 24-7, Life: The Year in Pictures, Vanity Fair, The Times, The Guardian and The Independent. Now based in Edinburgh and following an MLitt (History of Photography, University of St Andrews), Sheila works as a freelance photographer, independent photo historian, and collections care manager for the National Collection of Aerial Photography. She has also developed a research specialism in 19th century British tintypes.

Sheila writes: The images selected for Herbology News were taken during my work as a photojournalist in the San Francisco Bay Area. It feels like another lifetime now, but back then my day-to-day reality was covering local and national news stories.

Living in the Bay Area offers you an undeniable connection to your own physicality and the natural world. In the summer months I could swim in bright, morning sunshine in one of the outdoor pools before arriving at the newspaper for work, and on assignment I could be found hiking through fields or running along roads to shoot breaking news items.

The photographs presented here show a variety of sports and physical accomplishments— from high school sports to local independent sports clubs, as well as individual, personal goals, such as swimming the length of Lake Tahoe. Although some of these pictures were taken inside, the Northern California climate allows and encourages a more connected experience to the landscape and the outdoors. As a photographer, the golden light and relatively consistent weather (the City of San Francisco’s famous fog not withstanding) created a stunning backdrop to my assignments; spending hours on the sidelines of baseball and football games or photographing in remote locations was rarely arduous.

In many ways there is a more focused attitude towards to sports and fitness in the USA, even from an early age. My personal American high school experience included three hours of swimming training five days a week, in comparison to the one or two hours of practice per week at my British school. These photographs reflect that environment; innumerable hours are dedicated to training and honing one’s skills, and for many high school students these physical exertions may help pave the way for their academic and financial futures, through college scholarships or preferred admission for athletes. For adults, as in many other countries, sports and physical training can be essential for better mental as well as general health, particularly in high stress environments and careers.

You can find more of Sheila’s work on her website, or follow her on social media: Instagram: @sheilamasson and @britishtintypes

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ii: Artist of the Month

Cover image Long Distance Swimming Training I Other images Boxing Club I Football Fit Waterpolo II Football at Stanford Wrestling Practice Underwater Waterpolo I Gay Pride Muscles Long Distance Swimming Training II

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Sheila Masson Football Fit

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iii: Herb of the Month

Nettle (Urtica dioica) Marianne Hughes, with illustration by Hazel Brady Where to start with this much maligned plant?

Nettle (Urtica dioica) is, as Bruton-Seal and Seal (2014) tell us, ‘one of the world’s great herbs, and has been recognised throughout history as such wherever it grows’. They go on to acknowledge the work of herbalist John Parkinson (1567-1650), who described the many medicinal virtues of Nettle— its use as a decongestant and expectorant, an antiallergenic (for asthma and hay fever), a diuretic to dissolve calculi from the kidneys and bladder, for worms and wind, for stimulating menstruation, for skin sores, fistulas and gangrene, and for nose bleeds (acting similarly to Yarrow, Achillea millefolium). Almost certainly drawing on Parkinson’s work, Nicholas Culpeper (16161654) echoed his appreciation of the Nettle, whose: roots or leaves boiled … is a safe and sure medicine to open the passages of the lungs which is the cause of wheezing and shortness of breath, and helps to expectorate phlegm.

Parkinson’s thoroughness should be heeded today, and Nettle recognised for the amazing herb it is.

Pant and Sundriyal’s extensive review of research into Nettle (2016) has confirmed its world-wide medicinal application as an effective cure for allergies, rheumatism and arthritis, as an antioxidant, and in decreasing cholesterol levels. A modern use of Nettle root— unknown in Parkinson and Culpeper’s time —is for the problem of benign prostatic hyperplasia (BPH) in men. The action appears to be an anti-proliferative effect on the prostatic epithelial cells— that is, reducing the enlarging of the prostate (Pant and Sundriyal, 2016). The underestimated medicinal benefits of Nettle have also been highlighted by Kregiel et al (2018), whose research has explored Nettle’s ‘noticeable activity against 10

both Gram-positive and Gram-negative bacteria’. The anti-microbial activity of the active compounds in Nettle add another layer of use for this often-neglected herb.

More recently, the research interest in Nettle for medicinal use has been expanded to include a focus on Nettle as a food. Pant and Sundriyal (2016) note that, according to the FAO in 1999, 75% of the world’s food is generated from only twelve plants— and that, since 1900, 75% of plant genetic diversity has been lost, as farmers switch to genetically uniform high-yielding varieties in place of local varieties. New plant resources with health and nutritional benefits are needed, particularly as a deficiency of Vitamin A, iron and iodine leads to common public health problems. A review of over 160 research articles revealed the considerable ethnobotanical importance of Nettle (ibid).

While I was aware of Nettle as a rich source of iron, calcium and magnesium, I was not aware that Nettle’s leaves, stems and roots contain 26% protein— double that found in Spinach

iii: Herb of the Month (Spinacia oleracea) and Parsley (Petroselinum crispum). Nor did I know that it has higher concentrations of essential amino acids (on a dry weight basis, Nettle is better even than Almond, Prunus amygdalus), nor that it was a good source of unsaturated fatty (oleic, linoleic and a-linoleic) acids. What a revelation!

Shonte et al (2020) note that Stinging Nettles provide low-cost quality nutrition for alleviating malnutrition, and explored the impact that drying the leaves has on their nutritional quality. They compare oven drying and freeze drying methods, and find that: oven drying nettle leaves resulted in higher loss of ß-carotene and ascorbic acid content compared to freeze drying. In contrast, the total phenols content and total antioxidant activity were higher in oven dried stinging nettles compared to freeze drying leaves.

They conclude that, overall, both freeze dried and oven dried Nettle leaves can be considered a rich source of calcium, magnesium and Vitamin A, and a good source of Vitamin C, iron, manganese and potassium.

Across time and locality in Scotland, we have a wide range of evidence for the medicinal and culinary use of Nettle. Beith (2004) notes that Nettles formed an important part of a spring tonic and were consumed in the form of a porridge or pot herb to purify the blood after winter. Barker (2011) quotes a story from Uig, Isle of Skye, about the practice of hitting Nettles against arthritic areas of the body— a practice echoed in many cultures. This makes use of the formic acid from Nettle stings, and appears to have the medicinal impact of dissolving ‘gravel’ in the body. Kenicer (2018) notes that, during his travels in the Western Isles in 1703, Martin Martin recorded that Nettle leaves were crushed and added to meat or lentil broth, and used to alleviate rheumatism.

So, instead of removing Nettles from our gardens, we should consider cultivating a patch. Harvested throughout the year, it can provide you with a delicious tea and help to enrich foods from stews to oatcakes with a wide array of vitamins. Also, the occasional Nettle sting on an arthritic joint can indeed help to alleviate the soreness— once the sting itself has faded.

References Barker, A. (2011) Remembered Remedies: Scottish Traditional Plant Lore. Birlinn: Edinburgh Beith, M. (2004) Healing Threads: Traditional Medicine of the Highlands and Islands. Birlinn: Edinburgh Bruton-Seal, J. and Seal, M. (2014) The Herbalist’s Bible: John Parkinson’s Lost Classic Rediscovered.

Merlin Unwin Books: Shropshire Kenicer, G.J. (2018) Scottish Plant Lore: An Illustrated Flora. Royal Botanic Garden, Edinburgh Kregiel, D, Pawlikowska, E. and Antolak, H. (2018) ‘Urtica spp.: Ordinary Plants with Extraordinary Properties’ in Molecules: A Journal of Synthetic Chemistry and Natural Product Chemistry, 23(7):1664 Pant, V. and Sundriyal, R.C. (2016) ‘Nutritional and therapeutic efficacy of Stinging Nettle – A review’ in The Journal of Ethnobiology and Traditional Medicine, Photon 126: 1240-1254 Shonte, T., Duodu, K.G. and de Kock, H. (2020) ‘Effect of drying methods on chemical composition and antioxidant activity of underutilized stinging Nettle leaves’ in Heliyon, 6(5):e03938

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Sheila Masson Waterpolo II

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iv: Anthroposophical Views

Finding common ground Dora Wagner Living like a tree, single and free yet as united as a forest, this longing is ours Hikmet, Trans. Kraft (2008)

Without their help, nothing works. They are involved in our every movement; in breathing, hearing, seeing, laughing, speaking. Our diaphragm and our tongue are muscles. Every heartbeat is a muscle’s contraction. Humans have over 650 such contractile organs. Their remarkable ability to contract and relax in concert with each other in a large cooperative network is apparent in the changes of shape and external movements of our bodies. Even the very smallest— musculus stapedius —is of huge importance in protecting our ears and regulating our exposure to high volumes.

Anthroposophy, in its tripartite view of the human being, assigns muscles and motion to the ‘metabolic-limb system’, which is also considered to set the tone for our will.

Human motion includes many activities of which we are conscious— perceiving and speaking, the dexterous movements of our hands and fingers, as well as more dreamlike, rhythmic processes such as walking, breathing, or the beating of our hearts.

Almost completely detached from consciousness, and similar to sleep, are the slow, writhing movements of our intestines, the flow of our blood, and even the permanent motion of the cells of our immune system, creating inflammation when things foreign to our organism need to be digested.

All of these varied functions are achieved through three basic fibre types— skeletal, cardiac, and smooth. But muscles are also able to change their size or composition to adapt to changing demands.

Skeletal and cardiac muscles are known as ‘striated’ because they reveal light and dark stripes under a microscope. Smooth muscles do not show these stripes. They are found, for example, in the digestive and respiratory tract, the blood vessels or the urinary tract.

Since they, like our heart muscle, are controlled only by our autonomic nervous system, they function almost automatically. By contrast, skeletal muscles are attached to our bones by tendons, and so are subject to our will. For example, when we instruct our body to raise its forearm, our bicep tenses while its antagonist— the tricep — relaxes. Like a rope, skeletal muscles are made up of a single structure, surrounded by a sheath of connective tissue. This sheath— the fascia — itself consists of many fibre-bundles, known as muscle fascicles, which in turn are composed of individual muscle fibres, called muscle cells.

Actually, the term ‘muscle cell’ is misleading; these myocytes are in fact made up of several individual primary units that have fused together into a multinucleated cell (Schwegler, 2011).

Besides muscle soreness, strains, and tears as the result of overuse, accident, lack of exercise or, as I have recently experienced, prolonged immobilisation, the signs and symptoms of more serious myopathies vary widely. They often include rapid muscle fatigue after exertion or at rest, cramp-like muscle pain, progressive muscle atrophy or orthopaedic damage due to deformation of joints and bones. For the common muscular aches and pains we have probably all experienced, one plant is particularly effective: Arnica montana (Arnica).

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iv: Anthroposophical Views provide the energy for ripening. As soon as he left the field, the grain would wither. To prevent this ‘corn-wolf’ escaping, the farmers put Arnica around their fields. When the grain was cut, the wolf would slip into the last sheaf, which was then decorated with Wolf Flowers and carried into the village amid great celebrations.

The German name for the plant is BergWohlverleih, literally ‘Mountain’s wellbeinglend’. Anyone who wants to encounter this plant in its natural habitat has to climb up high: Arnica montana is most at home at an altitude of about 1000-1500m. It grows on low-calcium and acidic moor soils, in heather forests and in unfertilised mountain meadows.

Even in environments where fallen trees turn to decay and the ground is torn up, the herb is still able to fit firmly into its surroundings, since Arnica takes root in the humus layer, penetrating it with thin stolons that emerge from a bulbous rhizome. The plant is able to withstand constant violation, both below and above ground. Besides moulds growing on the plant, it is typically invaded by flies of the generae Tripeta arnicivora and Tetritis arnicae and their larvae, which feed in the flowerheads. The root is affected by a fungus, which inadvertently contributes to its function.

From this atmosphere of breakdown and decay, each plant lives in a kind of autocracy, tolerating no other of its genus within a radius of about 30cm.

When stretching forth its bright yellow flower heads, from June to August, Arnica is said to carry the wild spirit of the wolf, and so is also named the ‘Wolf Flower’. More poetically, perhaps, the mountain sun flashing in the blossoms is said to recall the twinkling yellow eyes of a wolf. In my ancestors' imaginations this animal roamed through the late summer grains when the wind rustled the corn heads.

The wolf symbolised the power of the field, the spirit of the grain, and was supposed to 14

Arnica was also put around fields on St. John's Day, to protect the grain from the demon Bilwis, traditionally thought responsible for the furrows caused by grazing game. One of the most important of St. John's herbs, alongside St. John's Wort (Hypericum perforatum) and ferns (Polypodiopsidae spp.), Arnica— dedicated to the Germanic goddess Freya —could not be excluded from any decent solstice ritual. It also played a role in weather rituals, being used as incense during thunderstorms: ‘Put on Arnica, put on Arnica, so that the weather can part!’.

Against all odds, the plant manages to establish its vital root and in summer its bright flower seems to open in the blink of an eye; from a striking four- to eight-leaved light green rosette pressed close to the ground, a sturdy stem with fine silvery hairs pushes up to 60cm tall, suddenly giving birth to a large flower at the end of its shoot. Arnica seems to live in the polarity of root and flower, unfolding entirely in its flowering impulse while holding back any lush foliage. The flower heads, exposed to nature’s forces of heat and light, cold and wind, often look somewhat dishevelled and deformed. They are certainly not as radiantly harmonious as other Compositae, such as Marguerites (Leucanthemum vulgare), Daisies (Bellis perennis) or Asters (Aster amellus). As with all Compositae, the flower heads are made up of many tiny individual florets, tiny tubes gathering in the centre, encircled by larger tubes with long, radiating leaves that we see as the ‘rays’ of the flower. The marginal petals of Arnica sit irregularly in a circle around the

iv: Anthroposophical Views central cluster. Yet, when the flower unfolds in the sunshine, and its wondrous arrangement of florets bursts into yellow-red glowing bloom, it is easy to understand why Arnica is known as ‘Feuerblume’ (Fire Flower) in Bavaria and Austria (Hegi, 1931). In the course of the summer, in the axils of two small opposite, almost parallel-veined stem leaves, slightly smaller flower heads appear after the terminal flower heads have faded.

These ‘doppelganger flowers’ are still well suited to preparing Arnica tincture. Generally, in homeopathy a preparation is made from the root, whereas in anthroposophical medicine the whole plant is used— from root to flower.

broken, Arnica oil is massaged in, or compresses of diluted Arnica tincture, gels or ointments are applied. For example, Arnica essence— usually made from the flowers —is applied as a poultice for sprains and bruises by soaking a cloth in 1/4 litre of water with 1 tablespoon of the tincture added. The more recent the injury, and the more severe the overheating or swelling, the more advisable a watery application, such as a poultice or a gel.

In the case of older injuries, however, ointments are to be preferred, as they tend to warm the area of injury and thus promote the dissolution of haematomas or, in the case of a pulled muscles, stimulate healing processes.

Arnica’s flowers are accompanied by a spicy, aromatic, delicate fragrance, which is not only specific to the aerial parts of the plant, but also permeates the rootstock and the rhizome, which forms new pairs of leaves every year. The entire plant is perennial, withstanding the harsh mountain winters by retracting its strength into the rootstock. Until a couple of years ago, it was not considered possible to cultivate Arnica montana, due to its complex symbioses with grasses, so it only grew in the wild. As the plant is protected, it has often been replaced in remedies by the more common Meadow Arnica (Arnica chamissonis), which has similar healing properties. For the last fifteen years, however, a cultivar of the species has been made available for cultivation, such that numerous affordable remedies can now be found in pharmacies. Needless to say, the natural habitats of wild Arnica still need special protection from water deprivation, fertilising, mowing and, of course, the digging up of roots.

Depending on the concentration, the ingredients of the herb are highly toxic and can cause side effects when taken internally, e.g., as a herbal tea. Potentised globules or drops of Arnica montana are probably the most widespread form of internal application in anthroposophical therapy. These are given for blunt injuries, against pain, but also after operations. For fresh injuries, 5 globules D6 are taken immediately, then four to five times

Arnica’s medicinal applications are many and varied. In Germany, almost everybody knows ‘Arnika’ as a reliable first aid remedy for all kinds of injuries and pains. If you have bruised, bumped, sprained, or twisted any part of your body, and even when a bone has been 15

iv: Anthroposophical Views a day. After operations, D6 or D12 is recommended. Where there is infection with severe muscle pain and strain of the limbs, often accompanied by the sensation that ‘the bed is too hard’, 15 globules of D12 or D30 can be dissolved in a glass of water, from which one teaspoon is taken initially and then every half an hour. This often works better than the usual painkillers. Arnica is also used in anthroposophical hospitals for more serious illnesses such as heart attacks, angina pectoris, concussion, or strokes. Warm pulse compresses with Arnica essence, for example, are additionally supportive for heart complaints while cooling Arnica ‘bonnets’ are used for head conditions (Sommer, 2011).

Being afflicted with arteriosclerosis, the poet Johann Wolfgang von Goethe suffered his first heart attack in late February 1823. The ‘invincible pain’ in his chest threatened the end of the 73-year-old, as bloodletting with leeches failed to bring relief. Then the personal physician of a Duke had the idea of treating the patient with Arnica tea. Days later, Goethe had found his way back to life, whereupon he eulogized the plant in the most graceful way, exalting its energetic effects (Eckermann, 1984): But, when life and death began their struggle within me, I felt that the hosts of life, with this flower on their banner, were enforcing a breakthrough and the hostile-stagnant, the deadlyoppressive was being prepared for its extinction. Rejuvenated, by recovery I praise this plant in the highest tones, and yet it is only she who praises herself, the truly inexhaustible nature.

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It is not surprising that Arnica— a plant that possesses an extraordinary ability to hold its own in an atmosphere of decomposition and disintegration —can support us in such a miraculous way. In any kind of trauma or injury, this first-aider herb, with its balancing power, is able to stimulate healing processes and contribute to regeneration and restructuring.

Through our capacity for consciousness, humans are the only creatures on Earth that develop a will from their wanting. Perhaps we should take a leaf out of Arnica's book, empower ourselves to act even under difficult conditions, and manifest our longing for lives of freedom in a forest of togetherness.

Images Drawings and collages by Dora Wagner using public domain and Wikipedia Commons.

References Eckermann, J. (1984) Gespräche mit Goethe in den letzten Jahren seines Lebens. C.H. Beck, München Hegi, G. (1931) Illustrierte Flora von Mitteleuropa. Lehmann-Verlag, München Hikmet, N. (2008) ‘Davet‘ (Invitation) in Die Namen der Sehnsucht (Names of Desire).

Trans. Kraft, G. Amman Verlag, Zürich.

Schwegler, J. (2011) Der Mensch – Anatomie und Physiologie. Thieme, Stuttgart Sommer, M. (2011) Heilpflanzen. Urachhaus, Stuttgart

iv: Notes from the Brewroom

A gentle sting in the tail Ann King Spring is here, but our enthusiasm to get out into the early sunshine, to bask in the yellow flora and the lime-green leaves and shoots peeping, popping and unfurling from the hedgerows, can have unfortunate consequences for those who are ill-prepared for this sudden increase in physical activity.

Aching, tired and even pulled muscles will inevitably temper our initial excitement. If we heed the wisdom of nature around us— the Fiddlehead Ferns (Polypodiopsida spp.) gracefully unfurling, the oversized HorseChestnut buds (Aesculus hippocastanum) slowly revealing their palmate leaves —we can see that activity should be gradually built up, with lots of stretching and resting in between exercise to allow our sleepy muscles time to catch up with the active mind.

No small wonder that the ubiquitous Nettle has been used for centuries as the go-to herb to help with cramping muscles.

As ever, our herbal friends may help us transition from restful winter to a more active state. Young leafy greens are filled to bursting with their highest concentrations of goodness, and can provide a much needed tonic at this time of year. Nettle (Urtica dioica) has to be the favourite in The Brew Room, and recently we have been out harvesting the first ‘tops’.

Fresh Nettle shoots can provide continuous harvest if the top 10-15cm of tender new growth is trimmed regularly with scissors. Its high concentrates of calcium, potassium, magnesium, and iron are due to the Nettle’s long tap roots (the very ones that gardeners silently curse), which absorb more minerals from deep in the ground than their shallowrooted neighbours.

Ingredients: 3 sprigs of Nettle tops 1tbsp each of minced fresh Ginger (Zingiber officinale) and Turmeric (Curcuma longa), both known for their circulation boosting and antiinflammatory constituents Freshly ground Black Pepper (Piper nigrum), to promote the absorption of ingredients

There are so many nutritive recipes available; we would urge the sweet-toothed to try Nettle Cake, or perhaps Nettle Crackers for lovers of all things savoury. Recipes for both can easily be found online. But today, we offer two of our favourite brews, which encourage regular imbibing of Nettle’s beneficial extracts.

Hot Springs This infusion is perfect for enjoying at the end of a mizzly day or after an open water dip.

Take time to inhale the aromas before sipping slowly and focusing on nourishing the whole body.

Place the ingredients into a large teapot or cafetière, cover and allow to brew for ten minutes before straining.

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iv: Notes from the Brewroom

Cold Springs The following are all harvested locally, and they combine beautifully in an overnight infusion which you can keep in your flask for replenishing muscles during your spring activities.

Ingredients for a 500ml glass jar: 2 sprigs of young Lemon Balm leaves (Melissa officinalis), to stem inflammation and to refresh 3 sprigs of Nettle tops, to provide the nutritive benefits of vitamins and minerals 1 tbsp of Elderflowers (Sambucus nigra), to promote healthy joints 2-3 stems of Cleavers (Gallium aparine), to cleanse the lymphatic system A slice of Lemon (Citrus limon) to taste Place all the ingredients in the glass jar, cover and refrigerate overnight if possible. Strain and enjoy.

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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.

iv: Flower Power

Taking the sting out of life Rose Morley The first thing that comes to mind about Nettle (Urtica dioica) is its sting, with its annoyingly painful chemicals. It’s an easy herb to hate— a well-known garden in the northeast of England has even relegated Nettle to its Poison Garden. However, the touch of a Nettle can, over time, reduce the original pain by interfering with the way that our bodies transmit pain signals to the brain. Nettle takes good care of us in the end.

Nettle can grow just about anywhere— grass verges, your back garden, hedgerows, and woodlands —and Nettle flower essences are produced across the world. The Practitioner’s Encyclopedia of Flower Remedies (Harvey, 2014) tells us that Wild Plant Extension practitioners from Africa and the Amazon use Nettle to take the sting out of conflicts within a group (p.142). This perhaps makes it the ideal treatment for angst-ridden teenagers, siblings who argue, and those struggling with family feuds. In Europe, practitioners from Harebell Remedies claim that Nettle can connect us with ‘warmth, expression, communication and sharing’, and should be used for dealing with ‘withheld feelings resulting from past hurt, and the cool distant personality’ to facilitate easier relationships (p.233). Wild Flower Essences claim that Nettle essence can help to purify our aura if we feel sensitive to hostile environments, and that it provides psychic protection (just like the Walnut Bach Flower Essence and the Psychic Protection spray from the Findhorn Flower Essence range). Nettle flower essence can also help us if we have low energy, or qi.

Nettle is also effective in helping open the chakras, in particular the first, third and sixth (p. 251). Finally, Deva Flower Elixirs use Nettle to help to resolve psychological problems encountered in perturbed homes. It can relieve emotional stress and bring calmness and courage after a family split or a break-up; it can also strengthen family unity (p. 263). I, for one, could have benefitted from this many years ago.

Stinging Nettle has been used for hundreds of years to treat painful muscles and joints, as well as eczema, arthritis, gout, allergies, and anaemia. Today, many people use it to treat urinary problems during the early stages of an enlarged prostate (benign prostatic hyperplasia or BPH). It is also used for urinary tract infections and in creams for treating joint pain. Nettle can reduce the vasodilators, meaning that it can relax the muscles and, in turn, enlarge the arteries to help increase blood flow. It contains many minerals like calcium, iron, phosphorus, potassium and sodium, and the magnesium found in Nettle can aid in reducing the symptoms of restless leg syndrome.

Did you know that there are also two Australian flower remedies that can help with muscle pain? These are Wild Potato Bush and Black-Eyed Susan. Fear not— Susan doesn’t have a black eye! This essence is produced in Sydney Australia, and is great for people always on the go, so use this if your weary onthe-go muscles need a bit of TLC (White,

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iv: Flower Power

1993:50). Meanwhile, Wild Potato Bush essence is commonly taken by pregnant women towards the end of their pregnancy when movements are restricted and muscles can have that tired, achy feeling (ibid:269).

Australian Bush Remedies can not only help with the physical but the emotional, too— and we can all benefit from easing the emotions that sometimes hinder our movement, as well as muscle issues that in turn can affect our moods.

What a wonderful world we live in, with so many natural remedies right on our doorstep.

Image Entrance to the Poison Garden at Alnwick Castle. Photo: Rose Morley

References Harvey, C. (2014) The Practitioners Encyclopedia of Flower Remedies. Singing Dragon: London White, I. (1993) Australian Bush Flower Essences. Inner Traditions/Bear: Rochester, VT

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Sheila Masson Football at Stanford

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v: Our Editor in the Field

Kyra Pollitt meets Anna Neubert-Wood Kyra Pollitt Picture the scene, if you will. It’s mid-January, I’m back at work, I’m running out of time to make a rendezvous, my technology is melting, and someone is at my shoulder being ‘helpful’. I’m about to experience my first stress-out of 2022. Perfect timing, in a way, because I’ll shortly be meeting Anna Neubert-Wood, proprietor of WanderWomen, an award-nominated business offering ‘outstanding outdoor experiences for women’, with ‘a unique mix of mindfulness and adventure’. That’s if she’s still there, now that I’m late…

We have arranged to meet outside a café on Portobello promenade. I realise halfway there that I haven’t done my research either, so have no clue what she looks like. I needn’t worry. She’s still there, and she’s unmistakeable. A languid, willowy figure greets me calmly, gently brushing away my apologies. Willow is an apt description not only of Anna’s height and physique, but of her aura— the dappled green of sunlight through new leaves comes to mind, and I can almost smell the salicin. As we introduce ourselves, I detect an accent and so the story unfolds…

Anna was born and raised in the former Democratic Republic of East Germany. She was nine years old when the Berlin Wall came down. She credits her parents with protecting her from the worst of the regime. Avoiding enrolment in the Young Pioneers— possibly because she was left-handed and much official time was dedicated to ‘correcting’ this —her parents reduced her exposure to the propaganda of the day by not keeping a television in the house. They didn’t have a landline either and certainly not a car. Instead, Anna recalls a happy childhood with as much time spent in nature as possible. This was her parents’ tried and trusted method of escape, of experiencing a freedom that communicated itself strongly to their little girl. She valued the times spend in a hut in nature and laughs now at how naturism was practised as a kind of immutable defiance of a State that controlled almost every other aspect of life. ‘I suppose it was a childhood spent in a kind of lockdown’, she muses. .It’s a cold, bright day in Edinburgh, and Portobello beach is offering some of its most beautiful light. People are strolling, playing, and boating. Anna wonders aloud whether nudism might be Porty’s next big thing, after wild swimming became so popular during the pandemic. In this moment, I could go for that.

Laughing easily, Anna tells me how lifechanging many of the women in her groups find it simply to strip down to their swimsuits together in public. ‘It’s as if they are stripping off the layers of socialisation, psychological layers’, she says.

Anna organises group activities in the outdoors that allow women to connect with each other and with themselves. The women are from all walks of life, of all ages. And it’s not just about swimming. Anna loves collaborating. Amongst others, she has worked with a botanist, a woman who gives sound baths, and a forager to offer a range of activities, and her door is always open. She is struck by how women commonly react to the 22 night walks she offers:

v: Our Editor in the Field

sound baths, and a forager to offer a range of activities, and her door is always open. She is struck by how women commonly react to the night walks she offers: They often bring along torches, and mobile phones.

It’s amazing how uncomfortable many women feel in the dark. They don’t trust their eyes to adjust. They are not accustomed to feeling safe and they have not learned to enjoy the beauty of the night, the silence.

Anna loves silence. I wonder how compatible her gentleness is with facilitating groups of women who have never met before and may bring emotional baggage of all shapes and sizes. She doesn’t deny that there’s a considerable degree of stress involved in supervising everyone’s safety, but says that, in the best cases, the groups become almost self-supporting. She tells me of one unusual instance involving two women who booked a private session. They were sisters who had been separated at birth and had never met, but chose to reconnect physically through one of Anna’s offerings. I get a sense that the responsibility of her position is tempered by unique privilege.

And she’s very organised. Before moving to Scotland, Anna lived in London where she met a Fifer with excellent taste who married her and persuaded her to move north. Later, as a mother, she was horrified by the age at which children in the UK are expected to start school, so did some research. She discovered that Scotland is one of few places in the UK where children can be educated ‘flexibly’. So, every Monday, her boys took time out of school to enjoy connecting with nature, just as their mother had when she was their age. They learned to identify plants, build with stones, weave with willow, be outdoors. To Anna, this should be everyone’s birth right and it’s what she tries to give back to the women who come to her stressed, alienated, fearful and depleted.

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v: Our Editor in the Field

In the past, she has worked with Women’s Aid, and with projects at Wester Hailes, and offers a KarmaWomen service that allows women to ‘pay it forward’ by supporting places for others. But it’s one of her 2022 ambitions that more women facing economic or social barriers are given opportunities to access the benefits of her work, perhaps even finding opportunities to provide services to and through the NHS. She plans to balance all that by encouraging more corporate clients to engage her for team bonding events.

Since we’re talking business, I feel I must compliment her on her branding; the name ‘WanderWomen’ is a thing of genius. ‘Ah’, she says somewhat ruefully, and therein hangs another tale…

You can find out more at wander-women.co.uk, and follow Anna’s work on Instagram, Twitter and Facebook: @wanderwomenscotland

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Sheila Masson Wrestling Practice

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vi: The Chemistry Column

Endorphins or ‘outdoorphins’?

Claire Gormley Urban living has its perks— most things that you need are just a few steps from your door —but the stress levels of those living in urban environments have also been found to be significantly higher than those living in nature (Lowry et al, 2016). Exercise and going outside are two of the most common suggestions made to people who are looking to de-stress and relax. Not only does exercise physically remove one from a situation that may be causing stress, but it is widely known that exercise releases endorphins which make us feel better. Getting these endorphins pumping isn’t always easy, however, and recent studies into the stress levels of urban versus rural inhabitants point to spending time in nature rather than in the gym.

Endorphins are the body’s natural painkillers.

Also referred to as endogenous opioids due to the sedative effect they have in common with opiates found in nature, these chemicals leave us feeling relaxed and optimistic after a significant sweat (Grossman and Sutton, 1985; Basso and Suzuki, 2017). They work in two different ways. Some endorphins bind to opioid receptors in the peripheral nervous system and prevent the release of substance P, which is a neuropeptide (a chemical messenger like a neurotransmitter) responsible for sensing pain (Chaudhry and Gossman, 2021). Others can also bind to 26

receptors in the central nervous system and suppress the release of the neurotransmitter gamma aminobutyric acid (GABA). The suppression of GABA consequently increases the production of dopamine, the pleasureinducing neurotransmitter, leading to an increase in mood (Chaudhry and Gossman, 2021).

This pathway makes sense to me: the receptors on our neurons help us to experience the world around us, including pain, and accepting that the absence of pain is pleasure is not a far jump to make. What I find more surprising is how going outside produces the same effects. There is some evidence that interaction with plants reduces our psychological stress through the suppression of our sympathetic nervous system (a part of a nervous system that autonomously coordinates our involuntary actions, like breathing and heart rate); however, a different study suggests that it may be the microbes in our gut that actually soothe our stress (Lee et al, 2015; Foxx et al, 2020).

According to Foxx et al (2020), Mycobacterium vaccae, along with other soilbased bacteria that have anti-inflammatory and immunoregulatory properties, may be effective stress relievers. These ‘outdoorphins’

vi: The Chemistry Column flood our bodies when we interact with plants and soil outdoors, and act as natural antidepressants by reducing inflammation caused by stress-related psychiatric disorders (Nazish, 2018; Lowry et al, 2016). The mechanism by which M. vaccae brings about these positive changes in our mood is not well understood yet; however, it is thought that Tcells, which are immune cells responsible for regulating our inflammatory response, are signaled by the microbes to effect this change (Lowry et al, 2016). Further studies are being conducted into how these microbes can be used to treat people suffering from posttraumatic stress disorder (Foxx et al, 2020).

As an urban dweller returning from a countryside holiday, I am grateful that a bit of soil and some new green friends are all the medicine that I’ll need the next time the city pressure rises.

References Basso, J. C., and Suzuki, W. A. (2017) ‘The Effects of Acute Exercise on Mood, Cognition, Neurophysiology, and Neurochemical Pathways: A review’ in Brain Plasticity, 2(2): 127-152 Chaudhry, S. R., and Gossman, W. (2021) Biochemistry, Endorphin. Treasure Island: StatPearls Publishing Foxx, C.L., Heinze, J.D., González, A., Vargas, F., Baratta, M.V., Elsayed, A.I., Stewart, J.R., Loupy, K.M., Arnold, M.R., Flux, M.C., Sago, S.A., Seibler, P.H., Milton, L.N., Lieb, M.W., Hassell, J.E., Smith, D.G., Lee, K.A.K., Appiah, S.A., Schaefer, E.J., Panitachpakdi, M., Sikora, N.C., Weldon, K.C., Stamper, C.E., Schmidt, D., Duggan, D.A., Mengesha, Y.M., Ogbaselassie, M., Nguyen, K.T., Gates,. C.A., Scnabel, K., Tran, L., Jones, J.D., Vitaterna, M.H., Turek, F.W., Fleshner, M., Dorrestein, P.C., Knight, R., Wright, K.P., and Lowry, C.R. (2020) ‘Effects of Immunization with the soilderviced bacterium Mycobacterium vaccae on stress coping behaviours and cognitive performance in a “two hit” stressor model’ in Frontiers in Physiology, 11:524833 Grossman, A., and Sutton, J.R. (1985) ‘Endorphins: What are they? How are they measured? What is their role in exercise?’ in

Medicine and Science in Sports and Exercise, 17(1): 74-81 Lee, M., Lee, J., Park, B., and Miyazaki, Y. (2015) ‘Interaction with indoor plants may reduce psychological and physiological stress by suppressing the autonomic nervous system activity in young adults: a randomized crossover study’ in Journal of Physiological Anthropology, 34(1): 21 Lowry, C. A., Smith, D. G., Siebler, P. H., Schmidt, D., Stamper, C. E., Hassell, J. E. Jr., Yamashita, P. S., Fox, J. H., Reber, S. O, Brenner, L. A., Hoisington, A. J., Postolache, T. T., Kinney, K. A., Marciani, D., Hernandez, M., Hemmings, S. M.J., Malan-Muller, S., Wright, K. P., Knight, R., Raison, C. L., and Rook, G. A.W. (2016) ‘The Microbiota, Immunoregulation, and Mental Health: Implications for Public Health’ in Current Environmental Health Reports, 3, 270-286.

Nazish, N. (2018) T’hink you don’t need houseplants? Science says different’ in Forbes, 10/02/2018. www.forbes.com/sites/nomanazish [accessed 11 February 2022]

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vi: Sage Advice

Spring cleaning Callum Halstead Every year, at some point in March I find myself questioning how, once again, I have managed to drift through more than two months of the year without having made any significant progress on any early season jobs.

None of the wreckage of winter has been removed, no seeds ordered, none of my more tender plants provided with any form of adequate frost protection... and so on. Part of the reason has been the lack of evening light, but really it’s getting past the point in the year when I can still use that excuse. I could have been much more proactive than I have been, but the good news is that it’s not too late to get to work on most of these jobs and, while the frost damaged plants will probably bear the scars of my neglect for a good few months, they’ll get over it.

I’m more in the mood for gardening now. I like to get out into the garden earlier in the year to see the Snowdrops (Galanthus spp.) and other heralds of spring emerging from their long rest, but this doesn’t usually translate into much in the way of action. Now, however, I am ready to get going. Ready to fill gaps in the borders, to change a few plant combinations that didn’t work last year or that I’ve grown tired of, and— like many keen gardeners — ready to buy more new plants than I have room for.

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When shopping, it’s easy to be seduced by the eye-catching plants placed conveniently close to the tills alongside the chocolate and paracetamol. Each of these items can, in its own way, doubtless help you to feel much better; but, where plants are concerned, you have to be wary about whether what you are buying is actually suitable for planting out before the weather has properly warmed up.

Frost damaged and dead plants are in no way a gateway to happiness.

Rather disappointingly, many retailers— including some garden centres —abuse our natural desire for a bit of greenery at this time of year, using it as an opportunity to sell plants that they know are unlikely to survive outside the cosy temperature-controlled glasshouses that they have been grown in. I’m sure that this is one of the main reasons why so many people believe that they are bad plant parents; they wrongly blame themselves for their glossy new plant’s swift decline, when in actual fact they were sold something that never stood a chance of surviving in the first place. Until the shops cease with this ridiculous and quite disingenuous sales tactic, what is needed is a little bit of education.

Enter the smartphone. What we are mainly concerned with at this time of year is ‘hardiness’— that is, how well-equipped a

vi: Sage Advice plant is to deal with cold and, more importantly, frost. Your first port of call should be the plant label, which will often give you a good idea of just how hardy the plant is.

However, the quality of the information on plant labels can vary depending on where you are buying your plants, so for those who remain unsure of how tough the plants in their shopping trolley are, I would recommend quickly searching the plant’s name on the Royal Horticultural Society (RHS)’s website.

The RHS has a pretty extensive online encyclopaedia of popular garden plants, so there’s a good chance that the plant that you’re searching for will appear. Once you have found your plant, scroll down to the section entitled ‘Position’ and hit the down arrow. Here you will see the word ‘Hardiness’, under which there will be a short code that starts with the letter ‘H’. The higher the number that follows the H, the colder the temperature the plant in question can handle without the need for additional protection.

If the plant is anything from ‘H4’ to ‘H7’, it’ll be pretty tough and should be fine outside in the cold throughout most of the British Isles.

‘H3’ is borderline, so if a cold snap is forecast, perhaps bring it indoors until the threat of frost has passed. ‘H2’ plants, often referred to as ‘half-hardy’, won’t take a frost at all; they need to wait until warmer weather can be guaranteed before being planted outside.

That leaves the tender ‘H1’ plants, which are further divided into categories, decreasing in hardiness from C, through B, to A, to clarify exactly how much they detest the cold. (My sister, for example, is most certainly H1B, preferring a subtropical climate.) There are plenty of ‘H1’s that could make brilliant temporary additions to your garden, but there are many that should essentially be considered to be either house or warm greenhouse plants, as they will likely protest at being placed outside on anything other than a warm summer’s day.

Using this information alongside what you already know about your local weather patterns and climate, you should now be able to plan your purchases to avoid losing any of

the more tender plants as soon as you put them in the ground. While many tender and half-hardy plants can be used to great effect in gardens, it is vitally important that they are planted at the right time of year in order to ensure their survival. Depending on where in the country you are, a little bit of patience may be necessary. Unless you live in the southwest of England, where the weather gods might just be on your side, late frosts are likely to feature in your local weather forecasts throughout March and much of April— possibly extending into the first few weeks of May, depending on how far inland, north or up a hill you live. If you live in Braemar, for example, you may wish to hold off until June.

For those who can’t wait and are eager for something new to plant now, allow me to suggest Dog’s-Tooth Violets (Erythronium spp.). Erythroniums are some of the most refined and graceful spring bulbs that you can plant, and yet they remain considerably less well known than the ever popular Crocuses (C. spp.), Daffodils (Narcissus spp.) and Tulips (Tulipa spp.). They are often sold as bulbs in summer, but you can also find them potted at this time of year, ready to be planted out in a good, deep, humus-rich soil in light shade. I find that they work extremely well as filler plants, positioned between other perennials that don’t get going until later on in the season. Choose neighbours that won’t swamp them entirely, keep them watered during dry spells, and your Erythroniums should be very happy. Some excellent varieties to look out for include the diminutive Erythronium dens-canis ‘Snowflake’, with its heavily spotted leaves and jazzy blue pollen, the tall and stately E. californicum ‘White Beauty’ (pictured), or, for a bit more punch, E. ‘Sundisc’, which holds its golden-yellow flowers high over its heavily mottled and almost reptilian looking foliage.

All are fine garden plants and reliable H5s.

I appreciate that not everyone will be as keen on braving the outdoors just yet, so let us now turn our attention indoors. Those of you who have already caught the houseplant bug will shortly find that your own private jungle is beginning to wake up from its winter slumber, 29

vi: Sage Advice such as fungus gnats, which may have overwintered in the old compost.

ready for a new season of growth. In anticipation of this, March is a good time to carry out a bit of spring cleaning and some repotting, to ensure that your plants are in top condition and continue to thrive. If it’s time to re-pot, then don’t be tempted to increase the pot size too dramatically. Using a pot that is too large— ‘over-potting’, as it is known —will leave your plant swimming in a sea of compost that is too vast for the plant’s root system to adequately colonise. As a result, the compost will sit wetter for longer after watering, which can lead to root rot and a general decline in the plant’s health. This is something that is important to keep in mind when potting outdoor plants, as well as house plants. If your plant has been sitting in its pot for a few years, then the chances are that the compost it has been growing in will have degraded over time. If this is the case, then I would recommend trying to loosen and dispose of some of this older compost before re-potting, replenishing what you have removed with fresh potting mix. Refreshing the growing medium in this way provides the maximum level of benefit to the plant by promoting better root health and providing fresh nutrients, while having the added bonus of reducing the populations of soil-borne pests 30

You can now turn your attention to sprucing up the top growth of the plant, cleaning leaves and removing anything that has died back over the winter. Rather than spending hours wiping down each individual leaf with a damp cloth, I save time by piling all of my houseplants (with the exception of Cacti and other succulents) into my shower tray before spraying them all down on low to medium power with cool water. Allow the pots to drain fully before returning them to their shelves and windowsills, so that they’re not sitting with too much water in their drip trays for the next few weeks. If you have reduced your watering schedule through the winter then it won’t be long now before you can start to increase this again. Assuming that the trip to the shower was their first drink for a few weeks, watering once a fortnight for the time being should be adequate— and, if you want to give things an early season boost, consider giving your plants their first feed of the season with an appropriate plant food when they are next due to be watered.

On the subject of Cacti and succulents, which generally should have been kept pretty dry and in as bright a location as possible through the winter, you can now give them a little dribble of water to whet their appetite at the very start of their growing season. This small amount will be sufficient to keep them going for another month without causing them to grow into weird and deformed shapes, which can occur if you overwater through the colder, darker months. With that, your gardening spring clean is complete.

Image E. californicum ‘White Beauty’, copyright Callum Halstead

vi: The Climate Column

Stung into action Patrick Dunne As we emerge from winter (although some days it doesn't feel like it), we may ask ourselves how to make the most of the light and energy that grows each day. How can we emerge fruitfully from the hibernation of winter, while allowing ourselves compassion if we were dormant in our activism during the darkness of December and January? The modern world demands productivity: eight hours a day, five days a week is the standard irrespective of the time of year, but how many among us are doing unpaid and unaccounted for labour for children, parents, partners or neighbours on top of their official ‘work’, and how many are underemployed or in fragile employment without the benefits, structure or even the dignity supposedly imparted by regular employment? How can we recognise the value and rhythms of ‘fruitfulness’ over ‘productivity’? Can we allow ourselves to grow and emerge in spring, bask in summer, shed in autumn, and rest in winter? Are we of the cycles of the earth, or are we of the windowless factory— a piston hammering day and night under artificial lights?

This is by way of recognising my own struggles coping with the demands of ‘what I should be doing’. We cannot fight every minute of every day. It cannot be sustained. It should not be sustained. How does the out-of-season fruit taste? How fresh and vibrant are spring bulbs that emerge in their own moment, compared to those that are demanded year-round by capitalism and consumption?

Nettles appear when they will. They are a sign of reclamation of damaged earth. Edible, useful, beautiful, productive. A bounty of nutrition, and a stinging encounter to the incautious. A haven for butterflies and a relentless blessing in a garden. An eruption beyond our control in every corner of the land.

Fruitful and emergent in the warming conditions of spring.

So we must be in our climate activism.

Emerging in conditions that allow us to flourish and be plentiful, beneficial to our ecosystem. This is a signifier of community health, an impetus to interconnection, inclusion and mutual benefit. I love the folk that have kept the Zoom calls going over the winter, the newsletters and the updates sent out. They have prepared the soil for the mass emergence of shoots— the protests, campaigns and actions that need to take place this year.

The British Government has approved a new oil field (Ambrose, 2022). Shell and BP are due to announce giant profits, even as the British public faces a drop in standards of living due to the spike in heating costs (Kollewe, 2022).

We have a government that is promising its right wing a dilution of an already poor Net Zero policy, so as to help shore up a collapsing administration beset by scandal (Webber, Whale and Mathieson, 2022). It is bleak. But shoots emerge in spring, and there is a local group, action or campaign near you today that would welcome whatever energy or activity you can give. Or perhaps you yourself will start a campaign— for your local woodland, against your local oil pipeline, or for your local elected representative.

Fresh Nettles can both nourish and sting. They are abundant, and they are to be celebrated.

References Ambrose, J. (2022) ‘North Sea Abigail oilfield plan approved despite climate goals’ in The Guardian, 1st February 2022, www.theguardian.com/environment Kollewe, J. (2022). ‘BP profits hit eight-year high thanks to soaring gas and oil prices’ in The Guardian, 8th February 2022, www.theguardian.com/business Webber, E., Whale, S. and Mathieson, K. (2022) ‘Fears Partygate could kill off UK’s net zero plans’ in Politico, 3rd February 2022, www.politico.eu 31

Sheila Masson Underwater

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vii: In Focus

The pardoning of witches Marianne Hughes From the late 1500s through to 1727, around four thousand Scottish people were accused of witchcraft. 85% of them were women. Over two and a half thousand of them were executed.

In the USA, during the Salem witch trials of 1692-93, over two hundred people were accused, thirty found guilty and nineteen executed (fifteen women and four men).

These so-called witches were pardoned in 2001, in Massachusetts. Even though their trials took place a century after those in Scotland, there has been no pardon, no apology, and no national memorial for those who were executed in Scotland for crimes they did not commit.

A campaign, launched on International Women’s Day (March 8th) 2020, argued that a pardon was important because it was legal process that allowed the prosecution, trial, sentencing and execution of women and men for witchcraft.

In 1561, an eighteen-year-old Mary returned to Scotland from exile in France, to take up her rightful position as Queen. With her, she brought the herb Alexanders (Smyrnium olusatrum) which she planted (or had planted) at Craigmillar Castle, Edinburgh— where it can still be seen to this day. This was, perhaps, one of a number of herbs she brought with her. Alexanders is a fully hardy, bitter diuretic with benefits for digestion, once also used for asthma, menstrual problems, and wounds (Bown, 2008). At the time, the use of herbs for culinary and medicinal purposes was part of ordinary life and, for poorer people, would have been the only source of healing. The power of healing, and the question of who exercised this power, became a focus of attention at the same time as Mary’s arrival back in Scotland.

The Protestant Reformation was in full swing and, as a Catholic Queen, Mary had a fine line to walk between turbulent religious, political, and land-owning factions as well as dealing with threats of war and famine. She was also under pressure to produce a male heir and, like many women of her day, was subject to speculation as to the father of her child. So, in addition to the pressures created by the Reformation, there were at least two other forces at work which impacted on the development and implementation of the Scottish Witchcraft Act of 1563: the rise of the male-dominated medical profession and its impact on folk healers, who were mostly women; and the spread of Enlightenment ideas, particularly Descartes’ new dichotomy of mind and body (‘I think, therefore I am’).

There is little historical evidence to suggest the prevalence of any belief system other than Christianity at this time. The Reformation Parliament had, since around 1560, developed the Book of Discipline, dictating how Protestants should behave in order to achieve godliness. The Catholic faith was not considered ‘true’. Indeed, it was suggested that Catholics engaged in ‘magical’ practices, which did not accord with ‘God’s law’ and could, therefore, only be ascribed to the Devil.

This ‘binary mindset that framed everything as a clash of absolutes’ (Mina, 2022) is likely to have strongly underpinned Parliament’s debating, in December 1562, of the Scottish Witchcraft Act. It was passed on June 4th, 1563. As Goodare (2005) comments: The Scottish Witchcraft Act was the product of a new and inexperienced Protestant regime. Once the system of kirk sessions was established in Scotland, the church authorities could monitor their parishioners’ delinquencies in a minute detail that would have been the envy of English Puritans.

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vii: In Focus The Big Brother-type surveillance that followed allowed ideas of ‘ungodliness’ to be attached to anything at all. For example, the idea grew that there was a ‘devil’s mark’ that would be visible on any witch’s skin. As scars, skin irregularities or similar marks were more likely to grace older women, it was often poorer, single, older women who were targeted as a result (more than 50% of accused women were over the age of forty).

The incitement to punishment and persecution of witches led, among other practises, to ‘witch-pricking’. In Scotland, witch-prickers would travel to towns and villages offering to ‘unmask’ witches. Women who had businesses also tended to be targeted; their independence gave them power and they were often accused by those who disagreed with them or held grudges against them. Goodare (2005) notes: By the use of power against unorthodoxy, witch-hunting did much to point ordinary people towards orthodoxy (one that operated within a framework of Protestantism).

Mary Queen of Scots’ son, later James VI of Scotland and James I of England and Ireland, was removed from her as a child and raised as a Protestant. From the age of seven, his views were heavily influenced by John Knox, who had frequently harangued Mary. Knox, a Scottish minister and theologian, was misogynistic and anti-Catholic, and held considerable power in Scotland. From 1454 onwards, the adoption of the printing press throughout the western world had given rise to a new form of ‘social media’. As in our own times, this was used to spread propaganda, misinformation, and to seed fear. James would later publish a best-selling treatise— Daemonologie (1597) — on demons, magic, and signs of witchcraft. Even before this publication, in 1590, James had accused women in North Berwick of using witchcraft to delay the ship transporting his Danish bride, Anne— leading to one of Scotland’s first major witch-hunts (Fagan, 2022).

Yet James also spent time at Falkland Palace, Fife, where John Parkinson worked as his 34

apothecary. As a result of this patronage, Parkinson was able to publish his work on herbal medicine, gaining status as an author and an apothecary. James supported Parkinson in founding The Worshipful Society of Apothecaries in 1617 (apothecaries were precursors to pharmacists). The formalising of power through the Society ran in parallel with the evolution of another powerful group of men who, throughout the 1600s, applied for a Royal Charter. This was granted in 1681, and The Royal College of Physicians was formed in Edinburgh. By the late 1600s, therapeutic practices— of obstetrics in particular —had begun to pass from the hands of local women and monks who tended physic gardens, into the hands of Physicians (who did not allow women to enter the profession). Coupled with the spread of Enlightenment thinking— divorcing mind, body, and spirit/emotions — these developments began to profoundly shift how people were viewed and treated when they fell ill. The policing of women’s bodies and behaviours shifted fundamentally, reaching extremes during the Scottish witchcraft trials.

Lest we become complacent, Chollet (2022) reminds us that the trend continues to this day. She cites our cult of youth, the widespread use of cosmetic surgery, and the lack of value placed on the experience of older women; pressures relating to reproduction and the resurgence of antiabortion movements (particularly in the Evangelical churches of the USA); and the continued use of violence to suppress and oppress women. As with many movements for change, such as Black Lives Matter and #MeToo, it seems any gains must be continually defended and the campaign for genuine equality remains apposite.

So, supporting the campaign to remember and honour those women and men falsely accused of witchcraft, tortured, and executed in Scotland is perhaps not so retrospective, after all. They were just folk, like us.

vii: In Focus

Image The sundial memorial for those executed for witchcraft, Orkney. Inscription: They were just folk.

References Bown, D. (2008) Encyclopaedia of Herbs.

Royal Horticultural Society, Dorling Kindersley: London Chollet, M., (2022) In Defence of Witches: Why women are still on trial. Picador: London Fagan, J. (2022) Hex: Darkland Tales. Birlinn: Edinburgh Goodare, J. (2005) The Scottish Witchcraft Act, www.cambridge.org/core [accessed 9.1.2022] Mina, D. (2022) Rizzio. Birlinn: Edinburgh McGreevy, N. (2022) ‘Scotland considers Pardon for Thousands of Accused ‘Witches’, in Smithsonian Magazine, Jan 6th See also: The Life and Afterlife of Mary Queen of Scots: www.futurelearn.com Witches of Scotland podcast www.witchesofscotland.com/podcast 35

Sheila Masson Waterpolo I

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viii: Foraging through Folklore

Loud actions and unspoken Nettles Ella Leith Dragged out on winter walks as a kid, whenever I complained of cold my dad would turn to me, a twinkle in his eye, and offer to throw me into a patch of Nettles (Urtica dioica). “That’ll warm you right up!” he’d say, advancing with open arms, and I’d shriek with gleeful horror and race off. It worked, too— running away from a Nettle bath was at least as warming as the burning sensation of the stings themselves, just as I suspect that the effectiveness of Dock leaves (Rumex obtusifolius) as a remedy for Nettle stings is partly down to the distraction of hunting for them.

My dad never did follow through on his Nettle bath threat, but ‘nettling’ or ‘nettle tickling’ has a long history as a playful punishment, usually between children. In the Midlands each year on 29th May, Peter Opie observed children ‘of about nine or ten years old running after one of their playmates and thrashing the urchin's bare knees with stinging nettles’, a phenomenon he attributed to the fact that ‘three hundred and two years ago a king climbed up an oak tree’ (1954:149). This is because 29th May was known as Oak and

Nettle Day; the day ascribed to honouring Charles II’s escape from the Roundheads by hiding in an Oak tree (Quercus robur). Failure to honour Oak and Nettle Day was once a punishable offence. A nineteenth-century observer describes it thus: The rising generation sally out in the morning, their caps and buttonholes adorned with sprigs of oak. They also provide themselves with a bunch of nettles. They request all persons whom they meet with “to show your oak.”...Supposing they are unprovided with the necessary sprig or leaf their face, neck, and hands are well “nettled”. When punishment has been bestowed for disloyalty, a slip of oak is presented to the offending party, who is thus provided with protection from the next gang of youths and lads they meet (‘E.’, 1884:381).

The ritual had an ‘abrupt, authoritarian conclusion at twelve noon’ (Opie, 1954:149), so those with anti-royalist sympathies could consider taking a long lie-in that morning.

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vii: viii:Foraging Foragingthrough throughFolklore Folklore Nettles were not only used to punish republicanism; they were also employed to pique friends and lovers. In Cork, Ireland, Nettlemas was a byname for May Day, and on Nettlemas Night (30th April): boys parade the streets with large bunches of nettles, stinging their playmates, and occasionally bestowing a sly touch upon strangers who come in their way. Young and merry maidens, too, not unfrequently avail themselves of the privilege to “sting” their lovers; and the laughter in the street is often echoed in the drawing-room (Hall and Hall, 1841:25).

May was the Nettle’s folklorically significant month: Sutherland (2020:4) recounts an Irish belief that ‘if you eat three meals containing nettles in May, ...you will not be sick for the rest of the year’, and that Nettles were believed to be ‘unfit to eat after the month of May due to the Devil using them to make a shirt’— although, as she notes, they are tougher and less palatable by late spring, so you probably don’t need that excuse.

The making of shirts from Nettles is not just the Devil’s purview, but a motif found in international folk-tale type 451, generically called The Brothers Who Were Turned into Birds (and retold here in Botanica Fabula).

Depending on the version, three, six, seven, eleven or twelve brothers are turned into swans, ravens, geese, storks, ducks or peacocks; to lift the spell, their sister must make them shirts from Nettle, Thistledown (Onopordum spp.), Aster (A. spp), or Starflower (Borago officinalis or Lysimachia europaea). Nettles and Thistles can be painful to handle, making the sister’s task all the more arduous; moreover, it is often specified that she must collect the plants from a graveyard at midnight, placing her at risk of suspicion from which she cannot defend herself— the magic stipulates that she must maintain total silence until the shirts are completed: 38

And if a single word were to come from your mouth, all your work would be lost. (The Six Swans, Germany) It is just as she is about to be burnt as a witch that she at last manages to throw the shirts over her brothers and lift the enchantment— although one brother is left with a wing instead of an arm, since his shirt was unfinished.

Some people are a bit ambivalent about this tale with its mute, suffering heroine; as Langrish (2019) observes, ‘silent endurance for the sake of another makes modern readers uncomfortable. We want our heroines to be kick-ass, not passive.’ But, she asks, How passive is this behaviour, really?

Considering how many women are still carers of one sort or another, it’s worth asking ourselves if, discovering courage in determined, even obstinate endurance, fairy tales recognise something we have forgotten to value (ibid.).

Ayers (2020) calls it ‘a lovely metaphor pointing us toward the unexpected ways one can make a difference in the world, even without having a “voice” in the traditional sense’, and highlights that it is the traditionally feminine acts of spinning, weaving and sewing that are framed ‘not only [as] a heroic labour of love but the deed that ultimately rescues her brothers from their plight.’

Making cloth from Nettles is not merely the stuff of fairy tales; Nettle fabric dating from the Bronze Age has been found in Denmark, and Nettle cloth can be made in ‘a variety of textures, from silky and fine to coarse and thick’ (Srivastava and Rastogi, 2018:282). The etymology of ‘Nettle’ is suggestive of its use as a textile: some claim the word is derived from the Anglo-Saxon naedl (needle), but it is more likely to come from the Proto-IndoEuropean root *ned- (to bind or tie), along with netting, network and noose (etymonline.com), as its fibres have long been used to make cordage and fishing nets as well

viii: Foraging through Folklore as cloth (Srivastava and Rastogi, 2018:282). It is eminently versatile, but often disparaged, as remarked on by Scots poet Thomas Campbell in a letter to an English acquaintance: Your English prejudice perhaps, will exclaim, “is not the nettle a weed, if possible, more vile than even your Scottish thistle?” But be not nettled, my friend, at my praise of this useful weed. In Scotland I have eaten nettles; I have slept in nettle-sheets, and I have dined off a nettle-tablecloth (1837:150).

As a once ubiquitous fabric, perhaps ‘the tales that tell of silenced princesses stinging their hands as they pick and spin nettles...have been remembered by people who knew that nettles could be made into fabric, but not exactly how’ (Close-Hainsworth, 2017).

Similarly, the vow of silence in the story of the Nettle shirts may allude to an aspect of plantlore linked to medicine. ‘Unspoken plants’— that is, plants gathered, prepared and used in total silence —were believed to retain a particular healing power; similarly, ‘unspoken water’ would be used for ritual purposes (Logan, 1833). Although the burden of silence was usually placed on the person doing the herb gathering, in some traditions the magic was more subject to chance— the gatherer could speak, but must not be spoken to. A story from Angus tells of a poorly local man, Geordie Tamson, who was prescribed Nettle kail (Nettles cooked as greens), which was to be made with unspoken Nettles collected at midnight (Gregor, 1884). Geordie’s friends went to the Red Kirkyard of Portlethen to collect the plants, but heard whispering from behind the church wall. Realising that they were about to be accosted by the brothers of a recently buried man, who were guarding his corpse against body-snatchers (‘resurrection folk’), and concerned that their labour would be ‘lost and the herb...useless as medicine’, they called out:

“Dinna spyke [don’t speak], dinna spyke. ...We're nae resurrection fouk; we're fae Cairngrassie, come tae gaither unspoken nettles tae mak Geordie Tamson better. Dinna spyke then: for God's sake, dinna spyke, or ye’ll spilt a’ [spoil all].” (ibid:378) With Nettles, then, actions speak louder than words. Indeed, Nettles themselves invite firm action, as Aesop tells us in his fable, The Boy and the Nettle: A Boy, stung by a Nettle, ran home crying, to get his mother to blow on the hurt and kiss it.

“Son," said the Boy’s mother, when she had comforted him, “the next time you come near a Nettle, grasp it firmly, and it will be as soft as silk.”

(1919:89) Whatever you do, Aesop concludes, do it with all your might. To which I would add, don’t let perfectionism or the fear of failure stay your hand— your brother will be left with a wing for an arm, despite your best efforts, but at least he’s no longer a bird.

References Aesop (1919), The Æsop for Children. Rand McNally and Company: Chicago Ayers, R. (2020) ‘Five Retellings of “The Wild Swans” — A Fairy Tale for Our Current Moment’ Tor.com, 20/08/2020: www.tor.com [accessed 07/02/22] Campbell, T. (1837) Letters from the South. H. Colburn: London Close-Hainsworth, F. (2017) ‘Spinning a Tale: Spinning and Weaving in Myths and Legends’, blog for Folklore Thursday (22/06/17): folklorethursday.com/folklife [accessed 07/02/22] ‘E.’ (1884) ‘Notes and Queries: Oak and Nettle Day in Nottinghamshire’ in The Folk-Lore Journal, 2(1): 381-382 etymonline.com, Online Etymological Dictionary [accessed 07/02/22]

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viii: Foraging through Folklore Gregor, G. (1884) ‘Notes and Queries: Unspoken Nettles’ in The Folk-Lore Journal, 2(1): 377-378 Hall, Mr. S.C. and Hall, Mrs. (1841) Ireland: Its Scenery, Character, etc. How and Parsons: London Langrish, K. (2019) ‘Bold Sisters in Fairy Tale Families’, blog for Folklore Thursday (08/08/19): folklorethursday.com/folktales [accessed 01/02/22] Logan, (1833) The Scotish Gaël, Or, Celtic Manners: As Preserved Among the Highlanders, Marsh, Capen and Lyon: Boston Opie, P, (1954) England, the Great Undiscovered, in Folklore, 65(3-4): 149-164 Srivastava, N. and Rastogi, D. (2018) ‘Nettle fiber: Himalayan wonder with extraordinary textile properties’ in International Journal of Home Science, 4(1): 281-285 Sutherland, E. (2020) ‘Nettle tales: the folklore of nettles’, resource for Páirc Náisiúnta Shléibhte Chill Mhantáin, wicklowmountainsnationalpark.ie/wpcontent/uploads [accessed 07/02/22] Versions of The Brothers Who Were Turned into Birds can be found at: sites.pitt.edu/~dash/type0451.html

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Cloth of Nettle Amanda Edmiston Spring is beckoning, so on our country walks it’s now necessary to avoid a brush with the Noedl, the Naughty Man's Plaything, Scaddie, Hoky-poky, Devil's Leaf, Heg-beg, Stingers... that is, Nettles. If one does nick your ankles, just remember: instead of letting its sting bother you, grasp the Nettle. We can steel ourselves with Nettle's iron.

Seek them out and gather a handful of new leaves to add to potage. Watch how they reclaim neglected sites— healing our waste, turning middens into minerals. They offer relief from allergies to pollen, and perhaps to feathers... It's time to enjoy the power of the fortifying Nettle, giving us the strength to complete the most arduous task...

As the birds flew southwards for the winter, a Queen sat spinning in a castle tower. No Nettle fibres like the peasants wore blended with wool, but the finest silk from far away. Her seven young sons played in the gardens far below; she watched them happily, but still she wished for a daughter. Her musing made her miss with her needle and prick her finger— she gasped and watched as the blood fell, drop by drop, crimson onto the snow-white silk. A spell began to form, with no intention to mark it— and an incantation, time worn, story-formed, fell from her lips: “How I wish I had a daughter; I would give every drop of blood I have ever shed for a daughter.”

A rustling like a whisper of feathers drew her attention away from the window and her work, and she turned to look to the back of the room. From out of the corner stepped a woman, long grey hair like feathers stretching down her back.

“A daughter you will receive, but your sons pay the price. As twelve years pass, the bill will need reckoning,” the woman muttered, her voice crackling with lack of use.

The Queen, fearing for her sons, tried to retract her wish. But the only reply the woman gave was that once the blood had spilt and the feather had fallen, it would take more than words to change the future. She faded back into the corner, leaving only a long grey feather behind.

Nine months passed and a daughter was born to the Queen. Every day she watched for the greyhaired woman, but she never saw her again. Everyone loved the baby girl; her brothers played with her and sang her rhymes, and all seemed well in the world.

As the princess reached her twelfth birthday, the royal family took measures to double the protection on their sons. The princes were ushered into the safest room in the palace, with just one window too high for any man to reach, a strong Oak door, and Rowan berries for protection draped over the lintel. As midnight struck, it seemed that the sons had escaped harm— but then the daughter was awoken by the eerie cry of swans and a cool draught as wings passed her window. Her parents unlocked the heavy Oak door and found the high window ajar and their sons gone, a solitary grey feather lying on the floor.

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All in the palace went into a state of shock. The princess begged her parents every year to allow her to go in search of her brothers. Finally, after six years of pleading, they gave their blessing and she left to find out what had become of them. She travelled for months and eventually came to a lake on the edge of the kingdom, where she found a hut made of twigs and moss. Stood in the doorway was an old woman, hair like long grey feathers stretching down her back. The princess asked for news of her brothers and was told to cast her eyes to the lake. There, seven swans glided ghostlike— her brothers, held in an enchantment. One still wore a golden chain, gifted by her many years before.

There was a way to help them, the old woman murmured. The girl must gather Nettles, weave and sew, create seven shirts, one for each brother, but as she did so she must not utter a single noise.

The girl made her way down to the lake. There the swans gathered around her, watching as she wove and stitched every Nettle she could find into cloth. Once she slept, the swans gathered her up in her first length of cloth and flew with her to an island in the centre of the lake. When the girl awoke, she discovered her brothers were human once more. They all asked her questions, but no noise did she make. They gathered around her and told their tale, of their transformation into swans, how every evening, here, they became men for a few short hours, ending at first light. She listened but made no sound, hands weaving all the while. And there she stayed, guarded by her swan brothers, mute to the world, gathering armfuls of Nettles that blistered and stung her hands. She never complained, never spoke, never wept.

The months went by and, as is the way in stories of enchantment, someone saw her and was struck by her beauty. Her perseverance had struck the heart of son of the laird of the island. He couldn’t stop thinking about her, found the courage to speak to her, and the pair found ways to talk together using gestures and signs. He told her stories as she kept on weaving and sewing to save her brothers. As autumn blew in the laird's son persuaded the girl to come and continue her work in his castle, bidding his men to carry carefully all her Nettle cloth. She made it her new home, and was as well-loved in it as she had been in her old one.

With just one exception. One figure did not marvel at her sewing; one person was calculating, cold and angry. The laird’s wife raged that her son had fallen for a mute— and she suspected a spell, as she was herself well-versed in magic and mayhem. She hated the girl and tried everything in her power to make her son see the worst in her. She tried to starve the young woman, but fortified by her Nettles she kept on weaving. The laird’s wife tried dark and dreadful spells, but none of the intended horrors befell the young couple. So the laird’s wife started to watch over the young woman all day and all night.

Eventually the girl had harvested every Nettle she could find, but there was one place she knew they grew better than any other: they flourished in the churchyard, amid the decaying bodies. Driven by need, she turned to the kirk as night fell. She was followed by the laird’s wife.

In those days it was said that only one type of creature circled the homes of the dead at night— witches, whose work was to grab macabre souvenirs, fragments of corpses to aid and power their ill deeds. Only witches, it was claimed, gathered round freshly dug graves as stars twinkled overhead.

Silently, the girl haunted the kirk-yard, gathering armfuls of Nettles as the witches circled widdershins and her lover's mother kept watch.

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The mother seized her moment: it was the only way to beat her son's affliction. The witch-pricker was called, a man well versed in the piercing of skin, but as he stabbed with his needle still the girl didn’t cry out, still her hands worked over her Nettles— no noise, just a flurry of activity, sewing quickly, nearing the task’s end. The witch-pricker knew his job was in the laird’s wife's pay, and the silence of the princess was confession enough. She was to be burned as a witch. As the fire was built, she kept on sewing— only one shirt left to go.

As she was sent to the stake, her Nettle shirts went too; no one dared touch them, so they let her carry her own handiwork, her hands still moving as she hastily sewed the last sleeve on the last shirt.

Her man cried out as his mother's guards held him back, screaming that she was innocent, but the flames licked up her ankles. The chill coursed up her legs as the flesh burnt in sweet-smelling agony, yet she still made no sound, lifting the shirts higher. Then, a rustle of feathers— she saw the swans circling and threw each shirt in turn to slip over each of the birds’ necks. Seven princes stood tall.

As the flames leapt higher, their sister found her voice and screamed to the man she now loved, protesting her innocence. The presence of the legendary missing princes proved her claim, and she was rescued at last as the flames blackened her thighs. But as she was lifted from the flames, one of the Nettle shirts, the last she’d made, started to tear. The sleeve of the youngest brother's shirt fell quite away, leaving him with a swan's wing— a memory of the enchantment for ever after.

The brothers and their sister returned to their kingdom and joy returned to the land. The princess and the laird’s son were finally wed, and as for his mother... well. Surely you know what happened to witches in those days...

The story of The Wild Swans has variants all around the world, just as Nettles grow profusely in nearly every country on earth.

References This version of The Wild Swans by Amanda Edmiston can be heard on her podcast: anchor.fm/amanda-edmiston/episodes/Wild-Swans-and-Cloth-of-Nettle-e10mdfv

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viii: Nine Arches Press presents...

Lewis Buxton From Boy in Various Poses

Boys Do Push Ups their bodies low to the earth like beetles, arms splayed pushing themselves up. One boy trembles but follows his routine, every day, the calendar setting out the weeks till summer, his hands knowing the psalm the body must say to be presentable. He imagines his biceps turning to pipe organs, the neat pews of his abdomen. The rugby coach in his brain shouts at him to go all the way to the ground and back up again.

Even though he is ten years past that, he still knows exactly how to kneel, how to stretch his legs to plank behind him, to slowly lift, and then press down, his head nudging the floor as if praying.

.

Lewis Buxton was born in 1993 and is a poet, performer and arts producer. His poems have appeared in The Rialto, Magma, Ambit and Oxford Poetry. In 2018 he received the UEA Literary Festival Bursary and was named one of The Poetry School and Nine Arches Press’ Primers Volume Four poets. He is Director of the poetry project, TOAST and teaches writing in schools and libraries around the country. He currently lives in Norfolk. Boy in Various Poses is his first collection.

Nine Arches Press has over one hundred poetry publications, with titles shortlisted for prizes including 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.

Boy in Various Poses is available from ninearchespress.com/publications/poetry-collections

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Sheila Masson Gay Pride Muscles

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ix: Book Club

Ireland’s Hidden Medicine (Kingston, Rosarie; Aeon Books, 2021) Reviewer: Stuart Milligan Having grown up hearing tales of the folklore of rural Ireland (my mother was from Co Mayo) and having been an enthusiastic advocate of holistic practice throughout my career in healthcare, I approached this book with eager anticipation. With increasing disillusionment over the modern ‘rat-race’ and growing concerns about the disjoint between humankind and our environment, there could scarcely be a better time for society to review, rediscover and reconnect with the wisdom and practices of our forebears, who were so much more in touch with the rhythms, cycles and transcendent mysteries of the natural world than we are. In this context, Rosarie Kingston’s book would appear to have come along at an ideal time.

The book begins with a critique of medical practice, contrasting what we have come to know as ‘orthodox’ medicine with the range of practices gathered under the umbrella term of ‘indigenous’ medicine. It then goes on to provide a highly detailed and systematic review of the history of indigenous medicine in Ireland. A short chapter on developments in the 19th and 20th centuries follows, before what I found to be the most interesting and useful section: the ways in which Irish indigenous medicine can be used today. The book finishes with a highly impressive bibliography containing 264 entries.

In her early chapters, the author systematically critiques a substantial amount of material and presents a comprehensive overview of the history of both biomedicine and indigenous medicine. There are references to classical texts, legal tracts, medical manuscripts and herbals from Ireland and around the world, including the teachings of Ancient Greece and Ayurvedic medicine. As well as these more conventional sources, the author draws heavily on folklore and legends. There are 46

fascinating insights into ancient Irish history, the roles played by doctors and other healers down the centuries, and the emergence of the hereditary medical families. Topics I found particularly interesting were the historic role of the practitioner of Irish indigenous medicine (a ‘person with a cure’), the importance of sacred spaces, and the often intangible but powerful influences of Irish mythology and Celtic Christianity.

Some parts of the early chapters may be a little over-technical for the general reader, and at times I felt I was reading the literature review of a doctoral thesis. However, it is worth persevering through these sections, as they lead on to the fascinating exploration of numerous, often first-hand, accounts of cures, charms and other practices. It is at such points that the writer’s obvious enthusiasm for the ‘knowledge stored in a community’s stories, songs, folklore, proverbs, dance, myths, cultural values and rituals’ comes through most strongly.

The later chapters develop the themes introduced earlier in the book, particularly

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focussing on ways in which an understanding of the multi-layered ethnography of Ireland (and specifically its ethno-botany) can be translated into contemporary practices which address the need for a more holistic approach to living well. Many practical suggestions are provided, and the author arranges these according to the principal milestones in the Irish calendar in order to further encourage life-enhancing connections and communions.

No doubt beyond the remit of the book, I would nevertheless have liked to have seen some discussion of ways in which elements of the other traditions which are a feature of today’s multicultural society might be incorporated into such practices. It might also have been useful to have considered how modern healthcare has already moved significantly towards a more holistic model which is no longer exclusively biomedical.

In summary, I believe the author has provided a detailed and comprehensive synthesis of current thinking on the history and development of Irish traditional medicine, and has brought that synthesis up to date through a wealth of practical suggestions and ideas.

Numerous, thought-proving insights have been shared, not least the finding that ‘people with a cure’ are still present and active in Irish society, although they may be hiding in plain sight.

Readers of Herbology News can receive a 20% discount when they buy Ireland’s Hidden Medicine from www.aeonbooks.co.uk. Simply apply the code IH20 at checkout. Offer is valid until 31st March 2022.

On a personal note, whilst reading the later chapters, I found myself being reminded of the stories and traditions shared with me in my childhood. On the one hand, I was grateful for the rekindling of rarely recalled memories; on the other, sad to be reminded of the rich cultural heritage that we as individuals and as a society are losing in our headlong rush into modernity and consumerism. To this end, I found the author’s suggestions for contemporary ways to reconnect with the wisdom and practices of the past extremely helpful, and I have already tried out several of them myself.

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Notes from an Island (Jansson, T. and Pietilä, T. Trans. Thomas Teal: Sort of Books, 2021) Reviewer: Kyra Pollitt As a child, I never quite understood The Moomins. So, in later life, I couldn’t grasp why Tove Jansson, the Finnish creator of The Moomins, was quite so celebrated. That is, until Sort of Books began releasing Thomas Teal’s wonderful English translations of Jansson’s adult novels. A steady stream of new or first time English translations has been issuing forth since The Summer Book in 2003.

This classic was followed by A Winter Book (2006), Fair Play (2007), The True Deceiver (2009), Travelling Light (2010), Art in Nature (2012), Sculptor’s Daughter (2014), The Listener (2014), and Letters from Klara (2015).

And now, Notes from an Island.

Whilst none of these titles could be described as herbological per se, Jansson’s sensibility is the most fundamentally elemental I have ever encountered. In my bookcase, she now sits as queen of a canon that includes the likes of Nan Shepherd and Robin Wall Kimmerer. But don’t just take my word for it. Here’s Ali Smith, reviewing Jansson’s adult fiction for the Los Angeles Review of Books in 2014: Jansson, who spent nearly every summer of her life on the archipelagos on the Gulf of Finland, knew how to decide what was essential. Like so many boats, her stories appear small and light, but they offer passage to a vast world.

The vast world of Notes from an Island consists entirely and precisely of the ‘almost barren island of Klovharun, at the edge of the Pellinge archipelago in the Gulf of Finland’.

The book, beautifully illustrated with Tuulikki Pietilä’s copperplate etchings and wash drawings, offers some documentation of Jansson and Tuulikki’s life together after making this ‘fierce little skerry’ their home in 1963. To describe their life as close to nature would be a disservice. They are intent on 48

finding their place within nature, offering a template for a humbler and more proportionate existence.

The book is made up of scraps of diary entries and logbooks, and longer recollections that together evoke the harsh brutality and utter glory of this eccentric yet tantalisingly possible lifestyle. As the introduction explains, Jansson and Tuulikki (affectionately known as Tove and Tooti): relished the storms that would lash the granite rocks, marooning them for days, and the need to fish to supplement provisions and to collect driftwood for fires. As if to draw even closer to nature, they chose to sleep in a tent pegged to a platform on the rocks, leaving the small cabin they had built as a space to work in…

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The building of the cabin is, of course, not a straightforward undertaking. It involves much planning, many boat trips, hard labour, and the services of the wonderfully dour Brunström. On the island, every moment of survival is a triumph, every encounter with wind, wave, fish, gull or flower a thrill. Jansson relishes each with the simplicity of an artist, opening this unique perspective to her reader.

Remarkably, Tove and Tooti were in their midseventies before ‘something unforgivable happened’ and they began to foresee that the elements might overwhelm them. The seventh chapter of the book, as they matter-of-factly face their new reality, is quietly heartbreaking: We knew, too, that now was the time to give away the house. We assured each other that it was classier to move out in time, before it was forced on us, but it got a little tiresome if you said it too often.

This is a restrained, beautiful, radical, and classy book that will leave your rethinking your quality of life, the purpose of existence, and your relationship to nature.

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Sheila Masson Long Distance Swimming Training II

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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, coorganised an International Fringe event staging readings of the 2018 IPCC 1.5 Degrees Global Warming report, made lots of flat sourdough bread, and camped, marched and organised as an occasional environmental activist.

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

Claire Gormley is a graduate of Moray House School of Education and teaches biology and chemistry in Edinburgh.

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

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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

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

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xi: Contributors

Stuart Milligan initially undertook research in plant biology and obtained his PhD in 1986. He subsequently retrained as a nurse and had a thirty-four year career working in hospice care and laterally in higher education. He has published papers and book chapters on topics such as delivering spiritual care and building compassionate communities. He is an enthusiastic amateur naturalist, submitting records to national surveys of birds, mammals, invertebrates and plants.

Rose Morley qualified as a Bach Flower Registered Practitioner in February 2017, after studying the system for over two years. It was her longstanding, keen interest in alternative medicine, and her passion for flower remedies in particular, that led Rose to obtain Bach Foundation International Register (BFRP) Practitioner status. rose.morley@hotmail.co.uk

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 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

04//22: The Fresh Issue

If you’ve enjoyed these pages, be sure to catch our next issue, featuring:      

Your favourite columnists Plus, Herb of the Month: Periwinkle (Vinca major / Vinca minor) Plus, the art of Anastasiia Morozova Plus, a focus on taste Plus, taking inspiration from botanist Joan Wendoline Clark Plus, poetry from Red Squirrel Press presents…

And more….

Herbology News is grateful for the support of Senga Bate, Beth Lucas, and our other patrons.

Join them at www.patreon.com/herbologynews

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