The Merry Issue by HerbologyNews

i: Editorial

Catching the scent of summer Ella Leith Here we are in the merry, merry month of May, and there is much to enjoy: longer, warmer days; leafy vistas; the scent of sun-warmed herbs...The fragrant strewing herb, Sweet Woodruff (Galium odoratum), is Marianne Hughes’ Herb of the Month, and the central image in Isobel Dixon’s beautifully introspective poem (Nine Arches Press presents...). In Notes from the Brew Room, Ann King is making a celebratory Maibowle— a drink that evokes fond memories of merry-making for Amanda Edmiston (Botanica Fabula). Meanwhile, Our Editor in the Field has been sampling the delights of the Distillery at the Secret Herb Garden; turn to her interview with its founder, Hamish Martin, to savour its story, tastes, and fragrances. As festivities can take a toll on the system, Dora Wagner (Anthroposophical Views) advises us how best to support and sustain the liver, the body’s great detoxifier. Claire Gormley explains the liver’s role in the absorption of vitamin D from sunlight (The Chemistry Column). If you’re inspired to head outside and catch some rays, consider Callum Halstead’s call for gardening choices as gifts to the future (Sage Advice). For those wishing to stay curled up inside, we have two book recommendations: a spiritual engagement with herbology, and a novel that explores the threads connecting us across time and place (Book Club). May Day is the Celtic cross-quarter day, marking the seasonal shift into summer. This is a liminal time when, despite the festivities, tensions can surge to the fore and demand resolution (Foraging through Folklore). The constant news of political and humanitarian crises— local and global —serves as a reminder that merry days are too often short-lived and fragile; indeed, ‘merry’ has at its root a ProtoGermanic word meaning ‘short-lasting’. Deep within merriment is a subtle seriousness; you can find it in the underlying solemnity of Olga Suvorova’s opulent scenes of feast and abundance (Artist of the Month). The Editorial Team shares Olga’s horror at the actions of the current Russian government. We place our hope in the bonds of solidarity and care that bind us to one another, and call us to action. So, breathe deep, and make merry where you can. Such moments may prove fleeting, but they are all the more valuable for that. May the lengthening days bring better times to us all.

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

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

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

i: Contents

i Editorial Frontispiece Contents

Kyra Pollitt Maddy Mould

2 3 4

ii Artist of the Month

Olga Suvorova

iii Herb of the Month

Marianne Hughes, Hazel Brady

iv Anthroposophical Views Notes from the Brew Room

Dora Wagner Ann King

15 17

v Our Editor in the Field

Kyra Pollitt interviews Hamish Martin

vi Sage Advice The Chemistry Column

Callum Halstead Claire Gormley

27 30

vii Foraging Through Folklore Botanica Fabula Nine Arches Press presents…

Ella Leith Amanda Edmiston Isobel Dixon

33 36 38

Marianne Hughes reviews

viii Book Club Hex by Jenni Fagan (Birlinn/Polygon, 2022)

Forest Tuesday reviews Spiritual Herbalism by Josh Williams (Aeon Books, 2022) ix Contributors Our Patrons Looking Forward

47 52 52

Herbology News is against war

We promote PEACE, LOVE and HERBS 5

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Olga Suvorova The Annunciation

ii: Artist of the Month

Olga Suvorova www.olga-suvorova.com/en Olga Suvorova is a hugely successful Russian painter. With particularly strong religious, Byzantine, and Renaissance references, Olga’s oil paintings are vibrant and beautiful works, rich in gorgeous colours, figures, plants and wildlife. Olga’s assistant, Maria Gordusenko, provides some insights into the symbolism and features in Olga’s work, as well as sharing some of Olga’s early artistic influences: Born in Saint Petersburg, to a family of talented and respected artists, Olga spent much of her time as a child at her parents’ studio. Her father, Igor Suvorov, the Honoured Artist of the RSFSR, was Olga’s first teacher. Olga was greatly inspired by watching her mother painting flowers and fruit, but some of her own first drawings were inspired by fairy tales. These early years, surrounded by artistic inspiration, determined her future career choices; Olga went on to study painting techniques and monumental composition at the Saint Petersburg Academy of Fine Arts, at the studio of the artist Andrei Mylnikov (1919–2012). Olga’s paintings depict a universe of harmony, beauty, and colour. Her boundless imagination creates an elaborate world of images and scenes within her artworks. Her knowledge of art and various cultures and historical periods has enriched her paintings, lending charm, style and character. Olga seeks inspiration in artistic tendencies of the past, which sometimes closely relate to the artist’s personal experiences. Her interest in religious subjects, as well as in Byzantine and Renaissance stylistic motifs (notable in the artist’s numerous Annunciation scenes), relate to the history of her family. Olga’s grandfathers and great-grandfathers were theologians, archpriests, and leaders of the Russian Orthodox Church. They were persecuted during the Russian Revolution in 1917. Learning about this chapter in her family’s history had a strong impact on Olga. Examples of Byzantine and Renaissance tendencies are found in the harmonious composition and vibrant colours of The Annunciation. The Virgin Mary, wearing the red Byzantine dalmatica decorated with gemstones, appears in the composition to the viewer’s left. She is approached by glorifying angels, playing musical instruments. Olga has mastered painting texture: witness the colourful silk fabrics of their Byzantine-style brocaded costumes, lavishly decorated with gold and silver threads. The Annunciation is, in fact, one of Olga’s favourite subjects. The artist has turned to this composition several times, but each variation has been enriched with new details. However, the most significant feature of these compositions is their highly personal nature. The artist achieves this by giving her own features to the figure of the Virgin, whilst other characters often bear features of her family members. By no means should this be considered a sign of vanity. The idea of sacred identification with saints was regarded by European medieval and Renaissance artists as a way to manifest identity and express devotion (Polleross, 1988). Thus, Olga establishes connections to earlier periods by following the artistic tradition of sacred identification with saints.

In The Annunciation, Olga contemplates eternity and aims to express both joyful and dramatic feelings. The artist enriches each detail of this painting with symbolism. The dress of the Virgin Mary is red, which is the colour of the fire of faith and the passion of Christ, as well as the royal triumph of justice, and the victory of good over evil. The crucifix at the Virgin’s dress symbolises the connection between heaven and earth. The white dove represents the Holy Spirit, and the white lily is the symbol of purity. Notably, the figure of the Virgin is surrounded with roses. The rose is another symbol commonly associated with her mystical participation in the Holy Trinity as Heaven’s Rose or the Mystical Rose. In The Annunciation, the Virgin’s halo is formed of splendid roses in full bloom, recalling the motif of the enclosed garden, an ancient symbol of the Virgin’s Mary purity.

ii: Artist of the Month

represents the Holy Spirit, and the white lily is the symbol of purity. Notably, the figure of the Virgin is surrounded with roses. The rose is another symbol commonly associated with her mystical participation in the Holy Trinity as Heaven’s Rose or the Mystical Rose. In The Annunciation, the Virgin’s halo is formed of splendid roses in full bloom, recalling the motif of the enclosed garden, an ancient symbol of the Virgin’s Mary purity. As well as religious subjects, Olga is also fascinated by theatre. A series of her paintings demonstrates her profound understanding of Russian Baroque and Rococo; the symbolism of Dutch and Flemish still lifes; the art of the Pre-Raphaelites, and other artistic movements of the past. All these tendencies are creatively rethought by the artist, and form Olga’s signature style. Masterly painted nature, birds and animals, fruit and flowers are common in Olga’s paintings on theatrical subjects, such as The Promenade (or The Walk), Commedia Dell’Arte, and Enigma. These paintings combine vivid colours, gentle gradations of tones, wellstructured compositions, and an air of harmony and tranquillity. Most importantly, in these artworks, Olga perceives birds and flowers not as superficial decorative motifs, but as symbols and creations of the Supreme Mind (Fishel, 2020). A similar approach was used by the Dutch and Flemish still-life painters, who assigned symbolic meanings to every object in their artworks. In more recent years, Olga’s artistic approach has changed from an alignment with Impressionism to a much more detailed style. In her earlier floral still lifes, and scenes with ladies in the garden, Olga, like the Impressionists, focuses on the depiction of sunlight and the bright colours of the summer. In her latest artworks, the artist impresses viewers with sophisticated composition, beautiful flowers, and birds— creating dream worlds. At the same time, Olga applies realistic methods of modelling, recalling seventeenth-century Dutch and Flemish art. All these features, as well as the perfection of technical skill, make Olga Suvorova one of the most in-demand Russian painters of our time. Maria Gordusenko, PhD RakovGallery Art Director www.rakovgallery.com Olga Suvorova is officially represented, in Russia and abroad, by RakovGallery. Neither Olga Suvorova nor RakovGallery and its artists support war and terror. They believe that art has the unique power to unite people all over the world. Instagram: olgasuvorova_artist References Fishel, M. (2020) Renaissance Realm. The Art of Olga Suvorova. Shiffer Publishing: Atglen Polleross, F. (1988) Das sakrale Identifikationsporträt: ein höfischer Bildtypus vom 13. bis zum 20. Jahrhundert. Wernersche Verlagsgesellschaft: Worms Oil on canvas Other images The Annunciation Oil on canvas, 2021

ii: Artist of the Month

Cover image The Walk Oil on canvas Other images The Annunciation Oil on canvas, 2021 The Royal Hunt Oil on canvas, 2021 96 x 172cm The Abduction of Europe Oil on canvas, 2021 The Walk (variant) Oil on canvas, 2021 180 x 150cm Homage to Rembrandt (Friends) Oil on canvas The Tamer (Lady with Leopards) Oil on canvas Homage to Rembrandt, tondo Oil on metal D60cm Homage to Rembrandt, tondo Oil on metal D60 cm, detail Enigma Oil on canvas, 2021

Olga Suvorova The Royal Hunt

iii: Herb of the Month

Sweet Woodruff (Galium odoratum) Marianne Hughes, with illustration by Hazel Brady Sweet Woodruff’s Latin name, Galium odoratum, offers a clue to one of its uses. In Medieval and Elizabethan gardens, herbs were often grown for the purpose of strewing. Before beds were common, domestic stone and earth floors would be covered with dried Rushes (Juncus effusus) for insulation and softness in the sleeping area. As these coverings would only be changed once or twice a year, they accumulated dropped food, spilled drinks, mud, fleas, and anything else you’d like (or not like) to imagine. This very compostable mixture must have smelled distinctive, to say the least. Hence, from the twelfth to the sixteenth centuries, seasonally available herbs, either simply dried or in other preparation form, were often added on top of the Rushes. While many such strewing herbs were valued for their aroma, others had cleansing or pest-repellent qualities. Herbs of the genus Mentha (Mint)— particularly Pennyroyal (Mentha pulegium) —are flea and tick repellents. Sweet Woodruff also helped to repel unwanted bugs. Visiting England in 1560, Dutch traveller Levimus Leminius recorded: Their chambers and parlours strawed over with sweet herbes refreshed mee; their nosegays finely intermingled with the sundry sorts of fragaunt floures, in their bed chambers and privy rooms with comfortable smell cheered me up and entirely delygted my senses (Amherst, 1896). Nowadays, spring-cleaning may not be so necessary, nor meet with the enthusiasm of the past, but well-dried herbs continue to be domestically useful. We still place small bags of herbs under cushions, between mattress and mattress cover— where warmth and pressure help to release their aromas —and amongst our stored woollens.

Sweet Woodruff also has medicinal uses. Kenicer (2018) cites Beith’s (2004) explanation of the Gaelic name for Sweet Woodruff— lus na caithimh, meaning ‘wasting wort’ —which reflects its common application in treating ‘wasting diseases’, or respiratory infections. Our herb belongs to the Rubiaceae family, and these herbs accrue anthraquinones in their roots. The anthraquinone content provides anti-inflammatory, antibacterial and antimicrobial actions which support wound healing (Das et al, 2010; Kumar et al, 2007). The crushed leaves, which contain tannins, have also been shown to reduce swelling and accelerate wound healing when used topically. Indeed, we find Sweet Woodruff used as a remedy for wounds and cuts as far back as the Middle Ages (Grieve, 1931).

iii: Herb of the Month

Usefully, like Plantain (Plantago major), our herb is evergreen. Thus, Sweet Woodruff makes good ground cover in shady, deciduous areas. It also contains asperuloside, which produces the coumarin that gives off a sweet smell as the foliage dries. Asperuloside is an iridoid glycoside, which can be converted to prostaglandins. These are hormone-like compounds that stimulate the uterus and have an anticoagulant impact in the blood vessels. Pengelly (2004) notes that iridoid glycosides are often referred to as ‘bitters’, and are also known to stimulate the release of gastrin in the gastrointestinal tract, improving appetite and assisting pancreatic function. Bown (2008) suggests Sweet Woodruff for improving liver function, addressing bile obstruction, and treating hepatitis and jaundice. Perhaps this action explains why there are references as far back as 1554 (Dodoen, 1554) to steeping Sweet Woodruff in wine. In Germany, a popular hock cup is made by steeping fresh sprigs in Rhine wine to produce a delightful drink known as Maibowle, traditionally drunk on the first of May (Grieve 1931). Happy May Day! References Amherst, A. (2014) A History of Gardening in England. 1896 edition. Cambridge University Press: Cambridge Beith, M. (2004) Healing Threads: Traditional Medicines of the Highlands and Islands. Birlinn: Edinburgh Bown, D. (2008) Encyclopaedia of Herbs. Royal Horticultural Society, Dorling Kindersley: London Das, K.; Tiwari, R.K.S.; and Shrivastava, D.K (2010) ‘Techniques for evaluation of medicinal plant products as antimicrobial agent: Current methods and future trends’, in Journal of Medicinal Plant Research (4):104-110 Dodoens, R. (1554) Cruydeboecks. J. van der

Hoe: Antwerp Grieve, M. (1931) A Modern Herbal. Tiger Books International: London Kenicer, G.J. (2018) Scottish Plant Lore: An illustrated flora. Royal Botanic Garden: Edinburgh Kumar, B.; Vijayakumar, M.; Govindarajan, R.; and Pushpangadan, P. (2007) ‘Ethnopharmacological approaches to wound healing – exploring medicinal plants’, in Indian Journal of Ethnopharmacology (114):103-110 Pengelly, A. (2004) The Constituents of Medicinal Plants: An introduction to the chemistry and therapeutics of herbal medicine. CABI Publishing: Oxfordshire

Olga Suvorova The Abduction of Europe

iv: Anthroposophical Views

Tipsy tempers and creepy crawlies Dora Wagner O how large the liver is, humankind's sorrow dwelleth within, and how small the seat of love, only a handful of heart compared therewith. Justinus von Kerner

“What's that louse that’s crawled up your liver?” is what you are asked in Germany if you are in a bad mood. As a small child, I often wondered how a louse might get on your liver, and why the liver had any connection with your mood… In ancient times, four bodily fluids were thought to determine both health and emotions: blood, phlegm, black bile, and yellow bile. A melancholic person would be considered to have too much black bile. If one’s urine was lemon-yellow with a hint of fire, then there was certainly too much yellow bile in the body. Hot and dry qualities were attributed to this ‘humour’ and it became associated with summer, fire, and a patient prone to upset, anger, irrational behaviour, short-temperedness, and daring. Galen (129216 CE) also associated four qualities of taste to these fluids: sweet blood, salty phlegm, sour black bile, and bitter yellow bile. Bile is, of course, associated with the liver (Seiz, 2012). The liver is the largest and functionally most versatile gland of our body. At about 1.5 kg, the liver is a huge, heavy organ; a massive lump that occupies a relatively spacious area in the right side of the upper abdomen. Life without a liver is not possible. It is the central metabolic organ of the human body and fulfils a multitude of vital tasks. Together with the gall bladder, the liver converts substances supplied from outside into nutrients. It is involved in regulating our fat and sugar metabolism as well as our mineral and vitamin balance. Many vital substances such as proteins— important for blood clotting, amongst other things —are formed in this organ. As a detoxification centre, it filters harmful substances from the blood and helps

us excrete substances that are no longer useful. To do all this, the liver produces bile and passes it through the biliary ducts to our intestine, where it is involved in the digestion of fats, while at the same time supplying the digestive system with compounds that enable the transformation and absorption of food. There are no pain mechanisms in the liver, so we may not feel or sense when our liver is sick. Liver diseases can manifest themselves in disorders of the whole organism. These include skin problems, but also sleep disturbances— particularly waking around 3am, usually a time when fundamental changes in liver metabolism are taking place. Even depressive disorders and lack of energy can, in individual cases, be associated with liver dysfunction. Fatigue or difficulty concentrating are often non-specific, whilst more typical symptoms of liver disturbance— such as a yellowing of the skin and the whites of the eyes —only occur in comparatively few people. So, it is very important to take good care of your liver. In anthroposophy, the herb most readily associated with liver health is Yarrow (Achillea millefolium). The common English name may be derived from the Saxon ‘gearva’, meaning ‘completed, perfect, gorgeous’, from the Greek ‘hiera’, meaning ‘holy herb’, or the Anglo-Saxon word for ‘healer’. Found in meadows and pastures, and on roadsides, Yarrow is immediately recognisable by its distinctive leaves. Unlike a standard leaf, Yarrow leaves are incised, and the resulting feathering is continually reshaped— there is often even a third generation of pinnae —so, finally a rhythmically structured, lanceolate, 15

iv: Anthroposophical Views toothed leaflet is formed. Even the most skilful goldsmith could not shape their work more beautifully and evenly. Indeed, other plants with finely articulated leaves, such as Dill (Anethum graveolens) or Chamomile (Matricaria chamomilla) seem almost untidy in comparison. This distinctive feature informs the Latin binomial ‘millefolium’, meaning ‘thousand-leaved’, and explains another of the plant’s many common names, Eyebrow of Venus. Early in the growing season, these leaves form a rosette on the ground, nourished by a horizontally-growing root. Out of this base will grow a stem, up to sixty centimetres long, bearing white-looking flowers in the upper part from June to October. These flowers mislead us in two ways. At first glance, they look like umbels. However, Yarrow does not belong to the Umbelliferae, but to the Compositae family. Secondly, if we look closer at the flower heads, we will see that what looks like a single flower is actually composed of many smaller white, sometimes pink-hued florets.

The first part of this plant’s botanical name, Achillea, refers to Achilles, the legendary hero of the Trojan War. The legend has it that, on the advice of a wise centaur, Achilles applied Yarrow to the wounds of his friend, Telemachos, and the plant staunched his bleeding at once. Indeed, the Goddess of Love herself is said to have applied Yarrow to Achilles' famously injured heel. This powerful medicinal plant carries a myriad of local, common names. In Germany, these include ‘Bauchwehkraut’ (Bellyachewort), ‘Wundkraut’ (Woundwort), ‘Fauendank’ (Woman's Thanks), ‘Gesundheilkraut’ (Health-herb), and ‘Heil aller Welt Kraut’ (Healing-all-the-world-wort). The observation that sick sheep intuitively ate Yarrow to recover underpins its most common German name, ‘Schafgarbe’ (Bäumler, 2012). Many cultures have used Yarrow for divination. The dried stalks were used in the I Ching, the Chinese Book of Changes, which became established around 1000 BC. In Europe, freshly plucked Yarrow was placed under the pillow to invoke dreams of one’s future beloved. In one tradition, to evaluate a suitor, young maidens were advised to twist a Yarrow stalk three times in their nostrils; a nosebleed indicated future happiness. Since Yarrow stalks are quite stiff and pointed, it may have been quite tricky to avoid a marriage. Yet Yarrow was also used to spurn love. If a woman wanted to tell an admirer that she loved someone else, she would send him a particular bouquet, a ‘Schabab’ (an Old German word meaning ‘to scrape off’) as a sign of rejection. Amongst other flowers, it contained Yarrow. Yarrow was also one of St. John's herbs, hung around the house, or worn, to ward off evil. Holy Thursday Soup, eaten to confer health and protection throughout the year, contained the first, young Yarrow leaves. Yarrow is a good kitchen herb. It makes fatty dishes more digestible, and salads tasty. It is also easy to forage. Yarrow grows in most wild meadows, and there are hardly any similar plants that would be poisonous. The most suitable time to harvest is in early summer, after the flowers appear. Of course, choose a

iv: Anthroposophical Views location where the plants have not been exposed to pesticides or strong emissions. Tie the stems together, hang them upside down, and simply cut or break them into small pieces before use. For Yarrow tea, one to two teaspoons of the dried herb are brewed with a cup of boiling water, covered, left to steep for ten minutes, then strained. The tea relieves cramps, detoxifies by stimulating the digestion, and has been shown to lower blood pressure (Shalizar-Jalali, 2016). A liverprotective effect against toxins such as Paracetamol has also been shown (Applequist, 2011). Applied externally, Yarrow is one of the most effective and most frequently used herbs in anthroposophical medicine. A strong tea— two heaped tablespoons to a half litre of boiling water, steeped for ten minutes —is the key ingredient of a liver poultice. To make your own, take a folded cloth that can cover the right upper abdomen a hand's breadth above and below the right costal arch. Soak it with the tea and squeeze well. Apply the cloth as hot as is comfortable. Cover with a dry cloth, and finally a woollen. If necessary, a lightly filled hot water bottle can also be placed on top. Relax, covered with a warm blanket, and allow the liver wrap to work for about thirty minutes. When you remove it, rest for at least another ten minutes. Weisser (2006) demonstrates that moist, hot, liver compresses lead to a significant increase in liver function. Hence, regular Yarrow liver wraps are used as part of a holistic treatment for cancer, particularly as it has also been

confirmed in cell culture experiments that Yarrow inhibits the growth of tumour cells (Mouhid et al, 2019; Ali et al, 2017). Yarrow liver compresses can also be helpful against other chronic diseases and states of depression and exhaustion (Soldner and Soldner, 2019). More generally, they can accompany any fasting cure, by supporting the function of our central metabolic and restorative organ. To strengthen the liver, and in cases of general fatigue, morning Yarrow compresses can be applied from twice weekly to daily. In cases of indigestion, the compress should be applied after lunch; for sleep disorders and depression, apply in the evening. Yarrow also heals the soil: it prevents diseases in neighbouring plants and, planted alongside scented herbs, it will increase the intensity of their fragrance. Therefore, Yarrow preparations and composts are promoted in bio-dynamic agriculture. Since the origins of European herbal medicine, Yarrow has represented the principle of harmony. It is considered helpful in all transitional situations, such as the transition from adolescence to adulthood. Since your adolescents might not want to drink a daily cup of Yarrow tea, you might try burning the astonishingly blue essential oil in a fragrance lamp instead.

Images: Photos by Dora Wagner. Collages by Dora Wagner, using Wikipedia Commons

iv: Anthroposophical Views References Ali, S.I.; Gopalakrishnan, B. and Venkatesalu, V. (2017) ‘Pharmacognosy, Phytochemistry and Pharmacological Properties of Achillea millefolium L.: A Review’, in Phytotherapy Research, 31(8):1140-1161 Applequist, W. (2011) ‘Yarrow (Achillea millefolium L.): A Neglected Panacea? A Review of Ethnobotany, Bioactivity, and Biomedical Research’, in Economic Botany 65(2):209-225 Bäumler, S. (2015) Heilpflanzen Praxis heute. Elsevier: München Mouhid, L.; Gómez de Cedrón, M.; GarcíaCarrascosa, E.; Reglero, G.; Fornari, T. and Ramírez de Molina, A. (2019) ‘Yarrow supercritical extract exerts antitumoral properties by targeting lipid metabolism in pancreatic cancer’, in PLoS ONE 14(3): e0214294 Seiz, P. (2012) Humoralmedizin-Grundlagen und Einsatz. Foitzick: Augsburg Shalizar-Jalali, A. (2013) ‘Yarrow as a New Weapon against Hypertension’. Accessed via researchgate.net Soldner, U. and Soldner, G. (2019) ‘Schafgarben-Leberwickel; Der Merkurstab’, in Zeitschrift für Anthroposophische Medizin 72(6) Storl, W-D. (2018) Die Unkräuter in meinem Garten. Gräfe und Unzer: München Weisser, S. (2006) ‘Effekt von Leberwickeln auf die exkretoirische Leberfunktion’, PhD thesis. University of Freiburg Wilhelm, R. (2017) I Ging – Buch der Wandlungen. Narayana Verlag: Kandern

iv:iv:Notes Notesfrom fromthe theBrew BrewRoom Room

An intoxicating fragrance Ann King When the aerial parts of Sweet Woodruff (Gallium odoratum) are dried naturally, they fill the air with the heady fragrance of hay and vanilla— a reminder and a promise of long, hot, sunny days. Sweet Woodruff contains coumarinic compounds, which are released as the plant dies down; it is these that cause the intense scent. Little wonder that this herb has a long history as a perfumery fixative. It was traditionally used in churches during festivals and holidays to mask the less pleasant smells of the swelling congregations, and in Medieval households to disguise any foul organic odours.

You may not fancy strewing dried herbs all around your home, but there’s no reason to deprive yourself of their aromas. Here in the Brew Room, we love a modern twist on an old favourite, and have created little sachets containing a combination of Pine (Pinus spp.), Larch (Larix decidua), and Sweet Woodruff, to help freshen both the linen and the boot cupboard. For naturally removing pet or other odours from your rugs and carpets, you may like to consider using a Strewing Sprinkle. Simply grind a selection of dried strewing herbs, such as Lavender (Lavandula spp.), Sage (Salvia officinalis), Rosemary (Salvia

iv: Notes from the Brew Room

rosmarinus), and Rose (Rosa spp.), and mix with an equal quantity of bicarbonate of soda. Shake sparingly on rugs and carpets, leave for fifteen minutes, and then vacuum as normal.

Canapés with Bitter Liver Pickle Adapted from Glennie Kindred’s recipe in Letting in the Wild Edges (Permanent Publications, 2013).

In honour of Beltane and May Day, it is timely to mention the traditional May wine drunk in Germany and Belgium. Known as Maiwein, Maibowle, or Waldmeisterbowle, this alcoholic beverage has been brewed since at least 900 CE, and is drunk to herald the shift from spring to summer. John Gerard (1545– 1612) claimed that adding the pretty Sweet Woodruff to wine would ‘make a man merrie’, and our recipe certainly does that. The inclusion of Wild Strawberries (Fragaria vesca) adds to the merriment, and also restores balance— we love them both for their exquisite taste, and their liver-cleansing properties. To accompany this delicious aperitif, we suggest cleansing, nutritive, and delicious canapés.

One handful of young Dandelion leaves (Taraxacum officinale), to cleanse the liver One handful of Common Sorrel (Rumex acetosa), for its tangy taste and stimulating action One handful of Parsley (Petroselinum crispum), for its antioxidants and nutritive punch ½ handful of Garlic Mustard (Alliaria petiolata), for flavour ½ tsp crushed Fennel seeds (Foeniculum vulgare), for their carminative effect Approximately 2tbs each of Olive oil (Olea europaea) and vinegar, to be added sparingly as necessary Method Remove the central rib of the Dandelion leaves. Wash all the herb leaves carefully, and chop. Steam the leaves gently for no more than a minute. Remove from the steamer, and add to a large bowl. Gently whisk in the oil and vinegar until you achieve the consistency of moist pesto. Season to taste. Serve on top of oatcakes with goat cheese, smoked fish, or roasted Peppers (Capsicum spp.).

Maibowle with Wild Strawberries 10g Sweet Woodruff 1 bottle of semi-dry white wine, preferably German 50g sugar 1 bottle of dry sparkling wine Wild Strawberries, or cultivated if unavailable Method Harvest the aerial parts of Sweet Woodruff before flowering, and dry as quickly as practical. Take the leaves off the stems and set aside. Add the wine and the sugar to a large Kilner jar or similar, and stir to dissolve. Add in the dried Sweet Woodruff, and cover. Refrigerate for approximately 30 minutes. Strain, and serve with the Strawberries and topped up with sparkling wine. Contraindications: Sweet Woodruff should only be taken in moderation, and not at all if you are taking blood thinning medication.

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.

Olga Suvorova The Walk (variant)

v: Our Editor in the Field

Kyra Pollitt meets Hamish Martin Kyra Pollitt I am sitting in the glasshouse of The Secret Herb Garden opposite its founder, Hamish Martin. “I don’t know if that’s your bird?”, he asks, nodding upwards, and I feel some shame that an unspoken sorrow I have been carrying has chosen to manifest at our meeting. “Mine is usually the robin,” he adds. This makes sense. Robins are messengers for the lost, bringing happiness, good fortune, and rebirth. As ‘my’ magpie caws from the eaves, Hamish is prompted to narrate his own journey from a place of sorrow to the creation of this green oasis on the outskirts of Edinburgh. Sure enough, as he finishes his tale, a robin begins to sing. But let’s not rush the story. Instead, let’s follow the fluid curves of both his garden and his yarn, and circle back to the round table at which we begin, surrounded by Jasmine, Myrtle, Victorian Christmas trees, award-winning French Lilac, Lemon Verbena, Rosemary, Olive, and so much more. When Hamish first met this land, this glasshouse was broken but filled with those “native wild plants” which the unenlightened often call ‘weeds.’ Where others saw dereliction, Hamish saw the landscape of his dreams. Hand in hand with his new love, he could picture the paths, the plants, the wildlife, the way of life. Hamish’s father had made sure his young boy walked regularly in the Pentlands, learned the joy of swimming wild. Indeed, the March equinox still marks the turn of year, after which Hamish rises daily at 5am for a walk and a wild swim. As a young man, Hamish set to work in the wine industry. But the real connection with plants came later, at a time when Hamish needed solace. He found it in the small urban garden of a rented property, persuading the landlady to allow him to transform a grass monoculture into “an invitation to other beings.” Those beings repaid his kindness with fortune, and so Hamish soon found himself creating paths and borders and planting in a once derelict glasshouse. Looking around the site now, it’s clear that there is order here, and consideration. Hamish took night Looking around the site now, it’splants clear from that courses in Herbology at Royal Botanic Garden Edinburgh and took care to source mother there is order here, and consideration. “plant heroine”, Jekka McVicar. At a certain point in all this growth, Hamish began to feel a bit Hamish took night courses in Herbology at overwhelmed. He was living on-site in a static caravan with his blended family— three children, plus Royal Botanic Garden Edinburgh and took four children, plus five dogs. He had seen Jekka McVicar’s place and that kind of perfection seemed care by to his source mother plants fromto “plant some way out of reach. Discouraged from book learning dyslexia, Hamish began suffer heroine”, Jekka McVicar. At a certain point in imposter syndrome. He tells of his panic at an early invasion of red spider mites. A consultant was this growth, Hamish began to a bit called in, who suggested predator aphids. But luckily, all around the same time, Hamish hadfeel another overwhelmed. He was living on-site in a static realisation. It may have been the influence of Catherine Conway-Payne at RBGE, or perhaps the with his blended family— Medicine Man Hamish encountered in South Africa, or caravan the indigenous Healer in North America,three but children, plus four children, plus five dogs. He somewhere along the line, Hamish had learned to listen. Something in Hamish clicked. He understood had seen Jekka McVicar’s place and that kind that he did now not need consultants or paper qualifications, but self-belief. of perfection seemed some way out of reach. Discouraged from book learning by his dyslexia, Hamish began to suffer imposter syndrome. He tells of his panic at an early invasion of red spider mites. A consultant was called in, who suggested predator aphids. But luckily, around the same time, Hamish had another realisation. It may have been the influence of Catherine Conway-Payne at RBGE, or perhaps the Medicine Man Hamish encountered in South Africa, or the indigenous Healer in North 22

v: Our Editor in the Field indigenous Healer in North America, but somewhere along the line, Hamish had learned to listen. Something in Hamish clicked. He understood that he did now not need consultants or paper qualifications, but self-belief. The Scottish herbal world is small, and others pitched in to help this amiable chap with his venture. Whilst Hamish gathered Scots Lovage seeds from a picnic spot overlooking the Holy Isle, a retired Weleda gardener, Richard, got in touch and donated some Mallow seeds. Two weeks after scattering them throughout the glasshouse, Hamish learned that Richard had died. ‘Richard’s Mallow’, however, is alive and well and thriving across the site. Indeed, the Herb Garden now boasts over 800 species of cultivated herbs, each grown from seed or cutting. But this is not all about horticulture. Hamish is careful to balance what is taken with what is given. So, whilst there are herb beds and greenhouses, the Apothecary Rose Garden, a Juniper plantation, and a cut flower garden, there is also an oasis for bees, and the whole site is linked with untouched wildlife corridors. There are over forty-eight plant species in the gravel car park alone, many of them Scottish wild natives. As Hamish says, “Give me one square metre of land and I can capture more carbon in two years than one tree can capture in a hundred.” We talk of methods and practices, shake our heads ruefully at some of the extremes of biodynamics, and concur that “listening” to the needs of plants, “vibing” with them, is key: I found myself picking the St. John’s Wort on a solstice, then worrying that I had not followed the biodynamic calendar. When I checked, I found that the solstice was actually the optimum time for picking, of course. But I had done it because it felt right. I realised then that books can only tell you what is right on some other piece of land. You need to listen to what is right for the land in your care.

v: Our Editor in the Field So, when Jekka told Hamish she didn’t stock Roses because they bring aphids, Hamish listened to his heart and sourced an alternative stock of Apothecary Rose plants. The result was not just the beautiful Apothecary Rose Garden, arranged like folding petals, but a solution to the problem that his new venture was only commercially viable during the milder and more productive months of the year. Experiments with distillations of Apothecary Rose, and other herbals, taught him that adding tonic water could change the colour of the liquid, turning it pink. From there the Apothecary Gin range was launched, going live to market in 2017 and expanding to supply bespoke gins to the likes of Fortnum and Mason— but also Aldi.

Fuelled now by his favourite Viennese whirl, Hamish takes me on a waltz around the Garden. A tall figure with a striking leonine mane, dressed in a kilt, he moves easily from one plant to the next. Hamish is undoubtedly an empath. Fingers reaching for a leaf here, eyes catching the merest hint of growth there, he knows this land because he feels it. He senses the soil, hears the growth, and he really knows his plants.

v: Our Editor in the Field As we pass a curious tepee-like structure, Hamish says it was intended for use by his friend, a Shaman. We talk of another early initiative— offering free, guided faery walks to children— that became so popular Hamish began to dread the hundreds of eager youngsters regularly gathering to hear his tales and take a bite of Nettle. And there’s something in that. When taking from the earth, Hamish tells me, it’s important to know when to stop: “When the blackbird leaves the Elder, you should stop picking too.” The derelict land that Hamish found is now fecund beyond imagining. Where the static caravans once stood is a fine house. The venture now extends to a café, a herb nursery, a distillery business, and a shop. And maybe that’s why Hamish is bracing himself to put The Secret Herb Garden on the market. It won’t be easy, but the business has developed such that he now spends most of his days with clean hands, and that is not the lifestyle he envisaged. So, some lucky person will soon inhabit this small paradise, and Hamish will move on, move closer to his dream of living off-grid, closer still to the faeries, the lichens, the mosses. I come away with a gift of Scots Lovage and my hands smeared in Bog Myrtle pollen. With the very best of intentions, I wish Hamish Martin a filthy future.

Olga Surovova Homage to Rembrandt (Friends)

vi: Sage Advice following Storm Arwen late last year. Historically, the walled garden was predominantly a productive space, and one of the trees lost was a fine old Bramley Apple (Malus domestica ‘Bramley’), likely planted around a hundred years ago or more. It is only in recent times that the garden has seen a change of use, and more ornamental trees were introduced. For this reason, wellestablished trees were still in the minority in what was otherwise quite an open space; however, the effect that these few specimens had on the feel of the garden was considerable.

An exercise in patience Callum Halstead This month we’re reaching peak time for plant procurement. The Chelsea Flower Show is just weeks away and even those of us who, in fear of frost and other foul weather, may have been reluctant to get out into the garden throughout the early spring, are now emerging full of vim and renewed enthusiasm for another season of gardening. For the nurseries and garden centres, it’s boom time. Behind the scenes, teams of growers are working at maximum capacity, preparing masses of greenery to dress stands at the bigname garden shows, in the hope of securing coveted gold medals. Meanwhile, it’s also business as usual— meaning numerous busy garden designers to supply, countless orders to fulfil, and a steady stream of customers arriving on site in search of something stunning to take away with them. The people must have plants! There’s a myriad of plants that are perfect for planting at this time of year, so you’ll have to forgive me for writing about ones that you can’t have now, or at least not yet— I’ll tell you why later on. The plants in question are trees. I’ve been thinking a lot about structural planting lately, and particularly about the general lack of it in many of our own gardens. My musings on the subject were prompted by the loss of four mature trees from the walled garden at Cambo Gardens, where I work,

Trees and larger shrubs lend a sense of maturity to a planting, and this can be so even when they are still relatively young. They can be used to give privacy and shelter to an area, providing sanctuary for both you and your garden’s wildlife. They are also highly effective at creating different moods within the spaces in which they are used, depending on the variety selected and how they are positioned. For example, trees with a more rigid structure and upright habit can be used to increase formality, while those with a looser crown and spreading habit can be used to amplify feelings of relaxation. Another of the trees that we lost to Storm Arwen was a Corkscrew Willow (Salix matsudana ‘Tortusa’), possibly one of the most relaxed trees there is, with its pendulous veil or twisting stems, and its fresh, green, sickle-shaped leaves. The change in the garden following the loss of these trees was stark. The filtered light that had danced on the flowers of the woodland bulbs growing below, was replaced by direct sunlight— also nice, but lacking motion and ethereal ambience. The mood and feel of the area fell, quite literally, flat. Gone was the mystery and intrigue about what was around the next corner, as you could see everything in front of you. Gone, too, was a sizeable amount of habitat for our resident birds, insects, lichens, and mosses. These lost trees will surely be replaced— a wonderful thing about working in gardens is being able to witness and be a part of the renewal and regeneration after the drastic 27

vi: Sage Advice effects of a storm —and my colleagues and I have, in fact, already planted an informal avenue of white-flowering Crab Apples (Malus ‘Evereste’) in the walled garden to reinject some structure into the planting. But, for those of us without trees in our own gardens— myself included —and those who have never grown them, I suggest that we are all missing out on the wealth of potential diversity and interest that they create. Whether you have booked tickets to go to a flower show this spring, or instead will be avidly catching up on the show’s highlights on TV, you are sure to see gardens that contain fine, well-structured planting. By this, I mean gardens that have distinct layers to them, with upper layers formed using trees and larger shrubs, bringing balance to the design and giving the impression that they have been growing in-situ for years rather than merely a few weeks. Many gardeners today seem almost scared to plant anything that might be in danger of growing above the fence line. My advice to you all is to be brave. I particularly offer my encouragement to anyone who has found themselves living in a new build, where the words ‘structure’ and ‘garden’ can rarely be used in the same sentence— unless the structure in question is a barbeque house. New housing developments often stand out for their lack of mature or even young trees. You may have quite a job on your hands to add layers of interest to the planting, and often-times you won’t be helped by the poor quality of the soil that you find. At least at this stage, you have a blank canvas to do with whatever you so wish, and soil can always be improved. I appreciate that gardens are generally getting smaller, and that you may only have room for one or two trees at most; this is all the more reason to select a variety or two that will really earn their keep. Trees in a garden do not have to mean ‘deep shade’ for you and your neighbours. A good nursery or garden centre will be able to advise you on how large and dense a canopy to expect from any given variety, and will surely be able to recommend a tree that will be best suited to your 28

requirements. You can also play with how much shade you create by altering how closely you plant them. Just remember that they will get bigger— it’s easy to forget —and space them accordingly. A spacing that may initially seem to be too far apart when the trees are young, will make much more sense once they have matured. This also applies when it comes to planting near buildings and walls. Give your trees the space they need to grow well. May is certainly a good time of year to plan the addition of trees to your garden. Spring has well and truly sprung, and many of the best garden trees will now be finely dressed in their new season’s foliage. If you can’t get to a show, then a bit of internet research certainly won’t go amiss, but it won’t beat actually seeing plants ‘in the flesh’ or, perhaps, ‘in leaf’. While you are on the hunt for ideas, a finely crafted ‘trees and shrubs’ board on Pinterest can be very useful for saving your ideas and providing a visual reminder, but a far better way to understand which plants could work well in the space that you have available, is to see fully established specimens growing in another garden. Take inspiration from local historic and botanic gardens, or alternatively visit one or two of the magnificent private gardens that open their doors to visitors as part of the National Garden Scheme and Scotland’s Garden Scheme. At many public and private gardens that are open to the public, you will most likely also be able to find a helpful gardener, whose knowledge and expertise you can plunder for plant recommendations and growing advice. Once you have made a note of some varieties that appeal and that you feel will be right for your garden, pause for a moment. I’m afraid that I am now going to make you wait. Rather than travelling straight to your nearest plant nursery and threading the finest specimen tree that you can find through the gap between the back seats of your car, consider instead phoning up and placing an order for delivery in the autumn. In a culture where the mantra ‘everything now’ generally prevails, I appreciate that exercising restraint and having

vi: Sage Advice a bit of patience can be a tough ask, but there is good reason to bide your time. These could well be some of the most valuable plants you will put in your garden, so to ensure that you get the most out of your investment, it’s a good idea to plant them at a time of year when they will be most able to establish themselves well. Autumn is that time. The reason for this is that trees can take time to get their roots fully plugged into the soil once you have planted them. Planting now will afford them little time to develop an extensive enough root system to be capable of supporting the leafy crown through periods of stressful hot and dry weather during the summer. As a result, you may find that leaves become scorched and dry out in the sun, as the plant struggles to take up enough water to replace what is being lost through the canopy. A summer of this kind of stress can leave your tree in a rather sorry looking state, so it is far better to delay planting until we are once again approaching the cooler months of the year. In the meantime, you can visualise how your garden is going to look in the years to come, and enjoy perusing the great many perennials— which you still have time to plant, and which will provide supporting roles for your fabulous new trees. A fine specimen indeed... The trees that I have recommended below are mostly small to medium-sized trees, appropriate for smaller gardens, and varieties that most gardeners will have a hope of seeing grow to maturity without having to wait a lifetime or three. In most cases, you will have the option of single-stem or multi-stem specimens. The latter can be preferable in trees grown for the colour of their stems. Given the space, the designer in me would plant three of the same variety throughout a garden to bring unity to the design; however, the avid plant collector in me would most certainly select three different varieties, and would probably try to shoehorn in two more to boot. It’s a constant battle I have with myself. I will let you decide where exactly your own personal taste falls on this debate.

Cornus kousa ‘China Girl’ In early summer, every bough of this elegant Flowering Chinese Dogwood will be coated with large, star-like flowers, each comprised of four broad and pointed, creamy bracts, joined at their centre by a large green boss that appears to be studded with little pins. These will be followed by peculiar Raspberry-like fruits in autumn, when the entire tree will turn a magnificent fiery red. Cercidiphyllum japonicum A tree that is perhaps better known by its common names, Candyfloss Tree or Katsura. This splendid species from Japan is celebrated for the delicious scent of slightly burnt caramel that its fresh green, heartshaped leaves emit during their annual procession through various shades of yellow, orange, purple and red before they fall in the autumn. Its heavenly perfume will fill your entire garden on a warm and still evening. Cercis canadensis ‘Forest Pansy’ This variety of the North American Judas Tree is grown for its stunning plum-coloured, heartshaped foliage. The leaves are preceded by showy clusters of magenta flowers that line each branch in mid-spring. Like the Cercidiphyllum, above, its season closes with a marvellous technicolour display. Betula albosinensis ‘Fascination’ Despite its common name, Chinese White Birch, the peeling papery bark of this variety has a pretty salmon-pink hue. This contrasts beautifully with the chocolatey burgundy of the younger branches. Its dark green, diamond-shaped leaves will turn sunshine yellow in the autumn, before falling to carpet your garden with gold.

vi: The Chemistry Column

Soaking up the sun...with the liver? Claire Gormley Longer, warmer days mean more time to soak up the glorious vitamin D that so many of us miss during the winter months. “Get out and get your vitamin D!” my mum always used to say, and I never questioned how sunshine gave me vitamin D— even after learning that the sun’s rays are just photons and radiation. Perhaps I missed the lesson at school where we were taught about vitamin D production, or maybe I was already out the door and into the sunshine before I could take in the explanation for my mum’s advice. Today, as I was having my morning dose of vitamin C (in a yummy tangerine flavour), the thought popped into my head: how do we actually get vitamin D from the sun? Most of our essential vitamins— vitamins which our body can’t make on its own —come from the foods we eat. Our digestive system breaks down the food and absorbs the nutrients that the body needs to perform its daily activities. Although it is widely believed that vitamin D is an essential vitamin (and we certainly do need it to develop a healthy skeleton, among other things), by definition it is not essential at all— because we make up 30

to 90% of the vitamin D in our bodies ourselves. All we need is the power of the sun (Keane et al, 2018). When our skin is exposed to ultraviolet B rays from the sun, a type of fat called 7dehydrocholesterol, or provitamin D, changes into pre-vitamin D3 (Keane et al, 2018). For this change to happen, enough energy from the sun must be absorbed by the provitamin D for the bond between two carbon atoms in the molecule to be broken— specifically, carbon 9 and carbon 10 (Holick, Smith and Pincus, 1987). The severing of this bond produces pre-vitamin D3, a thermally unstable molecule, which undergoes an internal reaction to form vitamin D3 (Holick, Smith and Pincus, 1987). This is not where the story ends, however, because vitamin D3 in this form is inactive and cannot be used by the body (Ponchon, Kennan and DeLuca, 1969). Activation of vitamin D3 occurs in two steps. First, vitamin D3 is transported to the liver where it is converted to 25-hydroxyvitamin D (Keane et al, 2018; Holick, Smith and Pincus, 1987; Ponchon, Kennan and DeLuca, 1969).

vi: The Chemistry Column Scientists often measure the levels of this molecule in circulation to determine the vitamin D health of a person; recent research, although not definitive, has shown a link between vitamin D deficiency and chronic liver diseases (Keane et al, 2018). The final step of vitamin D activation occurs in the kidney, where carbon 1 is hydroxylated— meaning, a hydrogen atom bound to this carbon is replaced by a paired oxygen and hydrogen (hydroxyl group) —and becomes 1,25-dihydroxyvitamin D (Holick, Smith and Pincus, 1987). In this form, vitamin D3 behaves like a hormone, acting on bone, immune, and liver cells to regulate changes in the body (Keane et al, 2018), and ultimately contributing to all the positive effects— like improved mental health —that we associate with vitamin D and sunshine. If you’re looking for an excuse to get outside, firing up your vitamin D factory seems like a pretty good one to me. Just don’t forget the sunscreen! References Holick, M.F., Smith, E., and Pincus, S. (1987) ‘Skin as the Site of Vitamin D Synthesis and Target Tissue for 1,25-Dihydroxyvitamin D3’ in Arch Dermatol, 123: 1677-1683a Keane, J.T., Elangovan, H., Stokes, R.A., and Gunton, J.E. (2018) ‘Vitamin D and the Liver – Correlation of Cause?’ in Nutrients, 10(4): 496 Ponchon, G., Kennan, A.L., and DeLuca, H.F. ‘”Activation” of Vitamin D by the Liver’ in The Journal of Clinical Investigation, 48: 2032-2037

Olga Suvorova The Tamer (Lady with Leopards)

vii: Foraging through Folklore

Fetching the summer home Ella Leith Robin Hood and Little John, they both are gone to fair, O! And we will to the merry greenwood to see what they do there, O! And for to chase-O! To chase the buck and doe. With HaI-an-tow! Rumbelow! For we up as soon as any, O! And for to fetch the summer home, the summer and the May O! For summer is acome, O! And winter is agone, O! (in Courtney, 1886)

May Day marks the beginning of summer. It is the month of merriment; of flower-wreathed May Poles, of garlanded May Queens, of village fairs, of young people a-maying in the merry greenwood. They would usually be gathering ‘May’. The plant most commonly known by this name is Crataegus monogyna (Hawthorn, Whitethorn, or Quickthorn), but there are countless other Mays: Lilac (Syringa spp.), Guelder-rose (Viburnum opulus), Cowslip (Primula veris), Furze (Ulex spp.), Narrow-leaved Elm (Ulmus minor), and Sycamore (Acer pseudoplatanus), to name a few. ‘Literary evidence suggests that May originally meant simply ‘greenery’’, says Brown (1959:416), and it seems to me that those off a-maying would be unlikely to be all that fussy about which green boughs and flowers they brought back. With the rising sap, they may have had other things on their

minds. A-maying in the greenwood probably meant more than merely collecting foliage; ‘chasing the buck and doe’ may be a bit of a euphemism for what the unchaperoned young people got up to (see Pallardy, 2011). Social mores could be suspended in times of festivity; the important thing was that they didn’t return empty handed, but laden with the proof of summer growth— literally, fetching the summer home. The above song was sung in Helston, Cornwall, not on May Day itself but on the 8th— Flora Day, also known as Flurry-Jay and Faddy. This was a day ‘given up to pleasure’ (Courtney, 1886:230-231). After a week of spring cleaning and decorating houses with flowers, the young people— the Hal-an-tow —would dance off into the woods, raucously accompanied by drums, singing, and perhaps 33

vii: Foraging through Folklore the shrill tooting of a ‘feeper’, a ‘rude whistle’ made from young Sycamore shoots and the ‘green stalks of wheaten corn’ (ibid:225-226). Their return was met with festivities, drinking and a dance. Participation was not optional: anyone found working on Flora Day was manhandled onto a pole and taken to the widest part of the Cober stream, where they were made to jump across— an endeavour that inevitably failed (ibid:232). Similar punishments were meted out across Cornwall on May Day proper; in some communities, Stinging Nettles (Urtica dioica) were used to ‘chastise ... any one found in bed after six on May-morning’ (ibid:225); in other places, sprigs of Narrow-leaved Elm or Hawthorn had to be displayed prominently by each person, as: all the boys sally forth with bucket, can, or other vessel, and avail themselves of a licence which the season confers— to ‘dip’ or wellnigh drown, without regard to person or circumstance, the passenger who has not the protection of a piece of ‘May’ conspicuously stuck in his dress; at the same time they sing, ‘The first of May is Dipping-day’ (ibid: 226). May merriment was taken seriously. Sex in the greenwood, boisterous musicmaking, and mob justice, contrast somewhat with the demure image of May Poles on the village green. Judge (1991:134) blames ‘an established repertoire of material created by romantic imagination’, founded in Victorian nostalgia for Merry England’s ‘contented, revelling peasantry and a hierarchical order in which each one happily accepted his place’ (Thomas, 1983:20). In fact, May festivities were often much more carnivalesque— an opportunity to let off steam, subvert the social order, and mark the liminal space between two seasons with a bit of rowdiness, chaos, and danger. In Hayle, Cornwall, ‘bonfires were lit in various parts of the town’, and ‘a ball of tow or rags...saturated with petroleum, [was] set fire to, and then kicked from one place to another’ (Courtney, 1886:226). In 1598, Oxford men ‘attired in women’s apparel’ instigated a ‘town-and-gown’ riot, ‘with drum 34

and shot and other weapons’, as well as indulging in more ‘disordered and unseemly sports’ (quoted in Manning, 1903:175). In Padstow, Cornwall, May Day was Hobby Hoss (or Obby Oss) Day, on account of the huge hobbyhorse which was processed through the town: made of sackcloth painted black— a fierce mask— eyes red, horse's head, horse-hair mane and tail; distended by a hoop— some would call it frightful. Carried by a powerful man, he could inflict much mischief with the snappers (Courtney, 1886:227). The Hoss, snapping its jaws and “tilting its skirts ‘for luck’ over the young girls” (Spooner, 1958:35), was followed by: a vast crowd of men and women gaily decorated with flowers and singing the May Songs, while the men fired in all directions pistols loaded with powder (Anon., 1905:60-61). Unsurprisingly, the rowdiness could easily escalate. Courtney (1886:227) reports: Formerly all the respectable people at Padstow kept this anniversary, decorated with the choicest flowers; but some unlucky day [c.1815] a number of rough characters from a distance joined in it, and committed some sad assaults upon old and young, spoiling all their nice summer clothes, and covering their faces and persons with smut. Not to be deterred, by 1880 the townsfolk had incorporated smut into the tradition: well-todo people appearing at their doors would be “greeted by ‘showers of soot’ and had their faces ‘blackened by the application of the sooty or greasy hands of some of the men’” (Spooner, 1958:35). Courtney (1886:227) was not impressed, commenting: ‘[nowadays] the procession is formed of the lowest’. Social divisions might come to the fore during these seasonal festivals, but despite the chaos and sense of mild threat in many May Day customs, the processions were an assertion of community; a form of visiting custom, physically delineating the town, village, or

vii: Foraging through Folklore vii: vii:Foraging Foragingthrough throughFolklore Folklore parish, and marking the community to itself. The night before the Padstow festivities, groups of young men sang outside local houses of note: Unite and unite, and let us all unite, For summer it is comen to-day; And whither we are going we all will unite, In the merry morning of May. (Courtney, 1886:228) Ultimately, these festivities act out the uncertainty and potential chaos inherent in the changing of the seasons— rules get broken, maybe heads get broken too. You might get jostled or chased, you might be burnt by a fireball or covered in soot, you might get drunk and disorderly, but perhaps that’s the price of fetching the summer home.

References Anonymous (1905) ‘The Padstow Hobby Horse, etc.’ in Folklore, 16(1): 56-60 Bagshawe, T.W. (1953) ‘Elstow (Bedfordshire) May Festival, 1953,’ in Folklore, 64(2): 341-342 Brown, P.W.F. (1959) ‘Notes on Names of the Thorn’ in Folklore, 70(2): 416-418 Courtney, M.A. (1886) ‘Cornish Feasts and “Feasten” Customs’ in The Folk-Lore Journal, 4(1): 221-249 Judge, R. (1991) ‘May Day and Merrie England’ in Folklore, 102(2): 131-148 Manning, P. (1903) ‘Stray Notes on Oxfordshire Folklore’ in Folklore, 14(2): 167177 Pallardy, R. (2011) ‘May Day: Sex, Death, and Fire’, blog post on The Encyclopædia Britannica Blog: www.blogs.britannica.com Spooner, B.C. (1958) ‘The Padstow Obby Oss’ in Folklore, 69(1): 34-38 Thomas, K. (1983) The Perception of the Past in Early Modern England, The Creighton Trust Lecture 1983. London: University of London

vii: Botanica Fabula

Woodruff got wealth beyond gold Amanda Edmiston It was a dew-clad, warm May morning. Around the ruins of the sixteenth century church my friends were to be married in, we were strewing herbs: Marjoram (Origanum majorana) for health and happiness; Rose petals (Rosa spp.) for love; Sweet Woodruff (Galium odorata) for wealth and prosperity. The sweet scent of the Roses filled the air, and little bursts of pink dust floated from the dried flowers we scattered. But it is the vanilla-scented coumarins rising from the Woodruff that will forever draw my mind back to that day. Later, sitting beneath the first blossoms of a lone Hawthorn tree (Crataegus monogyna) on the hillside beyond the churchyard, we sipped champagne infused with Woodruff and Strawberries (Fragaria × ananassa)— a nod to traditional German Maiwein. There, I wove words telling of the legendary bride who, many lifetimes ago, struck a deal with the fae to enchant her beloved. She is said to have dressed in faerie green, gifted to her by the faerie laird as she sat in the swirling waters of the nearby stream at midnight, and uttered charms to bring her the power to entrance. Eventually, her marriage was lost; she was forced to live in Elfland, beneath the tree, to repay her debts to the faerie laird. The Maiwein we sipped was intoxicating; so, too, was the confusingly sexy triethylamine that the Hawthorn exuded into the atmosphere. Perhaps it was the balminess of the late spring evening that compelled everyone to dance— or perhaps it was the presence of the fae within the hill. The Woodruff’s heady coumarins infused the air as we trampled its soft whorls of leaves and its scattered star-drop white petals beneath our feet. Twinkling heavenly bodies shone high above our heads. The next morning, having camped nearby, the bleary-eyed wedding party emerged. Our livers were aching— the toll for our over-zealous merriment. We made our way to long tables laden with breakfast: the exuberant golden-yellow tones of freshly fried samosas; the tall glasses of Turmericlaced Mango lassi. These were handed to the sleep-fractured guests. The Turmeric did its work. The anti-inflammatory, liver-easing mouthfuls slowly revived everyone, and I started to share with the small group at my table an ancient Indian tale I first heard many years ago. It was the story of how a liverish Rajah, suffering from a grumbling digestive system, sought an intelligent and kind son-in-law. Eventually, he was overjoyed to see his daughter marry the gardener’s son after he was gifted Turmeric, or Haldi— the Indian gold —to eat in every dish. It healed his liver complaints, and many of his multiple aches and pains; its giver also captured his daughter’s heart. 36

vii: Botanica Fabula

I realised that a group had gathered, and we continued to share stories and herbal liver tonics. The conversation soon turned to the present, and how we anticipated that particular plants would define our memories of this beautiful May weekend of celebrating lovers’ vows and making merry with old friends and new acquaintances. As the group dispersed, a few of us stayed on to help clear up after the night’s revels, to ease the work of the bride and groom. Together, we decided to gather some memories of the weekend from folk as they departed, recording them on scraps of paper, and to collect samples of the plants that so many had mentioned as now being associated with this time. We captured these offerings in a scrapbook, and gave it to the married couple as a keepsake. A few weeks later, I received a surprise parcel. As the brown paper unfolded, it released the unmistakable aroma of Woodruff. Inside: a thank you letter from my married friends, and a handstitched bag containing the strewing herbs we’d used. The bag and letter now sit in a Rosewood box, in which I keep memories and treasures worth more than gold. They tell a story of love, happiness, and friendship; Sweet Woodruff casts a spell to bind folk together, sending May blessings for health, wealth, and happiness.

Amanda and Jean Edmiston’s latest project, Handing On, looks at everyday treasures that are worth more than gold because of the stories they hold. More information can be found here: https://www.botanicafabula.co.uk/handing-on

vii: Nine Arches Press presents...

Isobel Dixon Self-Portrait in Sweet Woodruff Tumbled in fractious, scratchy grief, let me lie in the undergrowth, feel sorrow pass from me into the earth. Hold, receiving soil, and give – my aching shoulder, this eroding spine, the bruiséd cage in which these organs heave. I don’t know how or why they carry on, except they do, and bear the weight of me with them. Two roads diverged, and I lay down, for what else could I do. Sink to my knees and stretch out long, heart-tattered, in a lap of salving green. Let braver travellers venture on. Let me succumb and dream among the leaves as if I were a child again and no-one there to call me in. I saw a painting once like this, of ink on silk: damp emerald, a shaded world. The trees rise silently, and a skein of weasel threads the whitestarred forest floor: a weasel paused among fishmint, wild strawberries. This is that pause. A forest bath, soul-tunnelling. A time to sleep among the beetles in a cloak of rain and fragrant asterids and wake, May-dazed, to a softer path. An apple-green music, pale vanilla light, a cup of stem-steeped early summer wine.

vii: Nine Arches Press presents...

Isobel Dixon grew up in South Africa where her debut collection, Weather Eye, won the Olive Schreiner Prize. Further collections A Fold in the Map and The Tempest Prognosticator, which J.M. Coetzee described as "a virtuoso collection", have been re-issued by Nine Arches Press. Her work has been recorded for the Poetry Archive and she often collaborates with artists, writers, and composers. Bearings was published by Nine Arches Press in 2016. In the same year Mariscat published a pamphlet, The Leonids. A Whistling of Birds contains many nature-focused poems and is due from Nine Arches Press in 2023. 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. Isobel's books are available from ninearchespress.com/publications/poetry-collections

Olga Suvorova Homage to Rembrandt (tondo)

viii: Book Club

Hex (Fagan, J.: Birlinn, 2022) Reviewer: Marianne Hughes CN: Hex contains detailed reference to rape, abuse, and sexual assault. The Darkland Tales are a new series of short novels from modern Scottish authors. In the words of the publisher, they offer ‘dramatic retellings of stories from the nation’s history, myth, and legend […] viewed through a modern lens and alive to modern sensibilities.’ Jenni Hagan’s Hex is the second publication in the series, and she describes it as a ‘small offering’ in honour of Geillis Duncan, a fifteenyear-old girl accused of, and executed for, witchcraft on December 4th, 1591. The novel is set in a prison cell in Old Tolbooth, Edinburgh. The timeframe is the twelve hours from midnight till noon on December 4th. The conversation is between Geillis, awaiting her fate in the cell, and Iris’ spirit/consciousness time-travelling across ether, time, and space from 2022. They share experiences and memories, demonstrating the commonalities in female experience across more than four hundred years. Jenni Hagan’s creativity, humour, and poetic craft animate the story of Geillis’ short life, echoed in Iris’ life, and illustrate the dark events of the North Berwick trials in the time of King James VI. The cell is: far below footfall, or taverns, or flats; below beds, or kitchens, or hugs, or hope … there is only one kind of weather in here – freezing cold and cloaked in darkness. Hagan’s language is evocative of the desolation facing this young girl, Geillis. It conjures our connections to our ancestors and predecessors: the ether is a tributary going out across the universe, and we can travel it in any direction— human bodies don’t live in bodies for so long.

Iris’ spirit travels to find the cell; she reflects on the power of the State, the King, and the ordinary people. She considers King James VI’s penchant for demonstrations of power, and the horrible ease with which accusations of witchcraft could be made. An accusation might be levelled, perhaps, after someone had assisted in healing another person; for being a widow; for a stillborn child; for being too tall; or for myriad unpredictable and inconsequential things. Hagan’s use of humour in the dialogue between Geillis and Iris brings relief to this dark novel, but the real light of the novel is the connection the two women build. Geillis’ voice takes centre stage as she paces her cell ‘as if it were the sandy paths near North Berwick beach … and the smell of the sea’, and she asks Iris about what women do hundreds of years hence. The two laugh together ‘wryly’ when Iris replies, ‘we look over our shoulder far too often.’ They go on to compare experiences, with Iris commenting on the significance of money and 41

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skin colour, and on newspapers reporting ‘gratuitous details of the murder of women’. Geillis gradually reveals her story of how her ‘master’, David Seaton— a bailiff in Tranent — saw the denunciation of Geillis’ healing and midwifery skills as a way for him to escape his debts (he was paid for his actions) and usurp the wealth of Euphame MacCalzean, a relative by marriage. As Geillis describes to Iris the rumours and the traumatising abuse Seaton has inflicted, Iris bears witness through listening, compassion, anger and understanding Geillis’ guilt at having falsely accused others— ‘at a point in torture you will say anything …’ Iris shares her own experiences, commenting on how men are ‘idolised as heroes in their communities’ and that: I would like to reassure you that five hundred years from now the fine line of misogyny no longer elongates from uncomfortable to fatal, yet I cannot. As well as sharing in conversation with Geillis, Iris channels imagination for her; providing warmth, nostalgic food dishes, cleanliness, and the sense of being held. The women tell each other stories that have passed between women through songs, through paintings, through overheard conversations, and through a female reimagining of the Garden of Eden myth. These simple comforts echo across time and space, and particularly resonate in this moment as people flee their homes in Ukraine. Hagan expertly weaves a narrative demonstrating the danger of the ‘thought plague’ and draws attention to the incredible power of being believed— but also the devastating power of not being believed. The strength that Geillis draws from Iris believing her narrative is reflected in her ability to reframe her position: my goodness, my heart, my ability to heal. That does not make me a witch. Just as his poverty and debt and disease and desire to destroy all that is good do not make him an agent of God.

Whether you know a little or a lot about these witch-hunting times, Hagan offers an insight that haunts long after the book is closed.

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Spiritual Herbalism: The Magic and Medicine of the Plants (Williams, J.: Aeon Books, 2022) Reviewer: Forest Tuesday Spiritualism and herbalism certainly share characteristics and values, but it is not often that a herbology publication will focus directly on the spiritual aspects of working with plants. The newest exception to this rule is Josh Williams’ debut publication. Williams begins by introducing the core principle of the work: Something is missing from contemporary herbalism. Something so incredibly important that by missing it we are actually missing the most powerful, magical, and transformative blessings of the plant world. That all-important thing is relationship. The personhood of plants, and the goal of creating a working relationship with the plant spirit, is the main focus of Spiritual Herbalism. The structure of this book is somewhat unconventional, with each chapter split into two distinctive parts. The first part focuses on a specific plant and its properties; it gives little recipes, and offers a ritual than can be performed with the plant. In the second section of each chapter, Williams goes on to discuss a topic connected to spiritual practice, drawing a link between the plant and practice that may not be initially clear. This results in the first section of each chapter mirroring a familiar directory, whilst the second offers a more digestible reading narrative. The author describes his process thus: Each chapter presents a topic in an initiatory way. This means that instead of offering a step-by-step as we would expect to see in a beginner’s book, I explore the idea for you, present it in ways that allow you some creative licence, and set up a flow that hopefully gives you direct realisations related to the topic at hand. This information is meant to be embodied and unpacked with each unique person who holds it.

This technique allows the author to create space for more nuanced explanations of spiritual practice, and creates a more accessible reading experience than a standard directory book, whilst still containing all the relevant information. As well as using an unconventional structure, Williams also brings his unique writing style to the text, favouring poetic language and evocative imagery. The poeticism can occasionally tip the scale towards self-indulgence, but on balance the writing style is very engaging. 43

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The author has stated that, whilst his intention is that the book will provide the next step for people who have already experienced the basics of spiritual herbalism and have begun nourishing their own relationships with plants, his hope is that anyone interested in spiritual herbalism will find the book accessible. As someone with very little knowledge of spiritual herbalism myself, I did indeed find the book very accessible, and in fact more useful and practical than other beginner-type spirituality books that I have read in the past. I will admit to having had some initial reservations about the text, but I was pleasantly surprised. The author makes clear his intention to be respectful to other cultures and spiritual practices that use plants, and directly discusses cultural appropriation and ethical spiritual practice in the text. To the best of my knowledge and understanding, this has been successfully achieved. I also appreciated that the author spoke about spiritual herbalism in a holistic way. Coming in at 276 pages made from a mix of responsibly sourced materials, this is a hefty text to add to your herbology library, but I would certainly recommend it to anyone who is looking to expand their spiritual practice through nature.

Olga Suvorova Homage to Rembrandt (tondo)

Olga Suvorova Enigma

ix: 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.

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

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

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

ix: Contributors

Marianne Hughes began following her interest in complementary medicine after a career in Social Work Education and voluntary work in Fair Trade. Starting with Reflexology & 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, and is now a horticultural therapist and graduate of the RBGE Herbology Diploma. She is passionate about facilitating nature re-connection and enabling its therapeutic benefits by creatively adapting knowledge and stories for organised group sessions: either outdoors, incorporating exercise; or sedentary, indoor, experiential workshops. You can follow her on IG: @annlovesherbs or at www.thymefornature.com

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

Maddy Mould is an illustrator and designer, 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

ix: Contributors

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

Forest Tuesday was studying engineering until three years ago, when they suddenly decided to change direction. They have since become a Musical Theatre student and singer-songwriter. They’ve been vegan for four years and have recently been exploring spirituality. They believe that direct democracy, direct action, communities and education are our best hopes for surviving the climate crisis and ending oppression in all its forms. IG: @forest.tuesday

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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ix: Looking Forward

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Botanica Fabula

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