Let a herbalist loose in a field of weeds…
Now we are old we have a motor home. This is an upgrade from camping, which we can’t manage anymore. It carries the same atmosphere as camping but without the dripping tent, lumpy mattress, and the shivering of a cold dawn trudging across wet grass to go to the toilet.
We went to Cornwall and stayed five days in a field on a farm which was diversifying into the camping market. We had a fantastic view across rolling hills and tree lined valleys, but I noticed a stile inserted in a hedge which said ‘NATURE TRAIL’. The nature trail started on a track through a bumpy, weedy, overgrown large field where I stumbled about grumpily because I was hot and kept tripping over.
And then I saw the Californian Poppy [Eschscholtzia californica], swathes of bright orange flowers soaking up the sun. I was tempted to pick some but my husband held me back, encouraging me to leave them for others to enjoy.
I looked round the empty field which was secluded from view from the campsite, the farmhouse and the whole of Falmouth, but I shrugged and moved on.
Then I saw the Fumitory [Fumaria officinalis] and I just picked a bit of this pretty little flower, but my husband gave me a guilty conscience, so I left it, and we made our way to the top of the field where the trail disappeared through trees.
Then I saw the Cleavers [Galium aperine] and dear reader, I picked a lot. Whereas the Californian Poppy and the Fumitory could be said to be flowers [in the gardening sense of the word] and my husband restricted me from picking them, Cleavers, let’s be honest, looks like a weed, grows like a weed and should be treated like a weed.
Walking through the trail with a bag full of Cleavers I tried to concentrate on the view, but as we walked, I couldn’t help noticing the stinging nettles drooping heavily with seeds, the sheep’s sorrel, the Ribwort, and the Sweet Woodruff. My fingers were itching to snip, so we managed to get a bagful of nettle seed before we strolled back to our motorhome.
I know how quickly herbs spoil when kept stuffed in plastic bags, so I tied string between the posts of the awning poles and hung out my Cleavers, then arranged the nettle stalks with seed carefully in a ridged container.
That evening as the owner of the farm strolled across to us, [where my line full of her Cleavers was in view], I suddenly remembered that I hadn’t asked for the landowners permission to pick her weeds, as we are advised to do when wildcrafting. After gushing, embarrassed explanations of my pilfering her land’s bounty, she dismissed my concerns with a wave of her hand and said;
“Whatever you find out there, take as much as you like. I have no need of any of it and I would rather it was used…”
The next day I was like a kid in a sweet shop who had been told to help myself. Yes, I did pick a lot of Eschscholtzia to make into a fantastic mild sedative and sleep aid, but I left some for the next herbalist to find, the same with the Fumaria [a brilliant liver and gall bladder tonic]. I wasn’t so restricted with the nettle seed, Cleavers and Ribwort, because there was just so much of them I could have picked all day and not made a dent in the swathes of medicinal herbs within those fields.
The day after we got home the Cleavers, Ribwort and Fumaria have been made into fresh tinctures. The nettle seed is drying, the Eschscholtzia is standing in water, waiting for me…
Being a herbalist is fun, and rewarding, but you don’t have to train to get a professional qualification to enjoy picking and using herbs.
I run a membership called HerbWorks where I put up a video every week of what I have been doing, add instructional videos of how to make stuff, and once a week have a live zoom Q&A for members.
Membership is £9.99/month and the next Q&A is Tuesday 9th July at 10.00 UK time. Recordings of the sessions will be uploaded to my site, so you can catch it if you miss one.
Click the button to join.
