15
iii: Our Man in the Field
David Hughes meets Monica Wilde It’s a sunny afternoon, late summer, there’s a backing track of birdsong, and I am strolling towards a conversation with another titan of our modern herbology pantheon. This time, the big chief of Napier’s the Herbalist— Monica Wilde. To bring everyone up to speed, Monica is one of the best educators in medicinal plants out there. If there was a scouting movement for herbology, she’d be Pack Leader, her sleeve festooned with achievements. Master of Herbal Medicine badge? Check. Linnean Society Fellow badge? Check. Association of Foragers badge? Check. British Mycological Society badge? Check. Monica knows all the knots, and on the herbology camping trips she’d have her tent built and dinner foraged before most of us would even have our rucksacks off our backs. She also makes the best Kombucha I’ve ever tasted, though she’d be far too modest to admit it. The setting for this month’s adventure is a meandering path dissecting the vibrant habitats Monica has encouraged in the gardens that surround her home, at Wychmoss in West Lothian. It’s one of the few places left in the central belt of Scotland where the hum of traffic can’t be heard. This was neither my first visit, nor my first successful arrival. It’s one of those locations that Google maps insists is fluid. But now I’m here, and I’m being treated to the guided tour. It’s an experience worth savouring, not least because whenever I've been a pupil of Monica’s I've come away with new knowledge, a new insight. It’s as if she hands you another little piece of the jigsaw every time you see her… As I say, this wasn't my first visit to Wychmoss. Over a weekend, the previous summer, I and a few of my herbology student peers attended a
mushroom cultivation course, led by Monica and the equally brilliant Matthew Rooney. That’s where many of the connections underlying the more esoteric gardening principles began to make sense to me. Obviously, I’d also taken the liberty to have a good rifle around the garden. So, while I had a sense of the place before I arrived, I hadn't quite tapped into the essence, nor the scope of what Monica is in the process of achieving here. The sun is shining, the birds are singing and the fluffy seed heads of Rosebay Willowherb (Chamaenerion angustifolium) float by on the breeze, dancing their way past the quaking Aspen (Populus tremula) and Cherry trees (Prunus avium). As we walk the four acres, Monica talks me through the process of refining this previously quarried land, explaining how it’s been repurposed and encouraged to form the variety of microhabitats that comprise classic heathland. In creating this haven, space has been made for plants that wouldn't otherwise grow here; Eyebright (Euphrasia officinalis), Mouse-ear Hawkweed (Pilosella officinarum). They’re brought by animals, carried in on the wind, and granted permission here. There’s low-key endeavour in the creation of this place. It’s hand-tooled and handcrafted and, while this may result in many a blistered finger, there’s a method in play when approaching a garden in this manner; one that vastly improves diversity. Monica jokes: The first year we cut this with a scythe... great for the waist action! But, there’s a reason. When you cut with a scythe, you’re not mashing the plants up as you would with a strimmer. Using the scythe allows the weaker plants and the wildflowers to come through, and
back to contents
