Herbology News // The Sharp Issue

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Contents

i Editorial Artist of the Month

Kyra Pollitt Kenris MacLeod

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ii Herb of the Month Of Weeds & Weans Notes from the Brew Room

Marianne Hughes, Hazel Brady Joseph Nolan Ann King

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iii Our Man in the Field….

Dave Hughes meets Dee Atkinson

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iv Nature Therapy Anthroposophical Views

Nathalie Moriarty Dora Wagner

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v Jazz Ecology The Chemistry Column

Ramsey Affifi Dr. Michelle Armstrong

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vi Garden Gems

Ruth Crighton-Ward

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vii Plantstuffs

Elizabeth Oliver

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viii Plants and Places Foraging Through Folklore

LearnGaelic Ella Leith

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ix Botanica Fabula StAnza Presents…

Amanda Edmiston Anna Crowe

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x Book Club:

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Marianne Hughes reviews The Medicinal Forest Garden Handbook by Anne Stobart (Permanent Publications, 2020) Edie Turner reviews The Prisoner’s Herbal by Nicole Rose (Active Distribution, 2019) Kyra Pollitt reviews Why Willows Weep by The Woodland Trust (Indie Books, 2011) xi The Herbologist’s Diary

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xii Contributors Looking Forward

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i: Editorial

Sharp Kyra Pollitt Welcome to the Sharp issue.

Sharp can mean many things; the sharpness of the needle so deftly handled by Kenris MacLeod (our Artist of the Month), a thorn sharply turning the narrative in a fairy-tale (Foraging through Folklore), the sharp thinking of a good friend (Jazz Ecology), the sharp scent of a memory (Plantstuffs), the sharper end of childhood (Of Weeds & Weans).

Here at Herbology News HQ, sharp has manifest in both good and less good ways over the course of the past month.

Firstly, we have been delighted at the response to our September issue. The new platform and expanded content have brought a sharp increase in readership. We welcome each and every one and hope you will find both interest and joy in these pages. We hope, also, that you will help us to continue this growth by sharing the link with friends, family and colleagues and encouraging them to subscribe. You can also now follow us on Instagram @Herbology_News, and we’d be delighted if you would connect, comment and share there, too.

Less comforting, the sharp increase in coronavirus Covid-19 cases as the world experiences the second wave of the pandemic has made itself felt even here. Some of our regular columnists are absent this month. Khadija Meghrawi, our Messy Medic, was poised to bring her inimitable take to an explanation of the functions of blood. Instead, like many brave young medics, she is working extra shifts on the hospital wards. Our thoughts are very much with her, and we look forward to welcoming her safely back in our next issue.

Khadija’s extreme dedication is a reminder that everyone on Herbology News gives their time voluntarily; each making their contribution in addition to their daily family and work commitments and, sadly, whilst also managing bereavement. I salute and thank every one.

the pandemic inevitably also brings change and renewal. We wish Sutherland Forsyth all the very best in his new direction and look forward to new connections with the Physic Garden at the Palace of Holyroodhouse.

Our quarterly column on Plant Medicine & Social Justice will be back in December but, in the meantime, you can keep your focus sharp with Edie Turner’s Book Club review. And we are thrilled to welcome two new columnists to the Herbology News family. Nathalie Moriarty brings a soothing balm for the soul in Nature Therapy, whilst Dora Wagner promises to introduce us to a world of Anthroposophical Views. As ever, if you have something to add to these pages, we’d really like to hear from you.

We are delighted that Catherine Conway-Payne has accepted the role of Executive Editor, and we also welcome Marianne Hughes in her new capacity as Treasurer. Marianne is busy opening a bank account so that, in our next issue, we can begin to sell tickets for our Grand Winter Raffle.

Please keep your wonderful offers of prizes coming in— just contact herbologynews@gmail.com. We also encourage you to consider advertising with us. All the money raised will go to upgrading our digital publishing platform, making your reading experience smoother, more efficient and more pleasant. Issuu, the digital publisher, have very kindly offered us a 30% discount on our first year’s subscription. The rest is up to you.

Executive Editor Editor Artistic Director Illustrators Treasurer

Catherine Conway-Payne Kyra Pollitt Maddy Mould Maddy Mould Hazel Brady Marianne Hughes

Over at the Royal Botanic Gardens Edinburgh, there are still restrictions on volunteers so, besides frustration, there remains little to report from the Globe Physic Garden. And yet, beyond the stasis,

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i: Editorial

Herbology News has grown from the Herbology courses taught at the Royal Botanic Gardens Edinburgh, under the careful eye of Catherine Conway-Payne.

A suite of Herbology course options are available, as part of the broad range of education courses offered by RBGE.

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i: Artist of the Month

Kenris MacLeod www.kenrismacleod.com Kenris MacLeod is a textile artist who lives and works in Edinburgh. For fifteen years she worked as a BBC radio producer, before swapping sound for vision to study at Edinburgh College of Art in 2008. Now she uses the medium of freehand machine embroidery to describe the textures and complexity of the natural world— specifically trees.

Ostensibly fitting the tradition of ‘textile art’, Kenris’s work is probably more akin to drawing and painting— it’s just that she uses thread. In fact, Kenris says, she was thoroughly put off sewing at primary school and it wasn’t until she was required to take a Stitched Textiles module as part of her BA Degree that she realised how versatile a sewing machine could be: Put your feed dogs down, attach an embroidery foot and the rest is up to you.

It quickly became apparent to Kenris that freemotion machine embroidery was the medium she’d been searching for; that thread could create tonal complexity, texture and depth, and give her a language through which she could explore her love of trees. She has since become: totally and irretrievably absorbed by the forest as well as being covered in bits of thread.

Her childhood love of trees has proved long-held, and her obsession shows no sign of abating. Kenris lives near the Royal Botanic Gardens Edinburgh and spends hours up close with their wonderful collection of trees. As she asserts: if trees were sculptures, we would look up in awe and disbelief that something so epic and beautiful could exist. But all over the world we, at best, take them for granted and, at worst, indiscriminately destroy them, instead of cherishing and protecting them. Trees are our giant protectors, they are beings that defend us, hold the earth together.

Kenris’s work is an investigation of her relationship with this notion; how we depend on them, how we are often merciless in their destruction.

Their presence dwarfs us. We are like insects, endlessly busy, leading manic, futile lives. We come and go. Those trees we choose to protect, or ignore, live on— silent, dignified.

The horror of human treatment of trees fires Kenris’s practice.

The philosopher, Martin Buber, suggests if we refer to the world in terms of ‘I and Thou’ rather than ‘I and It’ we suddenly apprehend new beings. Thus, trees become considered unique individuals, each one ‘you’ rather than ‘it’, and they become known to us in an entirely different way.

It is the sense of living alongside a race of ‘others’, who we can never fully comprehend, that Kenris wishes to convey in all her work. In particular, You asks us to enter into their realm and allow ourselves to be enveloped and absorbed. We become a sapling in the forest, surrounded by a family.

Kenris’s pieces demand close proximity. She sews only centimetres from each work, as if examining the texture of bark by touch, and is only able to see what she has achieved by stepping back. Each work is composed of tiny stitches, creating her representations of these beings cell by cell. It is a form of reverence, of tree worship. The machine is noisy, she barely hears the world beyond, her eyes focused on the tiny points where the thread appears and disappears. Creating these giants from such microscopic marks is a way of honouring their majesty— Kenris’s attempt to come to terms with what they are, whether they are conscious of us —and our responsibilities to them and the natural world.

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i: Artist of the Month

Kenris is currently accepting commissions but does have a waiting list. We are grateful to Kenris for permission to include the following images: Cover Image and insert (page 38) The Blameless Trees Thread and ink on calico, 36cm x 24cm, 2020 Page 9 When We Slept in Trees Thread on calico,142x142cm, 2017 Page 15

By Helford River Thread on calico, 70cm x 37cm, 2019 Page 23 The artist at work, wrapped in ‘You’ Page 28 Muriel's Wood Thread and ink on calico, 36cm x 24cm, 2020 Page 31 A Dream of Wings Thread and ink on calico, 25cm x 25cm, 2020 Page 34 Invincible Summer Thread and ink on calico, 41cm x 37cm, 2020 Page 42 The artist and ‘You’ SSA exhibition Time Spent Among Trees, Meffan Gallery, Forfar, 2019

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Kenris MacLeod When We Slept In Trees

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ii: Herb of the Month

Sea Buckthorn (Elaeagnus rhamnoides, previously Hippophae rhamnoides) Marianne Hughes, with illustration by Hazel Brady For those of us who have been Herbology students at the Royal Botanic Gardens Edinburgh, the wonders of Sea Buckthorn are memorable.

Perhaps it was the thick gardening gloves and secateurs required to forage along East Lothian’s coast, perhaps the tart taste of one small berry, or perhaps learning that one berry held the equivalent Vitamin C of six oranges.

Sea Buckthorn was probably introduced to the East Lothian coast to stabilise the sand dunes. It has extensive roots which seek out water, making it drought resistant and an ideal plant for that environment. It is invasive, so there can be a conflict of interest between foragers and conservationists who favour a more mixed and biodiverse planting. While Kenicer (2018) notes the absence of Sea Buckthorn in Lightfoot’s Flora Scotia (1777), in the present day it is a useful medicinal plant.

There are very few fruit-producing plants that thrive in sandy soil, in salt-laden air, so it’s interesting that Sea Buckthorn forms a symbiotic relationship with a fungus from the genus Frankia, which occupy specialised oxygen-excluding nodules in the roots. The Frankia fix nitrogen from the air directly to the Sea Buckthorn, conferring the shrub with a major advantage and improving soil fertility for the benefit of other plants.

Medicinally, Sea Buckthorn berries not only have exceptionally high levels of Vitamin C, they are unusual in containing Palmitoleic acid— a valuable omega-7 monounsaturated fatty-acid. This fatty acid is present in breast milk and it helps suppress the production of new fat molecules, especially those that damage tissue and raise cardiovascular risk. Thus, Sea Buckthorn has some anti-obesity action.

Its other medicinal actions are antioxidant, antianaemic and anti-inflammatory, hence its reported use in wound healing.

As anyone who has collected Sea Buckthorn knows, freezing ensures the oil in the berries is preserved and the berries can be removed without a squishy mess. There is a considerable amount of leaf and twig to be managed while preparing the berries for freezing, and these parts are often discarded. As recent Polish research into Sea Buckthorn leaf and twig extracts has noted, however, these parts also have important radioprotective, anti-inflammatory and immunomodulatory properties (Skalski et al 2019).

Indeed, Sea Buckthorn has been used in Russia to treat the effects of radiation.

References Kenicer, G. (2018) Scottish Plant Lore: An Illustrated Flora, Royal Botanical Gardens Edinburgh: Edinburgh Skalski, B.; Kontek, B.; Lis, B.; Olas, B.; Grabarczyk,L.; Stochmal, A. & Żuchowski, J. (2019) ‘Biological Properties of Elaeagnus rhamnoides (L.) A. Nelson twig and leaf extracts’, in BioMed Central’s Complementary Medicine and Therapies, 19:148 (accessed 16.9.20) Stobart, A. (2020) The Medicinal Forest Garden Handbook: Growing, Harvesting and Using Healing Trees and Shrubs in a Temperate Climate, Permanent Publications: Hampshire

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ii: Of Weeds & Weans

Scrapes & Scratches Joseph Nolan Children and sharp things inevitably meet; pins, tacks, pavement, wooden fences, thorns, errant bike cables, etc. No matter what you do, eventually there will be tears. There are several types of injuries that result when sharps and children mix and, provided they are minor, these garden variety hurts are easily managed with herbs at home.

Scrapes & Scratches Child + Concrete. These injuries are not deep and do not bleed much, but they can be painful, weep a bit, and are prone to inflammation and itch, especially when healing. Grazes and scratches are also often dirty— the result of falling on gritty roads or afoul of the cat. Mostly, they just need to be cleaned, disinfected, and lightly dressed to keep them clean and comfortable for a few days.

Cuts Child + Glass. In the main, cuts are treated much like scrapes and scratches, but they are deeper, can be ragged and difficult to keep closed on areas that move, and may bleed more. When cleaning, be sure to check for dirt, shards of glass, or other debris, and disinfect carefully. Cuts need dressing to keep them clean and closed and as comfortable as possible.

Bites & Stings Child + Buzz Buzz. Between the ages of 1 and 12, I was bitten or stung by an uncountable number of invertebrates; mosquitos, gnats, spiders, bees, yellow jackets (aka wasps), fleas, ants, ticks, Portuguese Men-o-War, and many other beasties.

Mostly, they itch. Some of them produce an awful electric shock feeling that can last for hours.

Assuming there is no serious allergic reaction, bites need de-itching and stings need neutralizing.

Beware of sores and infection from scratching.

Splinters & Punctures Child + Wood. Splinters are particularly unpleasant; draw them rather than digging them out. Having endured many, many splinter digging sessions as a child, I am confident in saying that drawing is vastly superior to going at it with a needle and tweezers. Sometimes there is no splinter, just a puncture wound from a thorn or a pin. Treat these as though there were debris inside, because you never know. If the sharp item is rusty or dirty, consult a medic.

So, what does a herbalist to do when wee ones and sharps collide? Here are some herbal remedies for workaday wounds: Cleaning & Disinfecting While ye olde soap and hot water is the gold standard for cleaning a wound, in the field you have to get creative. If washing is not possible, think anti-infective herbs. I carry a small bottle of Commiphora molmol (Myrrh) tincture in my bag.

Myrrh, being resinous, is a high alcohol tincture and it burns like the dickens, but for dirty likely-toget-infected wounds, you can’t beat it. The tincture is anti-infective, and the sticky resin helps glue a cut together and encourages healing. You can reapply the myrrh as often as needed until the injury is healing well. On older children, you can use a little Tea Tree essential oil for its strong antiinfective qualities. And, despite the powerful smell, the oil doesn’t hurt when applied.

Alternatively, you can pick some Achillea millefolium (Yarrow, Knight’s Millfoil), slap it on the wound, apply a dressing, and carry on. Yarrow has a strong, clean, medicinal smell, prevents infection, stops bleeding, reduces inflammation, and eases pain. Because it regulates blood flow, Achillea stops bleeding while encouraging local circulation, which promotes healing. And it is ubiquitous.

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ii: Of Weeds & Weans

Dressing Plasters are great, if you have them. If you get caught without one, look around for some Plantago lanceolata or P. major (Plantain, Wide Weed). Roll a few leaves between your hands until they get juicy, and bind them on with an intact leaf.

Plantain glues a wound closed, encourages healing, and discourages infection. Use with Yarrow, especially for bleeding or weepy wounds.

If the hurt is itchy, Plantain cools and calms the inflammation. Failing Plantain, you can use Rumex obtusifolius (Broad Leaf Dock), R. crispus (Curly Dock), or another Dock species instead. Not as effective, but the tannins will help a wound close up and heal and draw out debris. Dock leaves also make good outside dressings for Plantain or other poultices, and the thinnish stems of the young leaves mean you can wrap and then tie them securely.

Drawing Preparations draw because they contract and squeeze, absorbing moisture from a wound. So, you apply a wet thing, let it dry and tighten, and it pulls out the offending item— be it stinger, splinter, gravel, or a minor infection. Such preparations are exceedingly useful and drawing can wait a few hours until you get home.

Plantain is effective at drawing splinters or dirt, and likewise the Deadnettles Lamium album, L. pupuruem, and L. galeobdolon (White Deadnettle, Red Deadnettle, and Archangel), which Culpeper recommends for “things gotten into the flesh.” Roll a good quantity of the leaves between your hands until juicy, apply to the wound, dress with gauze or a breathable bandage so the poultice can dry, and leave overnight. The offending thing should be out in the morning. If the first application does not remove the item, apply a new poultice.

Sometimes, though, you need to act quickly. With stings in particular, the offending object— like a bee’s stinger —may be left in the skin. Remove it as quickly as possible, flicking the stinger out with a fingernail rather than pulling with tweezers, which could empty the venom sac into the wound.

Proper removal can go a long way towards mitigating a sting. For pulling out venom and debris, drawing is effective, and a Plantain or

Symphytum officinale (Comfrey) leaf poultice calms inflammation, soothing itch and swelling.

Hypericum perforatum (St. John’s Wort), used either as a fresh plant poultice or in extract form, relieves inflammation and that dreadful electric shock sensation. When neutralizing, use vinegar on wasp or yellow jacket stings, and baking soda paste on bee stings.

For ticks, consult the NHS or CDC official page.

There are many nasty tick-borne infections, including but not limited to Lyme, and proper removal reduces the risk. Remember to check the kind of tick, because not all ticks carry disease.

While Plantain, Deadnettle, and Comfrey leaf poultices are great, you can also use many things you already have. The best medicine is what you have to hand. Here are my store cupboard tips for making a drawing poultice to combat those “things gotten into the flesh”: 

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Take powder of Ulmus fulva (Slippery Elm), Althea officinalis Radix (Marshmallow Root), or cosmetic clay (like Bentonite) and make into a paste. Things you can use in place of the medicinal powder include oatmeal, any flour, and moistened bread.

Anything that will dry and pull, even a chamomile teabag, will be useful for its drawing action.

To make the powder into a paste, water is fine, but you can also use Myrrh or Calendula officinalis (Marigold) tincture (25%, 45%, and 90% all work well), or a herbal infusion like Calendula for the liquid.

Dab a generous amount of the paste onto the wound so it is well covered.

Dress to keep it in place, but keep the bandage light and breathable so the poultice can dry out.

Leave overnight, and check in the morning. Renew if required.

Lastly, one must use sense. If an injury is more than minor, seek professional medical attention.

Happy Herbing!

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ii: Notes From The Brew Room

Sea Buckthorn Whip Ann King Sea Buckthorn (Hippophae rhamnoides) is found mainly on the east coast of the UK and particularly in East Lothian. The plant is a nitrogen fixer and can benefit coastal habitats, providing stability and structure to sand dunes. Its berry has become well known as a super-tonic, packed full of vitamins and antioxidants, and it is generally employed during the winter months to help ward of colds and viral infections.

No walk to North Berwick is complete without a little diversion to collect some berries for the store.

In late September and October, the fruit can be gathered directly from the bush without acquiring orange fingers and skin pricks from the exploding berries, but otherwise I find that cutting the branch and storing in the freezer works best. Sea Buckthorn can then be used when needed for simple infusions and juicing, or it can be dried and powdered for oil infusions and bath soaks.

Sea Buckthorn extracts provide intense nutrition for the skin— particularly now, when the drop in temperature outdoors, coupled with drying environments indoors can have a negative effect on moisture levels in the skin. The oils can be most beneficial in topical skin preparations. There are two different types of Sea Buckthorn oil; one is extracted from the fruit and the other from the seed. They both contain essential fatty acids, vitamin E, antioxidants, trace elements and phytosterols, which may promote healthy circulation, reduce inflammation and act as a protective barrier. The oil is reputed to aid cellular regeneration and boost elasticity, so it is the lead plant in this autumn skincare recipe.

The additional ingredients complement the protective and regenerative actions of the Sea Buckthorn. Sweet Almond oil (Prunus amygdalus var. dulcis) is beneficial in skin preparations as it facilitates the easy absorption of the herbal remedies. It is also mild, therefore rarely causes skin irritation, and full of fatty acids which help the skin to retain moisture. Beeswax (Cera alba) is a very versatile, renewable material, having been used from waterproofing Roman buildings to aiding Egyptian mummification. In this instance, the product is used as a thickener. Beeswax helps provide a thin layer, both to protect against external elements and to help the active ingredients in the ointments penetrate the skin.

Unlike other barrier creams, it will not clog the pores. It is also an emulsifier and will, therefore, help with the overall condition of the skin.

Calendula (C. officinalis) stimulates tissue repair and regeneration, and also collagen secretion which, in turn, may enhance the natural elasticity of skin cells. Frankincense (Boswellia sacra) resin has a solid reputation both as an elegant fixative in perfumes and as a promotor of cell regeneration in skin preparations. In addition, its sensuous earthy tones counter-balance the sharp tang of the Sea Buckthorn berry.

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ii: Notes From The Brew Room

Sea Buckthorn Whip You will need 2 heat-proof bowls— one small and one medium; a small saucepan; a metal spoon; a stick blender; sterilised glass jars, and labels.

Ingredients 5ml Sea Buckthorn oil 15ml Almond oil 10g cocoa butter 10g beeswax (grated) 5g emulsifying wax 45ml dried Calendula flower infusion or floral water 10 drops Frankincense essential oil Method Add the Almond oil, cocoa butter and beeswax to the larger bowl and gently heat in a saucepan of water until dissolved and warm to touch. Remove from the heat and stir in the Sea Buckthorn and Frankincense oils. If possible, gently heat the Calendula infusion and emulsifying wax at the same time so that the two liquids are similar temperatures for the next step.

Slowly drizzle the water-based Calendula mix into the Sea Buckthorn oil-based mix, stirring continuously. Then whip with the stick blender until the cream thickens and becomes opaque.

Place into the sterilised glass jars, label and refrigerate. The cream will thicken as it cools and will keep for a couple of months in the fridge.

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Kenris MacLeod

By Helford River

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iii: Our Man In the Field

David Hughes meets Dee Atkinson You seek ‘The Good Life’ but can you deal with trailing dirt across the carpets? Living off the land requires commitment, a firm constitution, a can-do attitude, and the kind of single-minded approach often described as pig-headed (though I rather prefer the expression ‘dogged’). The health and wellbeing benefits of the lifestyle are massive, but let us not kid ourselves— full time survivalist gardening is no small undertaking and success very much hinges on having both wellies planted firmly in the soil. Unreliable meteorology can be a fraught affair, and incorrect usage of a variety of animal poops may present all sorts of barriers to success. Nonetheless, the peoples of Britain have been dealing with these matters since the end of the last Ice Age. So, could you go back to the land?

Obviously, mine is not the only mind that has lately wandered to fancies of self-sufficiency; cutting loose, foregoing the trappings of urban life, shifting to a croft in the countryside, escaping the tiresome supermarket shop. It sounds dramatic, possibly overly so, but if you zoom out and examine our current times through the lens of history you will see that shifts in food security often usher in societal shifts toward agrarianism. When the structures that provide our basic needs begin to fail, we have a tendency to take matters into our own hands, to provide for our immediate communities. The pockets of urbanized farmland still seen around Rome are the result of the citizenry taking food security into their own hands when the trousers of the Roman Empire’s trade mechanisms slowly began to fall down. But we don't have to reach that far into history to see ‘back to the land’ movements trending upward.

The global depression of the 1930’s triggered the first iteration of the 20th century. In the United States, the unsustainable farming practices that led to the bitter ‘Dust Bowl’ era, described by the likes of John Steinbeck, forced families and communities to fend for themselves. This ushered in a period of modern homesteading and

community-building, and model societies offering fellowship of labour. These were especially popular amongst young people, who sought security and community spirit.

Back to the land movements can also be civic affairs; in Britain such activity was encouraged by the government, both during and after the Second World War— you’ll be familiar with ‘Digging for Victory’. This kind of self-reliance proved vital to a population experiencing a rationing of goods that continued into the 1950’s. As the century rolled on, the lifestyle continued to attract followers and enjoyed its moment of getting a little freaky in the 1960’s, when it began to run in parallel with the counter-cultural revolution. In the Californian hills around San Jose, Joan Baez established a community she dubbed ‘Struggle Mountain’, which remains community-owned to this day. At its peak, the US census recorded around 10 million people actively involved in the wider movement.

Closer to home, Donovan and his entourage formed a short-lived commune at Stein, on Skye's Waternish peninsula, soon realising that if you want to live off the land, you actually have to grow some food.

I was delighted to discover that Bristo Square’s own high hiedyin of herbology— Dee Atkinson of Atkinson’s Herbalist, Clinic & Dispensary —grew up with more successful ‘back to the land’ parents.

The movement obviously had its influence; her story is populated with a familiar cast of fascinating, strong-willed characters, with strong vision and an equally strong sense of community: John Seymour— author of The Complete Book of Self-Sufficiency -—my parents knew him and were enthused by his writing. They were ageing hippies, I suppose, and moved us to Wales from Ardnamurchan for the late 60’s and early 70’s, to a farmhouse stuck on the edge of a hillside down half a mile of track— no

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iii: Our Man in the Field bathroom! —and took on twelve acres of land to start an organic farm...with absolutely no knowledge of farming!

The first year they cut the hay using a hand scythe and we just learned as we went along; milking Jersey cows by hand; making butter; making bread; fattening up the pig and killing it and swapping the parts of it for things we needed.

Dee’s own herbal practice is clearly rooted in her experience as a back-to-the-lander, with her curiosity for creating things nurtured by her selfsufficient upbringing, surrounded by nature: My mother used to make cough syrups, and I would see this happening and get involved. And I remember a particularly fantastic year— they made homemade wine. Over 100 gallons, made of dandelions and hedgerow plants.

This influence almost seems a footnote when you consider the herbal practice that Dee Atkinson has gone on to build. For those unaware, Dee began operating out of Edinburgh institution Napiers the Herbalists in 1988, acquiring the business entirely in 1990 when presented with the opportunity to take on the lease at Bristo Square. The original business had been established in 1860 by Duncan Napier, one of the founders of the Institute of Medical Herbalists. Yet, down the generations, it had begun to move away from its raison d’être as a traditional herbal practice: It was being run as a health food shop and no one had touched the medicines or the formulas for years.

These medicines and formulas, devised by Duncan Napier, are an archival treasure to which Dee Atkinson holds the key: It was like opening Pandora’s box! All the formulas and recipes were still there, it was incredible. I researched them and rewrote them from the old-fashioned drams and fluid ounces.

The closely-guarded recipes of these illusivelylabelled proprietary blends— like the legendary pick-me-up Composition Essence, or the Nerve Debility Tonic —often contained over 30 herbal elements, each playing an important part. The process of rediscovering and reworking the Duncan Napier archive was of such a scale it became a family affair:

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iii: Our Man in the Field My dad helped with it. He was in heaven— going backward in time, as it were. My mum came and sat on the reception desk and answered the telephone while counting pills and bottling essential oils.

With new life breathed into the archival formulas and cures, Dee’s attention returned to Bristo Square, now rebranded as Atkinson’s.

My whole thing is about rebuilding the business; making herbal medicine viable and getting it back on the high street, where it should be, as the people’s medicine.

Thankfully for us, Dee is also at the heart of building the next generation of herbal practitioners in Scotland, keeping a keen eye on those whose talents she can help develop through apprenticeships or mentoring. Making careers for people, as she puts it, in its turn pushes the benefits of herbal medicine farther into the wider community. Just as the community that once surrounded Dee also nurtured other highly respected herbalists; David Hoffman, and Chancel Cabrera— Dee’s sister —have each gone on to become two of the most highly respected herbal practitioners in North America. As Dee tells it: Self-reliance, an interest in nature, and making our own way in the world was a huge influence, and we both just fell in love with the plants that surrounded us…

So, could I do it? Have I the skills? Could I go back to the land? When I used to work the Phantassie Organics fruit and vegetable stall, Patricia Stevens used to tell me: You just have to go for it. Learn on the hoof… Failure is just not an option.

I have a feeling Dee Atkinson might say the same. www.deeatkinson.net IG: @datkinsonherbalist Twitter: @deetheherbalist FB: D. Atkinson Herbalist

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Invitation

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iv: Nature Therapy

Endings and Beginnings Nathalie Moriarty A small gust of wind moves through the stand of Beech trees and a glitter of yellow, orange and brown gently falls to the ground. Another light breeze and some sparkling leaves seem to defy gravity, moving gently upwards and into the canopy of a much larger Sycamore. As I set my foot on the autumnal carpet, the leaves crunch and I feel such joy and delight, even with the cold air snapping at my cheeks. My gaze is drawn to the leaves on the ground; I see crystals of ice formed along their veins, each leaf a differently coloured canvas. Amongst the Beech and Sycamore leaves, I see the spiky seed capsules, and thousands of tiny helicopters.

on tree phytoncides have shown that those which have the greatest effect on our immune system are released by coniferous trees, particularly during warm summer days. Whilst this immune response to phytoncides may be much reduced on cold days, there are still benefits in paying attention to the patterns in nature, and to slowing down for meditative activities. Taylor (2016) has shown that viewing the fractal patterns in nature can reduce our stress levels by up to 60%. Furthermore, practising mindfulness in forest environments can improve our levels of calm and help us cope with symptoms of stress and anxiety (Li, 2018).

As a child Sycamore keys fascinated me. My dad, who was a tall guy, would drop them from a height and I would delight in trying to catch all the little helicopters that whirled around me. Autumn was undoubtedly my favourite season. Pushing through leaf drifts as high as my waist and hearing the thousands of soft rustles the dry leaves made against each other. When a gust of wind ripped through the forest, I could hear the crowns groaning as they bent forwards and backwards together, resisting its force and, inevitably, after the wind passed, a whole array of colours would come dancing through the sky. I would be waiting for them, trying to calculate the infinite impossibilities of where the leaves might make contact with the ground. Trying to be there first, I’d jump up and catch them before they fell; moving my body quickly and concentrating intensely. It was my favourite game of the season and an activity that would fit well into an autumnal Forest Bathing session for the more active among us.

Forest Bathing is about immersing all our senses in the natural environment. It helps slow our minds and focus on the present. It also adapts well to different outdoor activities, and to different ages or abilities. The key to the activity is that it should enable you to notice details in the natural environment around you. You should be surrounded by trees, although it is not entirely necessary that these trees are in a forest. Studies

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iv: Anthroposophical Views

The Heilpflanzengarten of the Anthroposophical Community Hospital in Herdecke Dora Wagner 2020 marks the centenary of Anthroposophical Medicine. Over Easter 1920, in a series of lectures to young doctors, Rudolf Steiner presented his ideas for a new, modern, integrative medicine for the first time. Later, Steiner worked with the Dutch physician Ita Wegman and the Austrian pharmacist Oskar Schmiedel to develop these impulses into an overarching medical-therapeutic concept based on a holistic view of the human being.

Ita Wegman (1876-1943) was a very special woman, far ahead of her time; she was one of the first women to study medicine, becoming a courageous and cosmopolitan doctor. In 1921 she founded the first anthroposophical clinic, in Arlesheim in Switzerland, in order to implement these new approaches to holistic medicine.

Oskar Schmiedel had begun developing the first anthroposophical medicines as early as 1912. In the following years, new formulations and manufacturing processes for holistically-oriented remedies were developed. By 1921 the results of these early endeavours had found their way into pharmaceutical practice, and the first commercial anthroposophical medicines were produced. At that time, 46 preparations were already comprising an ‘official’ list to be produced in an experimental laboratory in Arlesheim. From 1928 this laboratory was named WELEDA, and it remains the world's leading manufacturer of holistic and anthroposophical medicines to this day.

In 1935 another company was founded to produce anthroposophical medicines, this time in Germany.

WALA was established by Rudolf Hauschka, and took its name from the initials of its manufacturing processes; Warmth—Ashes, and Light—Ashes.

The company still produces around 900 medicines that address the human being holistically, and both WELEDA and WALA maintain huge medicinal plant gardens to cultivate the herbs that are harvested and processed into remedies.

1969 saw the inauguration of the first anthroposophically oriented hospital in Germany: the Herdecke Community Hospital (GKH). The founding members considered it important that medicinal plants be studied on-site and that medicines be produced from home-grown herbs, and so a medicinal plant garden was also created.

During and outwith her working hours, the hospital pharmacist was also engaged in gardening, and was responsible for the production of anthroposophical medicines from the herbs.

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iv: Anthroposophical Views

Nowadays, much has changed. Financial restrictions, new laws, and the dearth of time, mean that only tinctures and ointments from selfgrown Calendula officinalis (Marigold) and Echinacea purpurea (Purple Coneflower) are produced in the hospital’s pharmacy today.

Needless to add, the pharmacist hardly finds time to take care of the plants; the garden fell into disuse some five years ago. So, since March of this year, I have become responsible for this herb garden at the Herdecke Community Hospital. I teach Medicinal Herbalism at the University of Witten/Herdecke, where courses in the Faculty of Medicine also include plant excursions, gardening and the production of anthroposophical medicines. With the help of some of the medical students, I am trying to rebuild and re-establish this hospital garden.

The garden is open to the public. Doctors and nursing staff spend their breaks here, patients meet their relatives or simply enjoy being in nature and not in their hospital rooms, sometimes sick people are even wheeled around the garden in their beds, or doctors hold consultations with their patients in the open air. Since all visitors are very interested in medicinal plants, they take pleasure in talking to each other about healing herbs— not about diseases —and in planning to make the garden more beautiful and more pleasant. For this reason, I have begun holding a fixed ‘consultation hour’ so that visitors can talk to the gardener.

With the next issue of Herbology News, I will begin to report regularly on my encounters in the medicinal herb garden at Herdecke, and on anthroposophical approaches to the plants that grow there.

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Kenris MacLeod The Artist Wrapped in ‘You’

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v: Jazz Ecology

Nya Falang Ramsey Affifi My first encounter with this startling plant was during my years in rural Laos. Wong’s youngest, Kongngeun, was halfway up a ladder poised against a Mango tree. With machete in hand, her tiny bare feet toddled on its rickety bamboo rungs.

I lifted her down and put away the ladder. Scarcely understanding the consequences of what was to transpire, she bumbled towards me, her bright eyes sparkling and her great blade swinging. To this day I wonder what she was feeling. Her twoyear old face seemed full of innocence, without a speck of anger. And yet, the machete arced fatefully towards my protesting hand.

Moments stretched out— in vain —as its metal edge approached and then lodged itself into the top of my thumb. Her face melted into fear.

Wasting no time to scold, Wong sprinted to a nearby Pineapple field and emerged seconds later with a clump of bright green leaves. I recognized the plant immediately as Nya Falang; that sticky, pungent plant I had spent months weeding in a nearby Mulberry orchard. He chewed it into paste and slathered it onto my gushing wound. The bleeding stopped immediately. Thumb bandaged, I later reflected on what had happened.

Speeding up platelet aggregation (the mechanism I supposed in play), slows down bleeding. Two opposing rates of change held together a single process. In scientific articles, I later learned Chromolaena odorata accomplished this haemostatic feat by changing the rate of activity of some genes in my thumb’s fibroblasts (Pandith et al, 2013). Different temporal shifts coordinated across different biological scales. The protagonists in this timeshifting wizardry are stigmasterol, scutellarein tetramethyl ether, flavonoids, and

chromomoric acid, which seem to serve antiherbivory and antibacterial roles in the plant’s defense (Vijayaraghavan et al, 2017). Incidentally, these chemicals are likely toxic to the plant itself, and so are normally stowed away in the plant cells’ vacuoles. Wong’s teeth had to cut the cells open so the plant could heal my own cut open cells.

C. odorata’s regional names hint at its sharp and then haemorrhagic arrival into various people’s natural history. Known as ‘French Weed’ (ຫຍ້ າຝະຣັ່ ງ, Nya Falang) in Laos, but as ‘Herbe de Laos’ in France, C. odorata is actually native to Central America, the Caribbean, and the Northern part of South America. Since the mid 20th century, it has spread rapidly, with now pan-continental distribution in tropical and subtropical climates (though apparently with minimal presence in Australia). When I google ‘world’s worst tropical weeds,’ C. odorata comes up ahead of other notorious troublemakers of the global South, including Imperata cylindrica, Cyperus rotundus, Commelina benghalensis, and Eichhornia crassipes. Its prolific habits damage cropland, lay waste to pasture, and ruin plantation productivity.

The same chemicals that saved me a long and bumpy journey to a local health centre and perhaps a serious infection, undoubtedly contribute to its ecological success and its reputation as a scourge.

Emerson’s (1880) notion that ‘a weed is a plant whose virtues have never been discovered’ will seem naive and dangerous to most farmers. I have seen enough family crops cramped and cluttered into oblivion to sympathize with those who despise C. odorata. Nevertheless, I have benefited from

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v: Jazz Ecology

the virtues of this pungent coagulator. Not only did it heal my hand, it thrust into consciousness the surprise of discovering hidden powers in commonplace things. The humdrum prevalence and perhaps even the menace of highly successful plants sets them up to shatter our preconceptions all the more forcefully. We should be grateful for these ruptures and, indeed, seek them out.

I do not mean to suggest there is no place for controlling this or any other weed. Agriculture, in any foreseeable future, depends on it. But I wonder if it is possible to appreciate even the vigorous plants we commit to weaken or kill, that their life be taken through acts that pierce hatred with gratitude, to speckle their tedious annihilation with flecks of wonder.

References Emerson, R.W. (1880) Fortune of the Republic, in Prose Works. Boston, MA: Houghton, Osgood & Co. Pandith, H.; Zhang, X.; Liggett, J.; Min, K-W, Gritsanapan, W. & Baek, S.J. (2013) ‘Hemostatic and Wound Healing Properties of Chromolaena odorata Leaf Extract’, ISRN Dermatology Article ID168269, pp. 1-8.

Vijayaraghavan, K.; Rajkumar, J.; Bukhari, S.N.D.; Al-Sayed, B. & Seyed, M.A. (2017). ‘Chromolaena odorata: A neglected weed with a wide spectrum of pharmacological activities’, in Molecular Medicine Reports, vol.15:3, pp. 1007-1016.

Illustration: Ramsey Affifi

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v: The Chemistry Column

Sea Buckthorn: The Wonder Berry Dr. Michelle Armstrong Sea Buckthorn (Hippophae rhamnoides) is a small, spiny, deciduous shrub found widely in Northern Europe and Asia (Sayegh et al., 2014). The orange berries are used in the treatment of a variety of ailments including gastrointestinal disorders, menstrual disorders, skin diseases, and asthma (Larmo et al., 2014), and in reducing the risks of cardiovascular disorders such as high blood cholesterol, thrombosis, and atherosclerosis (Eccleston et al., 2002). We are all aware of the positive link between heart health and the consumption of fruit and vegetables; this is due to their high antioxidant level (Esfahani et al., 2011).

Sea Buckthorn contains a huge amount of antioxidants including Vitamin E, Vitamin C, Carotenoids, and Flavonoids. In fact, this small berry is reported to have the highest concentration of Vitamin C when compared to other berries (Sayegh et al., 2014). But what is the importance of these antioxidants in the human body?

Antioxidants are naturally-occurring chemicals that are found in some enzymes produced by our bodies, as well as in some foods, such as fruits and vegetables. They work by blocking potentially harmful oxidation reactions. Oxidation reactions are chemical reactions that involve a transfer of electrons from one molecule to another. This transfer process can result in the formation of free radicals. Electrons like to be in pairs, but free radicals are molecules that end up with an uneven number of electrons. This makes them unstable, easily reacting with other molecules in order to steal their electrons and gain electron stability.

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v: The Chemistry Column Oxidation is a necessary process, occurring in the human body through normal physiological functions like digestion and breathing; however, a balance between the number of free radicals and antioxidants is required to ensure these bodily functions are healthy (Lobo et al., 2010). If the number of free radicals cannot be regulated by the body, a condition known as oxidative stress can occur. It is this oxidative stress that can adversely alter human cells, resulting in diseases such as atherosclerosis (clogged arteries). The high antioxidant concentration in Sea Buckthorn offers electrons to stabilise the free radicals, thus counteracting the catastrophic chain of chemical reactions that can lead to cardiovascular disease.

It’s no surprise Sea Buckthorn is known as ‘The Wonder Berry’ within the pharmaceutical, cosmetic and food industries.

Now you know it’s good for you, so the only decision you have to make is whether you want to try it as an ice cream, or in a whisky cocktail…

References Eccleston, C.; Baoru, Y.; Tahvonen, R.; Kallio, H.; Rimbach, G. H. & Minihane, A. M. (2002) 'Effects of an antioxidant-rich juice (Sea Buckthorn) on risk factors for coronary heart disease in humans’, in The Journal of Nutritional Biochemistry, 13: 34635 Esfahani, A.; Wong, J. M. W.; Truan, J.; Villa, C. R.; Mirrahimi, A.; Srichaikul, K. & Kendall, C. W. C. (2011) ‘Health Effects of Mixed Fruit and Vegetable Concentrates: A Systematic Review of the Clinical Interventions’, in Journal of the American College of Nutrition, 30: 285-294 Larmo, P. S.; Järvinen, R. L.; Yang, B. & Kallio, H. P. (2014) ’Sea Buckthorn, Dry Eye, and Vision’.

Lobo, V.; Patil, A.; Phatak, A. & Chandra, N. (2010) ‘Free radicals, antioxidants and functional foods: Impact on human health’, in Pharmacognosy Reviews, 4: 118-126 Sayegh, M.; Miglio, C. & Ray, S. (2014) ‘Potential cardiovascular implications of Sea Buckthorn berry consumption in humans’, in International Journal of Food Sciences and Nutrition, 65: 521-528 See also: Suryakumar, G. & Gupta, A. (2011) ‘Medicinal and therapeutic potential of Sea Buckthorn (Hippophae rhamnoides L.)’, in Journal of Ethnopharmacology, 138: 268-278

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Kenris MacLeod Muriel’s Wood

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vi: Garden Gems

Garlic & Leaf Fall Ruth Crighton-Ward At this time of year, we are starting to prepare the garden for the oncoming winter. The clocks go back, and the nights get longer and darker. In Central Scotland the frosts usually start around the latter part of November. Unfortunately, due to climate change, the more recent winters have become warmer and wetter than previous years and tend to bring heavy winds and rain. Much of the work done in the garden towards the end of the year is about preparation for the following year. There is still some weeding to be done, but on the whole growth has started to slow down.

In November, then, our tasks include protecting plants which could be at risk from the more extremes of weather. Horticultural fleece can be placed around plants which are susceptible to frost damage; it helps to keep the soil at a slightly warmer temperature as well as providing some shelter from the wind. For some more vulnerable plants, cloches can be placed over them to provide protection from the elements. It is also important to stake plants which are taller and could be damaged by the wind. This is also the time when ornamental spring flowering bulbs should be planted. Plants such as Tulips (Tulipa spp.) and Daffodils (Narcissus spp.) provide some welcome colour during March and April. For even earlier flowering, also plant Snowdrop bulbs (Galanthus nivalis).

Planting Garlic (Allium sativum) is a job to be done now, so your Garlic will be ready for harvest around June next year. As a medicinal herb, Garlic has been revered for thousands of years. It was prized by the Ancient Greeks and Egyptians for its ability to fight off illness. Some of its benefits include boosting the immune system and reducing blood pressure. It’s a powerful antibiotic and good for detoxifying the body.

Garlic can be planted anytime between October and February, but I prefer to plant it in October or November, as the cloves require a spell of colder weather to develop into bulbs. It is best to get it in the ground so it can stay there throughout the winter. Garlic can either be soft necked or hard necked. There are currently over 600 named varieties, so it’s worthwhile researching which varieties may be best for your needs, soil type etc. prior to purchase. One of my personal favourites is a type of soft neck garlic called “Solent Wight”. It’s extremely hardy and produces large cloves which can be stored for a long time.

Split the bulbs into individual cloves, but only do this immediately prior to planting— if left for a while, individual cloves can dry out. On average, each bulb will provide 8-10 cloves. This year, I planted 8 bulbs which gave me 67 individual cloves. Each of those cloves will form a new bulb.

Choose a sunny spot. Garlic can be grown in the ground or in pots, if you are short of space. One of the advantages of growing in pots is they can be moved if the first position isn’t sunny or sheltered enough. Plant each clove below the surface of the soil, around 10cm deep. If Garlic cloves haven’t been planted deeply enough, they can be pushed to the surface as the soil freezes and expands. The flat part of the clove should be at the bottom, with the pointy part facing up. If planting in rows, allow 10-15cm between each clove and 30cm between rows. A small tip here is not to cover the cloves until all have been planted. That way, you can check the spacing of the cloves and adjust as required. Cover with soil, and that is basically it.

They will not require watering unless there is a particularly dry spell, which is unlikely at this time of year.

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vi: Garden Gems

Elsewhere in the garden, leaf clearance will have started in earnest. Although fallen leaves can provide shelter for insects, they can also harbour pests and diseases. On grass, they can lie in damp clumps depriving the plants underneath of sunlight. If you have a pond or water feature, it’s a good idea to place netting over it to prevent leaves falling in. The leaves will decompose in the water and release nutrients and gases which can be harmful to aquatic plants and wildlife.

A good way of using those fallen leaves is to create leaf mould. Rake the leaves up from lawns or driveways and place in sacks or binbags. Add some water to keep the leaves moist, then tie the bag loosely to allow you to open them on occasion. Pierce a few holes in the bag for ventilation. Place the bags somewhere out of the way, such as behind a shed, and leave them. Don’t expect them to be ready after a couple of weeks; gardening is a great way to teach us patience. This is a slow process; it can take up to two years for the leaves to break down. When broken down, the leaf mould should resemble tea leaves and can be used in a variety of ways. On its own it is not as nutritional as compost. However, it does make an excellent soil conditioner. For instance, if your soil is heavy and clay-like, then adding leaf mould can make it more manageable. It can also be spread round the base of plants as a mulch. When combined with compost, it can make a great potting mix. If blended with sand, it can be used as a seed compost. Seed compost is typically finer than other composts and contains fewer nutrients, to allow the seedlings to grow more easily.

Next month, we’ll look at digging and preparing beds ready for planting in the spring. In the meantime, happy gardening!

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Kenris MacLeod A Dream of Wings

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vii: Plantstuffs

Blackberry Time!

Elizabeth Oliver There is a special, single track lane near our house.

It nestles under the ridge of the hill and is often the beginning, or the end, of a lovely dog walk or bike ride. To one side of the lane, fields drop away to a winding waterway that eventually runs through the village. On the higher side, the bank rises steeply and seems to tuck right under the escarpment.

After the heart-pounding climb to the top of the lane, there is an informal crossroads; turn left and you can freewheel down another steep hill, turn right and the muddy farm-track might once more swallow your wellies. Straight ahead is an ancient green lane, with banks either side, which continues for a mile or more to an old coaching inn and the original post route.

During summer months the verges are filled with Wild Honeysuckle and Dog Roses, and tangled brambles. Today, the verges were full of glistening blackberries, signalling my favourite autumn job— picking the berries, and making bramble jelly.

I can’t quite remember when our family tradition started. It was certainly more than ten years ago that the children and I first scrambled up the bank to pick ripe berries in plastic ice-cream tubs. We would take them home to use some in blackberry and apple crumble, but most of the haul was cooked with a little water and hung in a muslin cloth to drip into the preserving pan overnight.

Everybody knew not to disturb the precarious arrangement of muslin bag propped over pan— one false move and the whole lot would collapse, splashing the walls a vibrant shade of purple!

Bramble Jelly Pick blackberries.

Put blackberries in a large saucepan or preserving pan, and add enough water to just about cover them.

Heat gently until all the fruit collapses.

Spoon the cooked blackberries into a muslin cloth or clean cotton tea towel, and secure into a bundle.

Hang the blackberry bundle above the clean saucepan/preserving pan, to collect the dripping juice. Leave overnight.

Measure the collected juice.

Add one pound of sugar for every pint of liquid. Also add the juice of one lemon.

Heat gently until the sugar is dissolved, then bring the liquid to a rolling boil.

The jelly is ready when wrinkles form on a small spoonful dropped onto a plate.

Ladle the hot jelly into clean, sterilized jars.

When the jars are cool, put them away in your cupboard, ready to conjure the last of summer on a cold winter’s day.

The children aren’t at home all the time now, so toast and jam for tea doesn’t happen quite as often. Still, I can’t resist the gentle rhythm of picking and preserving the blackberries to make sparkling jars of delicious bramble jelly.

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vii: Plantstuffs

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Kenris MacLeod Invincible Summer

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viii: Plants and Places

Land and Language LearnGaelic The highly informative LearnGaelic.Scot website tells us that Gaelic uses only 18 of the 26 letters found in English orthography. Moreover, in testimony to the close relationships Gaelic-speaking communities have held with the land, and the importance of trees and forests in Scotland— particularly in the Highlands and some of the Islands: Traditionally, each letter in Gaelic is named after a tree. These aren’t [now] used in everyday Gaelic [either] for names of trees or letters…

Nonetheless, herbologists, linguists and herbal folklorists may be interested to learn the traditional names of the Gaelic letters. To demonstrate the difference between these traditional names and modern Gaelic, some of the contemporary names for trees are also given below.

Letter

Tree

Ailm Beith Coll Dair Eadha Feàrn Gort Uath Iogh Luis Muin Nuin Oir/Onn Peith bhog Ruis Suil Teine Ur

Elm/Fir Birch Hazel Oak Aspen Fern Gorse Hawthorn Yew Rowan Vine Ash Gorse Downy Birch Elder Willow Whin Heather

Modern Gaelic beithe/ craobh-bheithe calltainn/ craobh-challtainn darach/ craobh-dharaich

iubhar/ craobh-iubhair caorann/ craobh-chaorann uinnseann/craobh-uinnsinn

In modern Gaelic, the names of the letters are sounded much as they are in English, unless the letter is carrying an accent (a stràc). To learn more about this beautiful language and its traditions, take a look at www.learngaelic.scot.

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viii: Foraging Through Folklore

Under the Skin Ella Leith Thinking about thorns, my mind immediately catches on the bloodthirsty imagery of folktales and Grimms’ fairy-tales. I recall the forest of thorns surrounding Sleeping Beauty’s castle; of Snow White being scratched by thorn thickets as she flees from the huntsman; of Rapunzel’s prince falling from the tower to have his eyes ripped out on the thornbushes below. Even more compelling to me are two folktales that I was lucky enough to hear, when I was a child, from the Scottish Traveller storyteller, Duncan Williamson.

The first is the titular story transcribed in his published collection of tales, A Thorn in the King’s Foot (1989). For years, the only detail I could remember was that the thorn grows into a branch protruding from the king’s big toe— a horrifying image that I’ve never been able to shake. The other, which I knew as ‘Jack and the Moneylender’, tells of a magic fiddle that forces those who hear it to dance unceasingly. Jack uses it first to punish an old man he has tricked into crawling under a thornbush; later, he plays his fiddle as his last request on the gallows to blackmail the hangmen into pardoning him. I was fascinated by this story, torn between relishing the juxtaposition of joyful dancing and bloodied skin, and being outraged on behalf of the moneylender who didn’t seem to have done anything particularly wrong. It left a worse taste in my mouth once I learnt that it’s a version of the anti-Semitic international tale often called ‘The Jew Among Thorns’. The oldest versions of the story seem to be anti-clerical rather than anti-Semitic (Haas, 2007: 787), but I can’t shake the uncomfortable connotations any more than I can shake a macabre delight in the imagery of a forced dance inside a thornbush.

Metaphorically as literally, thorns get under the skin.

It’s not difficult to relate thorns to punishment in these tales. The forest of thorns punishes the princes for their audacity in attempting to reach the Sleeping Beauty (named Briar Rose— literally a rose amongst thorns) before the hundred years are up:

the thorns held firmly together, as though they had hands, and the young men became stuck in them, could not free themselves, and died miserably.

The thornbushes below Rapunzel’s tower punish the prince who dared penetrate the witch’s defences: when the witch tells him that, “The cat got her and will scratch your eyes out as well. …

You will never see her again!”, it is not she but the thorns that carry out her threat of blinding him. In ‘A Thorn in the King’s Foot’, a thorn fulfils the curse of an old woman against a king who tried to have his hunchbacked son murdered: as she passes him, it embeds itself in his foot and grows there for an agonising fourteen years. And in ‘Jack and the Moneylender’, the thornbush enables Jack to punish the moneylender for… being a moneylender.

Thorns are associated with punishment elsewhere in folklore and early modern literature. The man in the moon, according to Chaucer, was exiled there as punishment for theft and given a thornbush to carry (Thiselton Dyer, 1883: 65). Supernatural destruction is wrought against those who cut down thorn trees themselves, as outlined in Margaret Baker’s Discovering the Folklore of Plants (1996).

She cites examples of railway lines being rerouted and buildings redesigned to avoid disturbing a thorn tree, with dire consequences for those who cut them down without suitable reason or precaution.

But alongside punishment, thorns bring protection. A lone hawthorn tree, a ‘fairy thorn’, may guard an entrance to the fairy kingdom; it may also protect passers-by from lightning strikes.

According to one informant, ‘‘hawthorn among your hedging plants wards off bad fairies’’ (Baker, 1996: 69). Indeed, the forest of thorns surrounding Sleeping Beauty’s castle are protective: whereas a sharp point found in the domestic sphere— a spindle —causes her harm, the thorny hedges defend her sleeping person against intruders. Of course, the prince-skewering thorns are really defending the prescribed duration of the magic rather than the princess herself; they melt away

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viii: Foraging Through Folklore

after a hundred years to become ‘nothing but large, beautiful flowers that separated by themselves, allowing [the prince] to pass through without harm’. This is no tale of victory against supernatural powers, but of waiting for the right time.

The passage of time may let an enchantment run its course, or it may bring another form of healing.

In ‘A Thorn in the King’s Foot’, for fourteen years the king feels guilt and sorrow for (he believes) murdering his son and causing the heartbroken death of his wife. He is wracked with pain from the sprouting thorn in his foot: The king offert rewards, he offert everything, he was in agony. People came from different countries, wisemen came an examint it, they cut the thorn off his foot, shaved hit, bathed hit, annoint’t it with oil – next day it wis back as far as ever – there’s no way in the world that the king cuid get any peace or any rest.

He does not make the connection, however, between the literal and metaphorical thorn in his flesh. Only after fourteen years does the old woman who rescued the hunchbacked prince tell the boy: I think the time hes come … that you mus go an settle the problem between yir father, you an me.

The son goes unrecognised to the palace and gently removes the thorn. The king calls it magic, but the boy says, No, it’s no magic, no magic in any way.

If not magic, then what? Forgiveness, perhaps.

But it’s the end of the story I find particularly interesting. The forgiveness is not unconditional: the king must first wander and work amongst his subjects for two hundred days, leaving the humpbacked stranger to rule in his stead. The formerly selfish king learns to care about others and sees first-hand how benign governance enriches the lives he formerly despised. He comes back changed, and only then is it revealed that the hunchback is his believed-dead son. But neither

does forgiveness lead to full reconciliation. The king offers his son the kingdom: An the hunchback said, ‘No, Father. Now you’re happy and free. An so am I. If ye ever want to find me, you can find me with ma mother in the forest, the only person that ever was good an kind to me.’

An the hunchback walkit away back to the forest tae his auld mother, and left the king to his own thoughts…

Blood is not thicker than water here. It might be hoped this encounter stays under the king’s skin for even longer than the thorn did. For the hunchbacked son, however, the matter is laid to rest. He’s found the source of the pain, pulled out the thorn, and let it go.

References Baker, M. (1996) Discovering the Folklore of Plants, Shire Publications.

Grimm, J. & W. (1812) Children’s and Household Tales. Trans. Ashliman, D. L. 1998-2020, www.pitt.edu/~grimmtales.html : 12.

Rapunzel www.pitt.edu/~dash/grimm012.html 50.

Little Briar Rose www.pitt.edu/~dash/grimm050.html 53.

Little Snow White www.pitt.edu/~dash/grimm053.html 110. The Jew In The Thorns – www.pitt.edu/~dash/grimm110.html Haas, D., ed. (2007) The Greenwood Encyclopedia of Folktales and Fairy Tales. Greenwood Publishing Thiselton Dyer, T. F. (1883) Folk-Lore of Shakespeare. Dover Publications.

Williamson, D. & L. (1989) A Thorn in the King’s Foot: Folktales of the Scottish Travelling People.

Penguin Folklore Library.

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Kenris MacLeod The Blameless Trees The

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ix: Botanica Fabula

A Magical Flight Amanda Edmiston As the year progresses, our movements are curtailed. Regardless of our personal position, our fears are various. Fears that sit and persist, oft supressed but omnipresent. We are lacking a vital nutrient.

Whether we recognise it or not, we are missing the discovery of new stories. And we miss simply hearing the old ones— the ones we all need to know. We miss passing through different places and discovering what those stories, both new and old, have to tell us. We are having to find ways to adapt to greater repetition in the midst of greater stress, resulting from the pandemic and all its associated circumstance. Gone are the challenges and transitions demanded by activity, travel and connection with people and places; lacking are the usual opportunities to hear stories and engage first-hand with art, with music, with dance and culture— those things that help carry the mind — the works of the muses, sprung from the earth by the hooves of the winged horse, Pegasus.

We need to keep telling, to keep hearing stories.

We need access to those wild places where incredible foods grow; foods that give our minds the nutrients needed to cope with stressors. We need to keep sharing stories. We need to allow stories to grow, to be kept alive. We need to use them to help explain the lands we live in, their history and our connection to them. Stories give us words that create safe places to look at complex and changing things, they gift us resolutions and outcomes packaged in mesmerising dreams, they teach us through their anecdote, metaphor, and

rhythm. Even as society moves, adapts and changes, it is important for people to keep discovering and learning stories— of the new paths they may encounter, of the people who have walked similar paths before, of the patterns the land offers in its rituals, folklore, and legends.

Stories used in this way gift us greater understanding. They encourage empathy, respect, and consideration, they nourish us and through them we learn to understand each other and the land we live in.

So, join me for a moment as we sit and sip an amber-hued infusion— a tea made from a berry hailed for thousands of years as a source of nutrients that help the body adapt to change and stress. With a note of bitterness from a leaf or two gracing the warm liquid, we travel back over 3,000 years to a glittering landscape, edged by azure oceans and dominated by the presence of Mount Olympus... …

Imagine gliding from sun-drenched Corinth, freed from the golden cheek-plates of the bridle fastened to your face by Bellerophon. Imagine leaving behind the ice-cold water of the Periene spring, savouring the tart taste of juice from a berry that you accidentally grazed, alongside your favourite leaf. Soaring above the clouds yet beneath the stars, you catch a current under your shining, silvery wings and swoop down, hooves dipping into warm seawater as you cross the Aegean Sea. The sky your earth, wings carrying you as feet.

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ix: Botanica Fabula Now galloping across the land from Turkey, then crossing the Zagros mountains, your strong wings shadowing the shape of the earth beneath. The chariot, fastened to your flanks by Zeus himself, is laden with thunderbolts. Your shiny, omeganourished mane whips in the wind as you fly north over Turkmenistan and on to Nepal. Your path is marked by jewel-like orange berries, offering the perfect antidote to the thin oxygen of the higher altitudes. As you soar, the world spinning below, your dancing hooves open up springs of the sweetest water, nourishing the muses and gifting art, story and song.

Child of Poseidon, dark God of the Sea and tamer of wild horses. Born from the neck of Medusa at the hand of Perseus. Carrier of heroes, slayer of Chimera. Your hooves dance lightly on the earth, wings lifting you ever upward until, cosmos-bound and glistening, you find eternity amongst the stars; your appearance bringing forth Spring and hailing thunderstorms in the country of your birth. Your favourite foodstuff— those berries —still offering an easier path upwards to the heights; they hold the key to help us cope with stress and altitude sickness.

This year, we may not be able to sip tea together and listen to tales of magical, winged horses, in a garden with a view of mountains, allowing the gifts of the muses to carry the weight of our minds— but we can still share a story here and enrich our brains with the food of the gods. Try a Sea Buckthorn berry or two and if Hippophae rhamnoides, the favourite food of Pegasus, inspires a song or a story, then do let me know. I'd love to hear it.

References Ovid (2000 edition) Book 3, 449 ff, in Fasti, eds & tr. A. Boyle and F. Woodward, Penguin Classics: London Hesiod (1914 edition) ‘Theogony’, in Hesiod. The Homeric Hymns and Homerica, Tr. H. G. EvelynWhite, William Heinemann: New York.

Apollodorus, of Athens (1975 edition) The Library of Greek Mythology. Tr. K. Aldrich. Conorado Press: Lawrence, Kansas Stobdan, T.; Chaurasia, O.; Korekar, G.; Mundra, S.; Ali, Z.; Yadav, A. & Singh, S. (2010) ‘Attributes of Seabuckthorn (Hippophae rhamnoides L.) to Meet Nutritional Requirements in High Altitude’, in Defence Science Journal, 60 (2): 226-230

Picture credit: Almanach des Muses, 1767

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ix: StAnza Presents

Anna Crowe Gollop’s for Rosy

Gollop was our grandmother’s butcher.

Saying his name out loud, you swallowed a lump of gristle whole. Even the thought of going to Gollop’s made us gulp, made my little green-eyed sister’s eyes grow rounder, greener. Swags of rabbits dangled at the door in furry curtains; their eyes milky, blood congealed around their mouths like blackcurrant-jelly.

You’d to run a gauntlet of paws.

Inside, that smell of blood and sawdust still in my nostrils. Noises. The thump as a cleaver fell; flinchings, aftershocks as sinews parted, bone splintered.

The wet rasp of a saw. My eyes were level with the chopping bench.

Its yellow wood dipped in the middle like the bed I shared with Rosy.

Sometimes a trapdoor in the floor was folded back. Through clouds of frost our eyes made out wooden steps, then huge shapes shawled in ice—the cold-store.

Into which the butcher fell, once, bloody apron and all.

When my grandparents went to see Don Juan, and told us how it ended —Like Mr Gollop! I whispered.

Mr Gollop only broke his leg, but Crash! Bang! Wallop!

Went Mr Gollop! we chanted from our sagging bed, giggles celebrating his downfall, cancelling his nasty shop.

As the Co-op did a few years later when it opened on the High Street.

Giving him the chop.

Anna Crowe’s poetry includes two Peterloo collections and three Mariscat chapbooks, has been recorded for the Poetry Archive, and translated into Castilian, Catalan, German and Italian. Her third collection, Not on the Side of the Gods, was published in 2019 by Arc. She has won a number of awards for her work, including the Peterloo Poetry Prize, the Callum Macdonald Memorial Award and most recently the Elmet Prize in 2018. She is acclaimed for her translations, which include collections by Pedro Serrano (Mexico), Josep Lluís Aguiló (Mallorca) and Joan Margarit (Catalonia). Maps of Desire, poems by the Catalan poet Manuel Forcano was published by Arc in 2019 (PBS Autumn Recommendation). Anna was a co-founder and former Artistic Director of StAnza. www.annacrowe.co.uk StAnza brings poetry to audiences and enables encounters with poetry through events and projects in Scotland and beyond, especially their annual spring festival in St Andrews. www.stanzapoetry.org Facebook: stanzapoetry Instagram: @stanzapoetry

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Kenris MacLeod The Artist and ‘You’

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x: Book Club

The Medicinal Forest Handbook (Stobart, Anne; Permanent Publications, 2020)

Reviewer: Marianne Hughes A few of us are aiming to develop a small medicinal forest garden in a corner of Figgate Park, Edinburgh and this book has been a good companion. It’s written by a medical herbalist who set up Holt Wood Herbs in Devon, in 2005. An informative and practical handbook, it includes stories of forest and medicinal herb gardens across the UK— including Poyntzfield Herb Nursery in the Black Isle.

The book is divided into two parts. In Part 1 the author details how to approach designing, establishing and maintaining a forest garden.

She includes tables (which sound boring, but in fact are a useful way to present a considerable amount of information) outlining soil preferences, height of growth, sun/shade/spacing, and medicinal actions. In addition to a section on how to propagate from seeds or cuttings, and how to save/store your own seeds, the author devotes a chapter to sustainable harvesting. She even gives examples of how the levels of active constituents differ according to the season, reinforcing what all herbologists know (from experience)— that labelling is very important!

There are many books that can be used for practical guidance in herbal preparations, so this one may not be your go-to favourite.

However, it does provide a number of recipes which explain tinctures, syrups, oxymels, fruit leathers, glycerites, capsules, hydrosols, poultices, infusions, incense sticks and balms/ointments; in this way it is comprehensive.

For the reader who is interested in commercial opportunities, the author concludes Part 1 with ‘Scaling up the Harvest’, which covers all areas relevant to a business venture.

In Part 2 is a directory of forty trees and shrubs.

For each, Stobart includes: description of habitat; cultivation/hardiness/harvesting; pests and diseases; and seed propagation.

The therapeutic uses section outlines traditional uses, medicinal actions and uses, clinical applications and research, sample preparations and dosage, plus key constituents and safety.

This section is well laid out, accessible (plenty of photographs) and informative. We learn the benefits of companion planting, for example that pairing Cherry trees (Prunus spp.) with Lemon Balm (Melissa officinalis) provides the shade that increases the oil content of the Lemon Balm. The information on hardiness— always useful to know —is backed up with climate maps for Europe and the USA. The author comments on the shortage of organically certified seed and locally grown nursery stock, and provides an appendix of resources.

As the climate emergency develops, bringing more extreme weather, planting diversity in trees, shrubs and herbs —with differing sizes, structures and layers —helps to provide resilience for the land on which we all rely. I recommend this book is a useful resource for small, and large-scale enterprises.

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x: Book Club

The Prisoner’s Herbal (Nicole Rose, Active Distribution, 2019)

Reviewer: Edie Turner Nicole Rose, an anarchist organiser and animal rights campaigner, was inspired to write this book whilst serving a 3.5-year prison sentence.

As a consequence, it intertwines social justice and herbalism with a refreshing directness and practicality.

Created to support incarcerated women reclaim their health in the face of the medical neglect and lack of nutrition endemic in women’s prisons in the UK, it focusses on introducing the reader to plants that like to grow between the cracks in concrete, in scrublands and tarmac yards, as well some that might grow in the prison garden. The book also includes a section on ‘canteen remedies’; using spices, vegetables, and other widely-available ingredients. Conveniently, the lenses through which Rose writes also mean that The Prisoner’s Herbal is ideal for anyone who wants to forage, but is limited to an urban landscape. Whereas many herbological guides and foraging books use complicated terminology, steeped in a patriarchal history, Rose presents a manifesto for herbology in our time: a reclamation of health as resistance for communities marginalised by our current system.

In presenting each plant’s profile she gives a clear illustration to aid identification, alongside methods of preparation that don’t require any special equipment, nor any time spent decocting and making tinctures. I read the book whilst a long-term volunteer in the refugee camps at Calais, and I was able to recreate Rose’s suggestions with just the plants I could find on my 10 minute walks of the caravan park, using equipment available in my tiny shared caravan. And, for those reading from prison, there are tips on how to dry your foraged goods in books, where to hide produce in your cell, and how not to draw attention to yourself as you start to spend all your time with plants.

As much as it is informative and can be used as a practical guide, for me the most striking feature of The Prisoner’s Herbal is its ideology: it reminded me of the importance of the role of herbology in the fight for global and climate justice. Reclaiming this knowledge is resistance. It is a part of reclaiming our autonomy; of caring for our communities; of connecting with our planet, our folklore, our history. When we uncover this knowledge, we remember ourselves as a part of the web of the world around us. And when we reclaim it in this way— as direct action against a system of neglect and oppression —we act as a part of that web, too.

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x: Book Club

Why Willows Weep (The Woodland Trust, Indie Books, 2011)

Reviewer: Kyra Pollitt A recent online folk fiction writing course led me to this anthology, so I was expecting the nineteen authors gathered in these pages to have rewritten versions of tales familiar to Dr. Ella Leith (Foraging through Folklore) and Amanda Edmiston (Botanica Fabula). Not so.

The subheading of this volume— ‘Contemporary Tales from the Woods’ —is the key. That’s not to say there aren’t traditional tropes here, as the satisfyingly rounded ending of James Robertson’s tale testifies: To this day the aspen’s leaves are sometimes known as ‘old wives’ tongues’, a name that springs, perhaps, from a tale such as this.

Yet other writers embrace the contemporary in myriad, bold ways. Tracy Chevalier’s story of the Birch, in which the young female character is too intelligent for her dim-witted suitors, begins: Birch trees did not always have silver bark. There was a time when their trunks were the grey-brown of most other trees. It was sex that changed things. It always does.

And, indeed, sex is a theme echoed in other contributions. Phillipa Gregory’s encounter with Holly is positively, and therapeutically, sensual: He is King Holly and he slides up the sash window of my bedroom and steps over the sill, sure of his welcome. He lies with me and I cannot resist him, his mouth scratches my lips; and my naked body, white as the moon, is burnished red as a holly berry under the prickle of his touch…

Rachel Billington takes a broader view: The wild cherry tree is a hermaphrodite, both male and female, and more than a little poisonous. This didn’t stop the cuckoo falling in love with him (and her).

Thus, although a light and entertaining volume, this is mostly a story book for adults. But not all these tales pivot on sexuality. Catherine O’Flynn, for example, gives a darkly hilarious account of innocent miscommunication between trees and humans: the limes trees decided to extend the initiative to all the cars in the road.

They loved to see the people wave their fists in gratitude, to hear them phone the local authority and tell them all about the incredible sap. The people spent more time out on the street now, harvesting the glue from their cars with sponges and buckets, avoiding one another’s eyes and staring instead with great intensity at the trees around them.

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x: Book Club

The editor— Tracy Chevalier again —has gathered new tales on nineteen of the UK’s native trees; Ash, Aspen, Beech, Birch, Blackthorn, Cherry, Chestnut, Crab Apple, Elm, Hawthorn, Holly, Lime, Maple, Oak, Rowan, Scots Pine, Sycamore, Willow, and Yew. The contributions are the perfect length for a wee bedtime story, to fuel a night’s dreaming; as Kate Mosse’s tale notes: If you listen carefully, you will hear the trees speak all the words they have captured in the seams of their leaves…

The tales are inventive, the voices various, and the writing often gorgeous. Here’s the opening to Ali Smith’s, for example: Every question holds its answer, like every answer holds its question, bound so close that they travel together like the wings on either side of a seed.

Are you reading something you would recommend to others?

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

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

Do you have a book you’d like to submit for potential review?

Post to: The Editor Herbology News Glen House, 3 Reinigeadal, Isle of Harris.

HS3 3BD

Like the two wings, each story is prefaced by an enigmatic and colourful illustration from Leanne Shapton, the ‘twentieth contributor’.

But you can make a contribution, too— every purchase allows The Woodland Trust to plant ‘at least one native tree’. This book comes highly recommended as a stocking filler for the nature-loving romantics on your Christmas list.

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xi: The Herbologist’s Diary

RESERVED We know it’s very hard to offer events and organise gatherings right now, but we’d like you to know that we are holding this space for our community.

This is a page for sharing news of free (non-paying) events, gatherings and happenings.

Posting here is and will remain completely free of charge.

Stay safe, stay connected.

Contact: herbologynews@gmail.com

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xii: Contributors Ramsey Affifi is Lecturer in Science (Biology) Education and Environmental Philosophy at the University of Edinburgh. http://ramseyaffifi.org Dr Michelle Armstrong is a Formulation Scientist by trade but is now studying to be a Secondary Chemistry Teacher at Moray House School of Education and Sport within the University of Edinburgh. She loves being outdoors, exploring local nature trails with her family, and hopes to bring this love of nature into the classroom.

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 ConwayPayne. Retirement has also given her the opportunity to develop another of her interests— an artistic practice centred in drawing and painting.

Ruth Crighton-Ward has had a long interest in plants and nature, although her first career was in Stage Management. After 18 years working in a variety of Scottish theatres, she decided to go into gardening. She took her RHS Level 2 in Horticulture, as well as a Certificate in Practical Horticulture at RBGE. In 2014 she started her own gardening business, which has proved successful. In 2018, alongside her full- time work as a gardener, she returned to the RBGE for a Diploma in Herbology.

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

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

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 interest and 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

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. @leithyface

Nathalie Moriarty is an Accredited Practitioner with the Institute for Outdoor Learning, and a graduate of the RBGE Diploma in Herbology. She works full-time for Scottish Forestry, co-ordinating the ‘Branching Out - Positive Mental Health through Nature’ programme. She is passionate about working with nature to help people lead happier and healthier lives.

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xii: Contributors Maddy Mould is an illustrator from Lancashire, who has recently escaped Edinburgh for the Scottish Borders. Her work is heavily influenced by her interests in the surrounding natural landscape, folklore & history. She likes to illuminate the magic of everyday things, through her art and some simple kitchen witchery with what will hopefully soon be homegrown produce @maddymould

Joseph Nolan practices Herbal Medicine in Edinburgh, at the UK’s oldest herbal clinic, and specialises in men’s health and paediatrics. He is a member of the Association of Foragers, and teaches classes and workshops related to herbal medicine making, wild plants, foraging, and natural health. You can find him on Facebook and Instagram @herbalmedicineman and on his website www.herbalmedicineman.com

Kyra Pollitt is a graduate of the Diploma in Herbology at the RBGE. When not editing Herbology News, she works as a translator, interpreter, writer and artist. She lives on the Isle of Harris, where she is busily planning and growing a garden. www.actsoftranslation.com

Edie Turner (she/ them) is a final year student of Political Philosophy and Ethics at Churchill College, Cambridge. She is also a seasoned activist, as well as a co-ordinator and long-term volunteer for Refugee Community Kitchen— a charity serving nourishing food to displaced people in the UK and France.

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. back to contents

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xii: Looking Forward

11//20: The Energy Issue       

Your usual columnists Plus Artist of the Month: Marianne Hazlewood Plus a new column on Flower Remedies from Anne Dalziel BFRP Plus a new column from Milly Watson Brown of Moontime Chocolates Plus Sinéad Fortune talks sovereign seeds And Our Man in the Field interviews Monica Wilde Plus your Book Reviews

And more….

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