This is what my herb garden looked like in summer, and by now all these herbs have been gathered in and made into medicines. I either dried them to use in teas or made them into tinctures. There is a certain amount of satisfaction in growing medicines in one’s own garden and using them in one’s own practice. It satisfies the sufficiency drive in one.
But now…
I am sitting at my desk looking out of the window at my herb garden; the lovely place that was full of flowers and bees and aromatic scents for a lot of the year. The place where I sat and taught, or picked leaves or did a bit of light weeding around the Southernwood. I know I should get out there and tidy it up. All that Valerian root needs harvesting [the plants with the yellowing leaves by the green shed in the first desolate picture]. I use the excuse that it has been raining solidly and I have been so busy – but in truth, it looks so depressing I can’t motivate myself. It is so much easier just looking out of my window while I write this and imagining what I am going to do ‘next week when the days aren’t so wet.’
