The Change Issue

1

i: Editorial

All change Kyra Pollitt

This month we embrace change.

As we transition from spring to summer, we welcome the lovely Red Clover (Trifolium pratense) as our Herb of the Month. Marianne Hughes investigates its medicinal properties, whilst Hazel Brady rises to the challenge of its form. The ability of pigment to form from sunlight and chemical change is the magic process behind the gorgeous cyanotypes gracing these pages (Artist of the Month: Angela Macmillan).

Meanwhile, Claire Gormley is interested in another chemical change— the oxidation that brings us fine wine (The Chemistry Column). And because we all know the best are matured, Ann King offers recipes for that grandest of changes, the menopause (Notes from the Brew Room). Herbs to support the workings of the womb are explored in Anthroposophical Views, while Mandy Haggith’s poetry constructs a bloody and barren palace of the menses (Red Squirrel Press Presents…).

Foraging through Folklore looks on the brighter side, presenting a cornucopia of luck unlocked by the Clover, and Amanda Edmiston opens an old and treasured book to bring us a glimpse of her own fourleafed charm (Botanica Fabula).

Rose Morley talks us through the soothing changes Red Clover flower essence can invoke (Flower Power), while Patrick Dunne rails at the lack of rapid change in the face of the new IPCC Report (The Climate Column).

Our Assistant Editor in the Field, Ella Leith, brings us more hopeful news of a project restoring sustainable land practices in the Scottish Highlands. On the other side of the world, Suhee Kang and Patrick M. Lydon (In Focus) delight in the pocket-sized changes that can make all the difference to both environment and soul. Callum Halstead’s Sage Advice this month will help you transform your own little pocket of earth into a verdant, year-round paradise.

Finally, Kyra Pollitt (Book Club) previews Mo Wilde’s forthcoming memoir of a year spent existing solely on a wild food diet because, as another fêted rebel once observed: the times, they are a-changin’...

Honorary Executive Editorial team Proofing Finance Distribution

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

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

2

3

i: Contents

i Editorial Frontispiece Contents

Kyra Pollitt Maddy Mould

2 3 4

ii Artist of the Month

Angela Macmillan

8

iii Herb of the Month

Marianne Hughes, Hazel Brady

11

iv Anthroposophical Views

Dora Wagner

15

v Notes from the Brew Room The Chemistry Column Flower Power

Ann King Claire Gormley Rose Morley

20 22 24

vi Our Assistant Editor in the Field….

Ella Leith visits The Shieling Project

26

vii In Focus: The Branch Pocket Garden Sage Advice

Patrick M. Lydon and Suhee Kang Callum Halstead

33 38

viii The Climate Column

Patrick Dunne

43

ix Foraging through Folklore Botanica Fabula Red Squirrel Press Presents…

Ella Leith Amanda Edmiston Mandy Haggith

46 49 51

x Book Club Kyra Pollitt previews The Wilderness Cure: Ancient Wisdom in a Modern World by Mo Wilde (Simon & Schuster: London, 2022) xi Contributors Looking Forward

4

53

56 60

Herbology News is against war

We promote PEACE, LOVE and HERBS 5

Support Herbology News Our beautiful magazine is wholly run by volunteers and has no institutional support or regular income. We need to cover software licenses, our subscription to a publishing platform, the costs of printing (not cheap!), and delivering to our stockists each month.

It’s our ambition that Herbology News will one day be able to pay for itself, and we’ll be able to offer a print subscription for those who want it. Until then, we are relying on your support from each issue to the next. So…

Please consider supporting Herbology News by becoming a patron www.patreon.com/herbologynews

For as little as £3 a month, you can help keep Herbology News in production.

We’re offering an exciting range of rewards to show our gratitude.

Prefer to make a one-off donation? Visit: www.justgiving.com/crowdfunding/herbologynews

The first ten people to donate £10 or over will also receive a rare back copy of Herbology News.

Fancy splashing out and sponsoring a whole issue of Herbology News?

For £150, you can:

6

• Choose which issue to call your own • Choose the cover image from the Artist of the Month • Receive a full-page illustrated thank-you in the issue • Join the Editorial Team for a behind-the-scenes preview • Receive three printed copies of the issue Contact us: herbologynews@gmail.com

Angela Macmillan Geranium 1

7

ii: Artist of the Month

Angela Macmillan

www.weenorrag.co.uk Our featured artist harnesses sunlight and change as pigment. An Inverness-based educator and artist, Angela Macmillan has been trading under the name Wee Norrag since 2012, and her enchanting and dainty cyanotype prints capture in relief the intricacies of her native Highland wildflowers and grasses, lending an ethereal magic to our midsummer pages.

Angela writes: Nature is an endless source of inspiration to me. From intricate Ferns to the carpet of fallen blossom leaves, from fluffy Bog Cotton to the tiny, delicate flowers on Cow Parsley, beauty is all around.

Whilst I have always been happiest in nature— in the woods or beside the sea —lockdown reinforced just how vital it was to me. Walks became slower and more mindful. I began homing in on the patterns in nature, and felt drawn to bring these patterns into my home. I experimented with various media before discovering the cyanotype process, and I have become captivated by it.

Cyanotype is an old photographic technique using light exposure and a simple chemical process to create detailed blueprints. There is a magic about it. I get lost in it, and the hours disappear.

Whilst cyanotype is a relatively new technique to me, I have used Wee Norrag as my creative outlet since the birth of my son, ten years ago. I would work with textiles— primarily Harris Tweed, much of which was woven by my father-in-law on the Isle of Lewis —to create gifts and homewares whilst my son had his afternoon nap. I named my business in honour of this, as ‘norrag’ is the Gaelic word for a wee snooze.

I have worked in Gaelic-medium primary education for almost twenty years, and sometimes a particular flower or scene brings to mind a Gaelic proverb or song lyric. I like to include that in my artwork.

Wee Norrag has ebbed and flowed over the years as our family has grown, and as work commitments have changed, but it has remained an important constant to me. My recent work with cyanotype aims to bring the outside in, bringing the patterns from nature into peoples’ homes, to remind us of the often overlooked beauty that surrounds us.

Many of Angela’s prints and textiles are available to purchase from her shop: weenorrag.etsy.com You can find and follow Angela on Instagram: @weenorrag

8

ii: Artist of the Month

Cover image Machair Cyanotype, A4 £24 Images Geranium 1 Cyanotype, A5 £14 Grasses Cyanotype, A4 £24 An t-ionnsachadh òg Cyanotype, A4 £24 Blossom Cyanotype, A5 £14 Meadow Flowers Cyanotype, A4 £24 Geranium 2 Cyanotype, A5 £14 Canach Cyanotype, A5 £14 Gàrradh Ghranaidh Cyanotype, A4 £24 Curly Fern Cyanotype, A4 and A5 £24 and £14 The Artist in her Studio

9

Angela Macmillan Grasses

10

iii: Herb of the Month

Red Clover (Trifolium pratense) Marianne Hughes, with illustration by Hazel Brady This triple-leafed herb was sacred to a variety of ancient cultures. Both the Greeks and the Romans associated it with the triad goddesses. Celtic priests were reminded of their three-lobed symbol of the sun. The Druids believed the blossoms could ward off nasty spells and evil spirits. In Ireland, St Patrick is believed to have used the threeleafed Clover to illustrate the idea of the Christian trinity.

By the Middle Ages, legumes such as Peas (Pisum sativum), Beans (Phaseolus spp.), and Vetches (Vicia spp.) were commonly grown as fodder and food crops. From the midseventeenth century, farmers added deeprooted White Clover (Trifolium repens) and Red Clover (T. pratense) for these purposes (Bown, 2008). Although the Latin ‘pratense’ suggests a plant found in meadows, Clovers are still used today as a green manure crop, to enrich and protect soil. Through a symbiotic relationship with rhizobia bacteria, Red Clover fixes nitrogen in nodules in its roots. This nitrogen becomes available to other plants, and so enhances the nutrient value of meadows. The resulting high content of trace minerals in the plant’s roots is also beneficial in medicinal preparations.

promote antioxidant and anti-cancer effects.

Additionally, they were found to have beneficial effects on cardiovascular function and to improve symptoms of menopause. Red Clover contains isoflavones— a type of phytoestrogen compound with a chemical makeup similar to the oestrogen hormone.

So, the addition of Red Clover may help to balance hormone levels during the menopause. These findings (Mohsen et al, 2021) echo a recent meta-analysis of research into the lipid profile of perimenopausal and post-menopausal women, conducted by Kanadys et al (2020). They were specifically interested in the impact Red Clover extract could have on cholesterol levels, and found that Red Clover did reduce total concentrations of cholesterol. This, in turn, would impact positively on cardiovascular health.

In the 1930s, Red Clover had a reputation for curing cancer, and by the 1990s it had become a popular ingredient for relieving menopausal symptoms, such as hot flushes.

While its ability to cure cancer may be debateable, there is evidence that Red Clover can promote the development of a membrane around the tumour, containing its growth (Wood, 2008). This can be particularly helpful where there is to be surgery, for example for breast cancer (Wood, 2008). In an overview of new findings (Mohsen et al, 2021), compositions of Red Clover were found to 11

iii: Herb of the Month Red Clover is often referred to as an ‘alterative’ herb. Alterative herbs restore vitality by helping to support the body's own natural processes. Red Clover works gently to assist the body to rid itself of toxins. For example, its diuretic action increases the flow of urine, and its expectorant action moves mucus from the lungs. The work of Red Clover is slow and steady, so for the most effective results it is usually taken over a long period of time (Bruton-Seal and Seal, 2008).

And what of the beauty of Clover? A Clover lawn heralds the summer, is loved by bees, and by small children who delight in gently pulling apart the flower and discovering the joy of sucking at the sweet nectar. As adults, we can enjoy Clover flowers and leaves in salads and, of course, that occasional cup of Clover wine.

References Bown, D. (2008) Encyclopaedia of Herbs.

Royal Horticultural Society, Dorling Kindersley: London Bruton-Seal, J. and Seal, M. (2008) Hedgerow Medicine: Harvest and Make Your Own Herbal Remedies. Merlin Unwin: Shropshire Kanadys, W. (2020) ‘Effects of Red Clover (Trifolium pratense) isoflavones on the lipid profile of perimenopausal and postmenopausal women-A systematic review and meta-analysis’, in Journal of Traditional Chinese Medicine, (132): 7-16 Mohsen, A. (2021) ‘Pharmacological and therapeutic properties of the Red Clover (Trifolium pratense L.): an overview of the new findings’, in Journal of Traditional Chinese Medicine, 41(4): 642-649 Wood, M. (2008) The Earthwise Herbal: A Complete Guide to Old World Medicinal Plants. North Atlantic Books: California

12

.

Angela Macmillan An t-ionnsachadh òg

13

iv: Anthroposophical Views

A temporary shelter Dora Wagner

Everything is seed.

(Novalis, 1798)

The origin of life is an enigma that has preoccupied us since ancient times. The womb— the nurturing nest in which our own lives begin —is a powerful metaphor for new life. Yet, for a long time, the female body and its functions were tainted with myths and taboos. According to theories of ancient Egyptian medicine, the womb was permeated by a system of blood vessels that connected it to the entire body. It was believed not only that ‘excess’ menstrual blood accumulated in the body and caused abscesses, but also that the uterus was free to change its position, travelling throughout the female body. This view was also held by Hippocrates, Paracelsus, Galenos, and even Leonardo da Vinci. In the Corpus Hippocraticum, we read that ‘the uterus is to blame for all diseases [in women]’ (Buse, 2003). Plato wrote in his treatise, Timaeus: The uterus is an animal that ardently desires children. If the same remains barren for a long time after puberty, it becomes enraged, pervades the whole body, obstructs the airways, inhibits breathing and...produces all kinds of diseases (in Kollesch, 1979).

The womb was described in more detail by Galenos, although still not anatomically correctly. He saw it as divided into two parts— warmer on the right than on the left —which thus provided a humoral-pathological explanation for the development of male

14

offspring in the right uterine chamber (Nickel, 1971). Galenos also believed that the absence of menstruation, or suppressed vaginal secretions, led to hysteria (Mentzos, 2003)— this is an umbrella term for various mental disorders which today we might know as depression, anxiety, schizophrenia, or psychosis. The healer and mystic Hildegard von Bingen was one of the first scholars to separate gynaecology from superstition and to declare ‘female disorders’ a medical specialty for which curative treatments existed.

In the eighteenth century, a new theory on the cause of female ailments emerged, and with it a new description: ‘vapeurs’, or vapours.

Meyer’s Konversationslexikon (1909) explains this was ‘formerly the name of a fashionable disease of ladies, complaints supposedly caused by flatulence rising to the brain and hysterical moods based thereon’. These ideas are reproduced in the Oeconomische Encyclopädie (Krünitz,1850): Vapeurs appear in women at the onset or absence of the menstrual period, but also in addition when sitting a lot, eating flatulent food, and when the digestive powers of the stomach are not appropriate...they proceed from the nerve plexuses of the abdomen.

iv: Anthroposophical Views By the twentieth century, this theory had been abandoned, but medicine continued to hold to the idea that nerves directly connected the female genitals to other organs: The female reproductive system is extraordinarily rich in nerves and at the same time has very extensive...relations with the organs of the intestinal canal, the heart and the brain, in so far as it is the seat of the psyche. Accordingly, pathological conditions of the genitals are transferred to these organs by way of nervous reflex and are documented here as various kinds of disorders and functional disturbances. In the broadest sense, therefore, a good part of the nervous and emotional disorders known as hysteria also belong to the field of women's diseases (Meyer, 1909).

Treatments for female hysteria ranged from the bizarre to the drastic. Until the 1930s, immediate marriage and pregnancy were commonly recommended. In gynaecology, surgical interventions such as correction of the position of the uterus, or full hysterectomy, were used as therapy. Indeed, the ovaries— seen as the trigger of hysteria —were often surgically removed without further examination (Buse, 2003).

following the hormonal stimulus to ovulation, the ovum that is growing faster than all the others bursts out of the ovary into the abdominal cavity, heading for the fallopian tube. There, should the fates align, it meets thousands of sperm, one of which may break through the egg’s membrane to fuse with it.

The fertilised ovum begins to divide, becomes an embryo, and— after another fourteen days and twenty centimetres of travel —finally reaches its destination. Here, in the uterus, it may nestle and grow for ten lunar months.

In today’s understanding (Aumüller, 2010), the uterus is known to be a pear-shaped, hollow organ made up of three layers: an outer, protective layer; a middle, muscular layer called the myometrium; and an inner layer, the lining or endometrium. The whole organ is about seven centimetres long and five centimetres wide, two to three centimetres thick, and weighs 30-120 grams. It has three main sections, the lowest of which is the cervix, which surrounds the cervical canal and is connected by a very narrow transition zone— the uterine isthmus —to the body of the uterus, the corpus uteri. On either side of the womb, and connected to it by the fallopian tubes, are the ovaries. These contain hundreds of thousands of oocytes waiting for a chance to embark on the long and risky journey into the uterus. Each lunar month,

Between menarche and menopause, the uterus prepares for the creation of new life over the course of each lunar month.

Following bleeding, between the fifth and fifteenth day of the cycle, the blood supply increases, causing the mucous membrane on the inner wall to grow. In the secretion phase, between the sixteenth and twenty-eighth days, the lining is completely rebuilt and enriched with nutrients. If no ovum implants, this part of the mucous membrane dies off, and is shed between the first and fourth day of the following cycle. This bleeding ensures that the remnants of the mucous membrane are flushed out of the body.

This whole cyclical process is controlled by hormones from the ovaries, and regulated by messenger substances produced in the brain and the hypophysis. The concentration of 15

iv: Anthroposophical Views oestrogens— the most important of the female sex hormones —changes considerably in the course of the cycle. Oestrogens promote the growth of the vagina, uterus, ovaries, and fallopian tubes, as well as the formation of secondary female sexual characteristics, such as breasts. They support the maturation of ova, help to supply the uterine lining with blood, signal the maturity of the eggs to the pituitary gland (and thus indirectly trigger ovulation), open the cervix, and make the cervical secretion permeable to sperm. In addition, oestrogens also act on the bones, have a stimulating effect on our immune systems, and are essential to the storage of memory and sounds, including speech. Thus, after menopause, a reduced oestrogen level in the blood may lead to loss of bone density, and to a deterioration in hearing.

In anthroposophical medicine, the Breeding Plant (Kalanchoe pinnata) is used to treat symptoms relating to the female fertility cycle.

The first tropical specimen was introduced into Europe in 1800, arriving at the Royal Botanic Gardens, Kew, from Calcutta. At this time, it was referred to as Bryophyllum calycinum. In 1817, the Botanical Garden in Weimar received an offshoot, which was soon admired by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe. He called it Wunder-Blatt (Miracle-leaf), Lebenszweig (Branch of Life), and Brutblatt (Breeding Leaf). Its most common name in Germany is now Goethepflanze (Goethe’s Plant).

Goethe-plants are remarkable for their unusual reproductive behaviour. New, complete plants of the next generation form directly from the leaves, without the need for flowering, pollination, seed formation, or a dormant period in between (although it is also possible for it to reproduce this way). New plants emerge from the mother plant— sometimes at the edge of the leaf, or where it touches the ground, sometimes from the wound of a torn leaf, or like pearls from all corners of the margin. Occasionally, even a grandchild generation appears.

16

The poet was so fascinated by the incredible ability of this thick-leaved plant to reproduce itself that he began to experiment with it, placing the germinating leaves on moist soil, and being delighted each time new plant life sprouted. In the spring of 1826, he began an essay on Bryophyllum calycinum, and, in autumn of the same year, a poem: As from a leaf innumerable Fresh life-sprigs sprout, May you, blessed in love, Enjoy a thousandfold delight (Goethe, 1826).

For Goethe, the Breeding Plant was evidence that the leaf is the central organ of the plant, from which all other parts, including the flowers, emerge through metamorphosis. He sent cuttings far and wide, to all his beloved.

It seems reasonable to imagine that my own plants may even originate from that initial Goethe-plant.

It is not surprising that such a vital and peculiar plant can also be a powerful remedy.

Kalanchoe pinnata has been used in the areas of its origin for a long time, apparently with considerable success (Kamboj et al, 2009). Its main habitat is Madagascar, but the plant is also widespread throughout tropical Africa, Asia, India, China, Australia, Hawaii, and tropical America. The leaves are used for the treatment of jaundice, inflammations,

iv: Anthroposophical Views infections, and hypertension, as well as problems in the bladder-kidney area. There are indications that extracts from the leaves may act as analgesic, sedative, central nervous system depressant, muscle relaxant, gastroprotective, anti-inflammatory, antiallergic, anti-anaphylactic, anti-cancer, antiulcer, immunomodulatory, and wound healing (Taylor, 2005; Joseph et al, 2011). Extracts from the whole plant have been shown to have hypoglycaemic properties, which could be helpful in the treatment of diabetes (García-Pérez et al, 2020).

In Europe, the use of remedies derived from Kalanchoe pinnata is almost exclusively limited to anthroposophical medicine. Rudolf Steiner’s concept of supporting the selfhealing powers of human beings hypothesises a connection between the pathophysiological processes of the human, and the physiological processes in the plant. Thus, K. pinnata, introduced by Steiner in 1921, is thought to have many valuable properties in the field of gynaecology. Anthroposophical physicians refer frequently to the German Commission C, which provides expertise in the field of alternative therapies. It states that K. pinnata preparations can be used to prevent premature labour; as a relief during childbirth; and to avoid miscarriages (Commission C, 1992). The Commission even supports implantation of K. pinnata to promote fertility, as intake results in the prolongation of the last half of the cycle, in a general increase in the basal body temperature, in calming and relaxing, and in support of ovulation and implantation of the egg. Herbal preparations of K. pinnata can also be helpful in the treatment of premenstrual syndrome and menopausal symptoms, as well as certain types of dysfunction and recurrent infections related to metabolism. K. pinnata can be used in emergency situations for alleviating anxiety, and associated sleep disorders; numerous preparations combine K. pinnata with other herbs to alleviate mood disorders, restlessness, and exhaustion. Although K. pinnata preparations are available over the counter, or online without prescription, and side effects are rare, intake should be discussed in detail with a doctor.

For me, the mere sight of this undemanding houseplant, with its vitality and joie de vivre, has the power to bring happiness. It is, as Goethe wrote, a ‘thousandfold delight’.

Images Pictures and collages made by Dora Wagner from Creative Commons References Aumüller, G. (2010) Anatomie. Georg Thieme: Stuttgart 17

iv: Anthroposophical Views Buse, G. (2003) Als hätte ich ein Schatzkästlein verloren: Hysterektomie aus der Perspektive einer feministischtheologischen Medizinethik. Lit Verl: Berlin Commission C (1992) Monographien, Kommission C, Bundesanzeiger 121:S. 272– 277 García-Pérez, P. et al (2020) From Ethnomedicine to Plant Biotechnology and Machine Learning: The Valorization of the Medicinal Plant Bryophyllum sp.

Pharmaceuticals: Zürich Goethe, J.W. von (1826) Goethe's sämtliche Werke. Band 6, S.162. Trans. Dora Wagner.

J. G. Cotta: Stuttgart Joseph, B., Sridhar, S. Sankarganesh, J. and Edwin, B.T. (2011) ‘Rare Medicinal Plant— Kalanchoe Pinnata’, in Research Journal of Microbiology, 6: 322-327 Kamboj, A. et al (2009) ‘Bryophyllum pinnatum (Lam.) Kurz.: Phytochemical and pharmacological profile: a review’, in Pharmacognosy Reviews, 3(6) Krünitz, J.G. (1850) Oeconomische Encyclopädie. Paulli: Berlin Kollesch, J. (1979) Antike Heilkunst.

Ausgewählte Texte aus den medizinischen Schriften der Griechen und Römer. Reclam: Leipzig Meyer, H. J. (1909) Konversations-Lexikon.

Bibliographisches Institut: Leipzig Nickel, D. (1971) Galen: Über die Anatomie der Gebärmutter. Akademie-Verlag: Berlin Novalis ([1798] 1946) Gesammelte Werke; Fragmente II. Ed. Carl Selig. Buhl: Zürich Mentzos, S. (2004) Hysterie: Zur Psychodynamik unbewusster Inszenierungen.

Vandenhoeck und Ruprecht: Göttingen Taylor, L. (2005) The Healing Power of Rainforest Herbs. Square One Publishers, Inc.: Garden City Park, NY

18

Angela Macmillan Blossom

19

v: Notes from the Brew Room

For a change Ann King

This month’s formulations address menopausal symptoms, and give a resounding boost to those not quite ready to enjoy the changes that are happening, physically and mentally, at this particular life phase. Taking the opportunity to harvest the now abundant Red Clover (Trifolium pratense), Heartsease (Viola tricolor), and Nettle tops (Urtica dioica) will reap dividends on many levels— and, if we dry the harvest quickly and naturally, we maximise the

20

nutritional value of this mineral-rich power trio. The alterative action of Red Clover will help our brew reach the parts where it is most needed, while the delicate Heartsease will use its gentle touch to soften any spiky mood swings. Personal experience allows me to add painful joints and itchy skin to the host of menopausal symptoms, and so what better than a luxurious whipped pot of decadence to soothe and restore?

iv: Notes from the Brew Room Red Clover Infusion or Club Soda Take one heaped teaspoon of each of the following: Dried Heartsease flowers Dried young Nettle leaves Dried Red Clover flowers If possible, use a glass teapot or jug— the brew’s beautiful appearance will add to the experience. Simply add freshly boiled water to the herbs, and leave to infuse for ten minutes before drinking. This combination also works well as a decoction; brewed for around twenty minutes, chilled, and then topped up with soda water.

Whip the Change This pot of delight requires an oil infused with St. John’s Wort (Hypericum perforatum), which will take some time to produce. But such a beautifully soft skin massage has to be worth the time investment.

To pre-prepare the oil, crush 25g of fresh St. John’s Wort flowers, and place in a clear bottle with 500g of Olive oil (Olea europaea).

Leave to infuse in an uncorked bottle for three to five days, then cork and stand in the sun for five to six weeks, until the oil turns a fullbodied red.

Ingredients for the Whip: 5ml St. John’s Wort oil, for calming the nerves 5ml Evening Primrose oil (Oenothera biennis), for balance 10ml Sweet Almond oil (Prunus amygdalus dulcis), a beneficial carrier oil for skin preparations which facilitates the absorption of the herbs, containing fatty acids which help the skin to retain moisture 10g Cocoa butter (Theobroma cacao), for intense moisture 10g beeswax (grated), to provide a thin layer of protection against the external elements, and to help the active ingredients penetrate the skin 5g emulsifying wax 45ml dried Red Clover flower infusion

Add the Sweet Almond oil, St John’s Wort oil, Evening Primrose oil, Cocoa butter and beeswax to a bowl, and gently heat in a saucepan of water until dissolved and warm to touch. If possible, gently heat the Red Clover infusion and the emulsifying wax at the same time, so that the two liquids are similar temperatures for the next step.

Slowly drizzle the Red Clover water-based infusion into the oil-based mix, stirring continuously. Whip with a stick blender until the cream thickens and becomes opaque.

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

Disclaimer No recipes are intended to replace medical advice and the reader should seek the guidance of their doctor for all health matters.

The profiles and recipes are intended for information purposes only and have not been tested or evaluated. Ann King is not making any claims regarding their efficacy and the reader is responsible for ensuring that any replications or adaptations of the recipes that they produce are safe to use and comply with cosmetic regulations where applicable.

21

v: The Chemistry Column

Changes in the barrel Claire Gormley Imagine a chemical reaction. What do you see? Is it fast or slow? What is changing, and how can you tell? Many of you are probably visualising two different liquids being mixed in a beaker— perhaps some bubbles form, a colour appears, a solid collects at the bottom, or maybe the beaker explodes, releasing a burst of heat. All of these are valid depictions of a chemical reaction, and they are all likely to have occurred in a chemistry lab. We often forget, though, that chemistry is happening all around us every day— in the baking of a cake, the lighting of a match, or the rusting of metal.

The flavour and feel of wine are determined by a complex mixture of hundreds of different molecules constantly in flux, as well as by outside variables such as the temperature, our mood, or the food we have just consumed (Waterhouse, Sacks and Jeffery, 2016). But one critical reaction for the development of a wine’s unique flavour is oxidation. This is a chemical reaction that takes place all around us, as virtually everything is exposed to oxygen. Put simply, during an oxidation reaction a substance reacts with oxygen and loses an electron.

When a chemical reaction occurs, the atoms involved in the reaction rearrange to produce an entirely new chemical with different properties. This rearrangement is key, as it’s what separates a chemical change from a physical change. In a physical change, the chemical doesn’t make or break any bonds; it simply transitions between a solid, liquid or gas. The most famous example of this, of course, is ice, water, and steam. All have the chemical formula H2O, but each appears physically different. Another key difference to note is that a chemical change is often irreversible— a factor which winemakers, in particular, need to consider when they begin the process of turning grapes into wine.

In winemaking, the process is much more complex. Most chemists agree on the following mechanism of wine oxidation: First oxygen (O2) reacts with a transition metal catalyst, such as iron. This oxidation ultimately forms hydrogen peroxide (H2O2) and quinones, which are molecules that help to create unique flavours by reacting with wine nucleophiles, like bisulfite, thiols and flavan-3ols. One of two things happens next. Either H2O2 reacts with bisulfite to end the oxidation reactions or, if there isn’t enough bisulfite, H2O2 will react with ionised-iron to produce aldehydes and other oxidised compounds.

These compounds continue to react with the wine nucleophiles, generating more of the

22

v: The Chemistry Column distinguished grassy, nutty or apple-y ‘oxidised flavours.’ Finally, once the nucleophiles are exhausted, the aldehydes and oxidised species accumulate, and the wine is said to be oxidised (Waterhouse, Sacks and Jeffery, 2016).

This process starts as soon as the grape is removed from the vine. Winemakers will try to control the exposure of the grapes to oxygen, and thus the development of oxidised flavours. Once oxidised there’s no going back, so it’s important for winemakers to get the process right if they want to produce their signature flavour year after year. They may harvest at hotter or cooler times of the day.

They may ferment the wine in a steel vat instead of a wooden barrel to allow for greater oxygen exchange. They may purposefully add oxygen, using methods like open-tank fermentation, pumping over, racking or bâttonage (Teclemariam, 2019). Even sealing the bottle with a screwcap instead of a cork can make a difference to how the flavours will develop— a cork will let through trace amounts of oxygen, allowing the wine to age after being bottled (Masterclass staff, 2021).

So, next time you raise a glass, consider the chemical reactions that have brought that taste to your lips. Indeed, the chemical reactions that are still going on all around you…

References Teclemariam, T. (2019) What is Oxidation Doing to My Wine? Wine Enthusiast.

[Accessed on: 02 May 2022]. www.winemag.com/2019/04/09/wineoxidation/ Masterclass Staff (2021) Wine 101: What Are the Differences Between Corks and Screwtops? Masterclass. [Accessed on: 02 May 2022] www.masterclass.com/articles/wine101-what-are-the-differences-between-corksand-screw-tops#what-are-wine-screw-topsand-how-do-they-work Waterhouse, A. L., Sacks, G. L. and Jeffery, D. W. (2016) ‘Wine Oxidation’, in Waterhouse, Sacks and Jeffery’s Understanding Wine Chemistry. Chichester: John Wiley & Sons: 278 23

v: Flower Power

Red Clover calms the storm Rose Morley Does your mind feel overactive? When we are stressed and our thoughts are in overdrive, it can have a huge impact on our system, contributing to IBS, gastric upset, nausea, and sleeplessness. If you need a little more grounding and focus to combat these symptoms, then Red Clover (Trifolium pratense) is an excellent healer, soothing the heart, and taming those raging internal fires.

When many of us are still struggling with the emotional fallout of the pandemic lockdowns, flower essences can be of great benefit, used either alone or in combination to relieve fears and anxieties. Empaths, in particular, can benefit from using Red Clover flower essence, as its balancing properties can help them avoid taking on everyone else’s burdens and stresses. Similarly, those who hide emotions deep within ourselves will find Red Clover can help to slowly bring emotions back to the surface, in order to deal with them at a pace that is comfortable. So, when you start to feel growing panic and fear, turn to Red Clover to bring your feelings back under control, perhaps combining it with one of the Element Essences (Findhorn) for extra support.

Another source of upheaval is the menopause. Anxieties around whether and when the next period will come, and what the physical and emotional impact will be, can cause stress and overwhelm. Red Clover flower essence is a simple and effective aid to get you through that emotional struggle. In fact, Red Clover is effective for a wide array of pains associated with the womb. As a herbal tea, it can help soothe menstrual issues, including cramps and PMS symptoms.

Massaging the flower essence directly onto the skin in the painful area can help. Kramer (1996) writes about applying flower essences topically according to body maps, and I’ve found this approach really effective in helping not only with physical symptoms, but emotional ones as well. For those who know the overwhelming surge of pain when a 24

period is due, Red Clover tincture can help to relieve cramps, tenderness, and even alleviate mood.

Finally, if you’re pregnant or trying to become pregnant, combine the Red Clover flower essence with She Oak (Australian Bush Flower). Both these essences can be good for anxiety pre-pregnancy, during pregnancy, and in labour. Both essences work to balance the emotions, and keep stresses to a minimum.

The small, lovely, and powerful Clover flower soothes and re-balances. If I had my way, its essence would be added to the mains water supply; as it is, a bottle will fit snuggly into your pocket for whenever you need it.

References Australian Bush Flower Essences: ausflowers.com.au Findhorn Flower Essences: findhornessences.com Kramer, D. (1996) New Bach Flower Body Maps: Treatment by Topical Application.

Healing Arts Press: Fairfield, CT

Angela Macmillan Meadow Flowers

25

vi: Our Assistant Editor in the Field

Ella Leith meets Sam Harrison Ella Leith

Welly-deep in muck, Sam Harrison is pointing out various wildflowers to a rapt audience of adults and children; behind him, the brae stretches up to dissolve into woodland; below, a glittering river weaves through the wide glen floor. This is Glen Strathfarrar, just outside of Beauly, near Inverness. It’s the kind of spot where you don’t have phone signal, let alone data, and you really don’t miss it. Here, Sam and his family live and run The Shieling Project— a place-based learning centre exploring the natural and cultural heritage of shieling life and traditional outdoor living. The shieling (an àirigh, in Gaelic) is a Scottish example of transhumance— a practice common to pastoral societies across the world —in which livestock are moved up into the hills, or inland from the coast, to graze on the summer grasses.

But today, I’m in Malta and speaking to Sam involves a complicated technological wrangling of handsfree Skype calls across two thousand miles. As we speak, Sam is driving south from Helmsdale, Sutherland, and the roar of the A9 is the backing track to our chat. And yet Sam is still in his element.

He’s on his way back from setting up a new Shieling Project site, and his enthusiasm is just as compelling and contagious, despite the screech of passing lorries.

The Shieling Project, Sam tells me, draws on a particular tradition of land-use in the Highlands: “a tradition of how people used to live and work with the landscape, in the landscape.” At Beltane, the May Day festival marking the beginning of summer, cattle would be driven up from the main settlement, the ‘wintertown’, to the shieling. There, a portion of the community— typically women, young people, and children —would live alongside the cattle for several weeks in temporary or semi-permanent homes, herding them between the best pastures, and making butter and cheese for the winter. Practised in Scotland for at least two thousand years, this way of life declined from the eighteenth century onwards, when the Highlands were aggressively depopulated in the era known as The Clearances. By the twenty-first century, few people— including Sam —had ever heard of shielings.

26

The project was born of Sam’s longstanding passion for place-based learning. About a decade ago, he was working in Argyll: Just me and my backpack, working with schools, going on day trips exploring the places around where the kids lived, and introducing them to the stories, or the place-names, or the Gaelic history, or the plants. And then whilst I was doing that, I was introduced to the idea of the shieling.

vi: Our Assistant Editor in the Field whilst I was doing that, I was introduced to the idea of the shieling.

For Sam, the discovery was a revelation.

It was like this little jewel of an idea that reflected all the issues that I wanted to get into— about sense of place, about connection to the landscape, about understanding your history, about sustainable lives…It made sense for education, because kids were central to the shieling— that was the time when they would be quite autonomous, often up at the shielings on their own...I just got excited about it.

That much is obvious, but there’s a long road between getting excited about an idea and putting it into practice. “I did a lot of procrastinating,” Sam says blithely. This included a PhD in place-based learning at Moray House School of Education in Edinburgh. “And then once I finished my PhD, I thought, right, I can’t really procrastinate any more, and finally...I just started.”

The first step was finding a suitable site. This was no easy task. Living out of the back of his car, Sam visited eighty-five different estates near Inverness to try to find the perfect spot— and then to persuade the landowner to lease it to him. Eventually the estate in Glen Strathfarrar leased him ten acres. After another year of legal and bureaucratic wrangling to set up the project formally, in 2015 he and his family moved into a derelict cottage, just up the track from the village of Struy. The Shieling Project took root down in the glen floor. The site itself is not a former shieling; it’s where the wintertown would have been. But in the hills above, about an hour’s walk away, is a shieling site— recognisable from the patches of particularly lush growth.

Sometimes you won’t find anything apart from a really big patch of green, and that’s because the people and the cows stayed there at night-time and were trampling up the earth and pooing everywhere, so that kind of fertility is left there in the hills even now— a hundred and fifty years on, you can still see that green imprint. Initially, I knew it was a shieling because I just saw the vegetation change completely in that area; when the bracken died away, I went up and found thirty-odd different structures. They’re everywhere; I think there’s about 6,000 of them recorded in the Highlands, but in my wandering around the hills, I’ve found at least fifteen or twenty unrecorded ones. There’s probably ten times more than that.

27

vi: Our Assistant Editor in the Field Back down in the glen, Sam got to work setting up the outdoor education centre, assisted by his family, a team of volunteers, and visiting school groups: From a site with nothing on it, we worked to slowly build all the infrastructure. The first thing we did was to build some compost toilets, and then worked our way up from there. I think we’ve built about fifteen different structures— some small things, like wood stores; some really big things, like our classroom, which is twelve metres by nine metres squared. We wanted to be fully involved in the whole construction.

Early visitors slept in borrowed Scout tents, but there are now six accommodation bothies, the only structures built by professionals. The site is off-grid too, making use of solar panels and a biomass boiler that runs on wood from the community woodland. But the land itself is nutrient poor, a degraded ecosystem that hadn’t been farmed since the 1820s: We have an 1822 map that shows some of the crops and field boundaries, and we can still see the piles of stones that they cleared, so we kind of know where the fields were. But a lot were completely overgrown. We started off getting our pigs working over some of the fields, and we brought our Shetland cattle on, so they’ve been doing some really positive, beneficial grazing.

We fenced the deer out— just by doing that, we got a lot of natural regeneration. Then, after a couple of years of the pigs working through the land, and us removing the stones that the pigs dug up, we started growing crops.

The crops are mostly traditional grains, Bere Barley (Hordeum vulgare) and Black Oats (Avena strigosa), which are suitable for the rocky soil and Highland climate. But their resilience makes hand-harvesting and processing the crops labour intensive (“Black Oats are very difficult to get out of their husks”), and farming in the depleted soil is still hit and miss: We are getting better at it now— we’re getting our skills together at the same time as working with the land to bring it up to health, but it’s going to take a lot of work. But we produce some really fantastic manure on-site, so we’re trying to do it in a regenerative way.

It is for this reason that using modern grain varieties is a non-starter, as these typically need to be planted with a nugget of oil fertiliser to have a chance; moreover, they’ve been bred to have short stalks, as there’s less need for straw these days: The old varieties have this massive long stalk, which can be used for thatch and weaving things like baskets and chair backs. So, we get more resource from the old varieties.

In its first year, The Shieling Project participated in a trial by The Gaia Foundation and The James Hutton Institute, looking at how deliberately mixing crops like Peas (Pisum sativum) and Oats in the same field allowed them to mutually support each other. “We’ve kept that going,” Sam says, “and we’re looking also at under-sowing Clover (Trifolium spp.), so that once you’ve harvested the crops, the Clover comes up. We’re looking at those kinds of combinations, because monocropping is just not healthy, and it requires a big input of fertiliser to maintain. It’s just not what we want to do.”

28

vi: Our Assistant Editor in the Field

Visitors to The Shieling Project get involved in all aspects of the site’s development and continuing life— building and fixing structures, clearing stones from the fields, sowing and harvesting, foraging for supplies, and, of course, milking and herding the cows. Cattle were central to the lives of Highland communities for centuries, but once they stopped being lucrative for big landowners, they and the communities became expendable. By the late eighteenth century, the high demand for mutton and wool meant sheep had become the most valuable livestock. And caring for an immense flock of sheep needed far fewer humans than tending cattle did. For this reason, among others, huge numbers of Highlanders were evicted— often forcibly. Some were moved to the coast, others to the cities, and yet more abroad. The Clearances caused a great deal of human suffering —commemorated in folk songs and stories still told today —but, Sam tells me, “the land also suffered”.

The way that cows graze is non-specific, and the combination of this and their manure actually increases biodiversity in the hills. It wasn’t just an extractive relationship with the landscape— it was that the cows were suited to our hills, and so the hills gave back. It was a really well-balanced system. But sheep graze selectively. If you have too many of them on a piece of ground, they’ll eat the best things first, and then the second best things, and then the third best things, and all that biodiversity is destroyed.

The sheep boom didn’t last, and soon many estates began to turn to deer as a source of income, catering to the sporting interests of wealthy industrialists. The problem was, there weren’t actually that many deer in the Highlands at the time...

There were so few deer in Glen Strathfarrar that the head stalker, who was setting up the first deer shooting run, actually brought in loads to try to boost up the numbers. And they’re like sheep— they’re selective grazers, they strip down a lot of the richness that the cattle system put into the landscape. Most hunting estates actually feed their deer through the winter, so they’re artificially maintaining a number of deer that is higher than the current capacity of the ecosystem. It does a massive amount of damage. There always should be, and will be, deer in the Highlands, but the number that we have at the moment is way outside what the ecosystem can support.

29

vi: Our Assistant Editor in the Field the Highlands, but the number that we have at the moment is way outside what the ecosystem can support.

The image that most people have of the Scottish Highlands as a naturally lonely and heathery wilderness is, in fact, the product of these changes in land use. The very desolation that sets hearts fluttering was described by ecologist Frank Fraser Darling (1903-1979) as a ‘wet desert.’ But this depleted biodiversity is a comparatively recent phenomenon: Before the nineteenth century, the landscape would have looked completely different. It wasn’t quiet or peaceful— it would have been full of noise. You would have had hordes of people and cows up in the hills; Drumochter, one of the main passes into the Highlands, had six thousand cows in it every summer. So there would be people moving up and down from the hills, people from the wintertown bringing supplies up and taking the butter down, and much more woodland and greenery. The whole romantic idea of the Highlands as desolate hills full of deer is a product of the Victorian era.

Sam continues: The shieling system certainly wasn’t perfect, and we don’t want to romanticise it or trivialise it— and I think that people who come to the project realise very quickly that it’s not that romantic, when they’ve got to get up early and look after the cows. It was a hard life. But it was also a system that was mutually beneficial, a really sustainable way of utilising that summer growth up in the hills.

At the time of its demise in Scotland, agriculturalists were “very derogatory” about the “primitiveness” of seasonal transhumance, “but recently there’s been a sense of looking back to some of our old practices and re-evaluating them, and realising that actually this isn’t as primitive as we thought it was”.

There’s an interesting dynamic between continuity and change at play, Sam concludes: With The Shieling Project, we’re trying to straddle that. We’re not trying to re-live the past— we’re not all dressing up in period costume or kilts, and we’ve got lots of modern technology that is appropriate for what we need. But that’s what’s interesting about what we’re trying to do— and about what’s happening more broadly in the Highlands at the moment, that we’re just a part of. People are interested in looking at what regenerative agriculture means, at how community ownership and different traditions of land use can be transformative. It certainly doesn’t mean a completely fresh take. I think it means keeping one foot in the past— looking to the past to find new systems for the future…We run courses, day sessions, residential trips...We’re just trying to inspire folk about the skills that people used to have, and then look at the future with those skills. Because all those issues are still really present— how we produce our food, how we look after the land, what we know about the natural world. They’re all really pressing concerns.

Images: Reproduced with the kind permission of Sam Harrison and The Shieling Project.

To find out more about The Shieling Project, visit www.theshielingproject.org

30

vi: Our Assistant Editor in the Field

31

Angela Macmillan Geranium 2

32

vi: In Focus

The Branch: living by leaves in Osaka, Japan Patrick M. Lydon and Suhee Kang

One afternoon several years ago, Suhee and I stood on a weedy natural farm in the upper reaches of a small valley in the Kyushu region of Japan. We were halfway into a four-year project producing a film on natural farming, and had just finished one of our key interviews. As we stood in the field, a wind fluttered down through the forested mountains behind us, touching the backs of our necks. A few leaves travelled with this wind, floating down into the vegetable farm, and the wind continued to the lower valley and the city below. Just as the wind became inaudible, we could hear a wee click-clack echo back up toward us, as a train pulled away from the local station.

Later, Suhee and I were down there, sitting on the next train. We joked about how the wind had given us a tour of Geddes’ valley section. Well, it was half joking. Perhaps the wind knows it better than we do. Of course, intellectually we know that by leaves we live, but this only brings us part of the way to a true understanding. Where do we find the rest of this true understanding? Nature will gladly illuminate it, but only if we are willing to practice cultivating a relationship— to listen, to see, to touch, to smell, to taste —slowly and attentively. Easy enough on a little farm above a city, far more of a challenge in the midst of that city.

Like Patrick Geddes, our work seeks to facilitate relationship-building between people, cities, and the environment, suggesting that every city needs places where the wind rustles through a small forest, and the leaves fall at our doorsteps and in our gardens. These are the places that remind us of what we are part— this beautiful, delicate, always-evolving cycle of birth, life, and death.

Japan and Korea already have many small urban forests. These forests are often linked to tiny shrines with sacred trees, some of them well over a thousand years old. These places serve many cultural purposes, but one under-appreciated purpose is in helping human beings acknowledge their relationship with the living landscape, on a daily basis. In this part of the world, we have met many who greet and give thanks to the trees as part of everyday life.

33

vii: In Focus Suhee and I believe that such sacred mindsets are necessary for our continued survival as a species.

These need not be institutionalised to be effective. The act of relating ourselves to our local nature can be played out independently on a less formal level, by neighbourhoods, by individuals. After finishing our film project, we decided to live in Osaka, and to create just such an informal sacred space for nature and people in the city. We called this space The Branch Pocket Farm.

Pocket Farm was an empty housing lot when we arrived. It might have soon become a parking spot, but with a bit of talking to the landowner and neighbours, and a few shovels and seeds, it began its new life as a natural herb farm. This space owes much to the spirit of Patrick Geddes, while also being infused with the mindsets of natural farmers we have filmed and worked with over the past decade.

Geddes might have got on well with these farmers. Their way of seeing the landscape and plants is of seeing kin. In practice, at the Pocket Farm, this means: § Bugs and weeds are not our enemies § External inputs from outside the local area are not necessary § The space is freely open to neighbours and visitors § When in the garden, practise awareness, and allow nature to show the way Within a year of working with this mindset, both wild plants and herbs were flourishing together in the garden. Soon, a Nankin Haze tree (Triadica sebifera) of some six feet, with a display of leaves like fireworks, had grown front and centre among the Rose Geraniums (Pelargonium capitatum). Another quick-growing tree took root not far behind it, alongside the Apple Mint (Mentha suaveolens) and Japanese Mugwort (Artemisia princeps). Meanwhile, Dokudami (Houttunyia cordata), Long-Headed Poppies (Papaver dubium), and several kinds of Wood Sorrel (Oxalis spp.) thrived together in more damp areas. We have noted thirty-two species of plant friends in this tiny space. Most of them arrived of their own accord. We only provided the opportunity for their growth. Soon enough, passers-by were stopping to take pictures and to admire their new leafy neighbours. Perhaps the leaves wanted to come back into this neighbourhood, in a way that would re-connect passing people to the landscape, to the beauty and truth in a leaf.

34

vii: In Focus

35

vii: In Focus

36

vii: In Focus

Pocket Farm has helped us notice more of those values that are measured in non-monetary terms; the value in the number of times people stop to enjoy a new flower; the value in the diversity of wild plants; or the value in the cups of tea made from these plants and shared with guests. Suhee makes a pretty nice herbal tea.

Attempting to value urban spaces in alternative ways— through meaningful relationships, and invaluable moments of sensory delight —has taught us much about how to live life as ecological beings.

During this relationship-building— with the plants, with visiting artists, with neighbours, and with workshop participants —we have become more thankful, and more attentive to the surprisingly rich world of plants and animals that live within an urban neighbourhood. This experience is like a training of the mind, and once we start this path, we begin to find treasure everywhere we look.

Both practice and science show us that human beings have an innate ability to know and follow nature, and that plants have vast potential to help human beings find a way forward. All we need do is to remember how to listen. To do this, we need pockets of ecological significance everywhere; pocket parks, pocket farms, pocket gardens, pocket wetlands. We need spaces for leaves in every neighbourhood. It is only when such places and practices come together, that we can know fully— intellectually and spiritually —what it means to live by leaves. From here, a truly ecologically sound society can begin to take root.

Is it an impossible task, to change mindsets so radically? Perhaps not as impossible as we might think.

Two years after starting the Pocket Farm, the house just beside the farm was torn down. We heard that the real estate company had initially thought to expand the nearby parking spaces (again). Instead, they invited us to freely expand our Pocket Farm into the newly empty space. Even to a real estate company, leaves can be worth more than parking spaces. It was a small win for us ecological beings, and one that makes us wonder what our cities could be like, if we all knew the value of leaves.

Images All images by the authors.

This article first appeared in La Feuille des Feuilles, No. 17: Spring 2022 (pp.7-11). We are grateful to the editors for allowing us to reproduce it here, as part of an exchange between our publications.

More information on The Branch Pocket Farm is available from www.cityasnature.org

37

vii: Sage Advice

Mind the gap

Callum Halstead Since coming to Cambo Gardens last summer, I have been working closely with our Head Gardener, Katherine Taylor, to improve the planting in various parts of the garden. Having spent a lot of time looking critically at the existing schemes, I have tried to make sense of what differentiates the successful and welldesigned areas from those that require more work. Of course, there is more than one way to design a garden, and different areas naturally have their strengths and weaknesses.

However, there are a few key attributes that have helped the better designed parts of the garden stand out from the rest. The welldesigned areas have clearly discernible themes, and the plants complement oneanother, working harmoniously as an ensemble. In general, they are also more densely planted, and thus look full throughout the season— with at least one or two varieties either flowering, or putting on some other sort of display, at almost any given point throughout the year. In contrast, sparsely planted beds with too much soil on show often look quite underwhelming, and the bare soil tends to act as an open invitation for weeds to invade and gain a foothold— always guaranteed to take the edge off any display.

38

It is sparse planting that I would like to address this month. As most of us add to our gardens bit by bit over time, rather than designing it all in one go, it’s very easy to end up with empty spaces in borders, where not a lot happens at certain times of the year. So, let’s cast a critical eye over what is going on at ground level, and think about enriching the planting in our borders, filling gaps, and getting more out of the space that we have available.

When planting a border, we should be aiming to create a tapestry of plants that work together to cover most of the soil throughout the growing season. As each month goes by, different plants will take over from one another, each growing taller than the last, creating layers of vegetation. This type of planting is called ‘succession planting’ and, when successfully carried out, it results in displays that have a long season of interest, with the added bonus of being relatively low maintenance. Not only will the beds look full and beautiful, but by covering the soil with plants that you do want, you will be leaving very little room for those that you don’t want.

This significantly reduces the amount of weeding that you will have to do, leaving you more time to enjoy the display as its crescendo builds.

vii: Sage Advice As many popular garden perennials will not start to put on much growth until April or May, this leaves plenty of room available to create early season displays, using plants that won’t mind having other things growing over them later in the year. Spring bulbs are a natural choice for filling gaps in the early part of the season.

Snowdrops (Galanthus spp.), Crocuses (C. spp.), Scilla (S. spp.), Daffodils (Narcissus spp.), Tulips (Tulipa spp.), and numerous other bulbs can all be planted relatively densely around your other plants, to provide a succession of flowers that will last from Christmas to early summer. When planting Daffodils and Tulips as filler plants, I prefer to select shorter growing varieties so that, when they reach the end of their flowering seasons, their floppy leaves can easily be covered and hidden by the foliage of taller plants.

Anemones are excellent partners for spring bulbs. The many wonderful cultivars of our native Wood Anemone (Anemone nemorosa) will slowly spread to form drifts that will start to flower from mid-March. Anemone ‘Leeds Variety’ is a fine form, with its extra-large, pure white flowers. For a touch of colour, A. ‘Robinsoniana’ has soft, bluish mauve flowers, while the white petals of A. ‘Kentish Pink’ are backed with rich magenta, offering a lovely contrast. If yellow is more your colour, then the closely related Yellow Anemone (A. ranunculoides), also known as Wood Ginger, is an excellent choice. It spreads quickly, but is unlikely to outcompete and dominate its neighbours. We grow all of these varieties and more at Cambo, all mixed in together. The combined effect is just magical.

When spring starts to feel like it might just turn into summer, and my larger perennials finally start to get going, I become less fussed about whether or not my filler plants are particularly showy. Rather than spectacular floral displays, what I really want is good, contrasting foliage that will help to frame and foreground their larger neighbours when it’s their turn to take centre stage. As their neighbours grow taller, the amount of light available for the filler plants will gradually decrease. Consequently,

many of the best plants to use in this situation are varieties that don’t mind a bit of shade. A good grass to use is Wood Melick (Melica uniflora f. albida). The popularity of this little plant has soared in recent years, after it appeared in a good number of show gardens at Chelsea a few years ago. Its strappy, vibrant green leaves add a touch of brightness to the shady spots between other plants, and its fishing rod-like panicles of little white flowers will dance elegantly in the lightest breeze.

If you would prefer to cover the ground more completely, another shade-lover that will spread to fill the space between your other plants is the perfectly named Mouse Plant (Arisarum proboscidium). This curious cousin of our native Lords-and-Ladies (Arum maculatum) has bizarre flowers that look exactly like the rear end of a mouse that is swiftly disappearing down a hole. The plant is primarily grown for its low-growing, glossy, arrowhead-shaped leaves, which form an attractive ground cover.

Sticking with glossy-leaved plants, a somewhat different option is Ajuga reptans ‘Caitlin’s Giant’, a form of Bugle. If this plant had a persona, I would imagine it to be a bit of a goth. Its shiny, near-black foliage reflects deep hues of purple and green, and it has a tendency to creep around in shady spaces.

The usefulness of its ground-covering abilities is augmented by the fact that it is more or less evergreen— and, if it creeps somewhere that 39

vii: Sage Advice you don’t want it to go, it’s shallow rooted and very easy to remove. An alternative would be the Spotted Dead Nettle (Lamium maculatum). Varieties such as L. ‘Pink Pewter’, with its light pink flowers, or L. ‘White Nancy’, with white, are both superb options. Although not evergreen, the marbled silver and green foliage will provide a lovely backdrop for your other plants for much of the season. If you do decide to try Lamium, please don’t be put off if the plants you buy look pretty terrible in their pots, as if they are trying to climb out.

For whatever reason, Lamium is just one of those plants that never seems to look good when potted. Once in the ground, they will doubtless perk up and start forming attractive carpets of beautifully textured leaves.

White flowers always give shadier spots a bit of a lift. The sweetly scented Lily of the Valley (Convallaria majalis) is a timeless classic that is ideally suited to filling empty space, and is particularly useful for under-planting deciduous shrubs. If the area you need to fill is on the larger side, then the little-known but quite wonderful Large-leaved Pachyphragma macrophyllum could be the plant to use. Over time, it will form a carpet of handsome

40

evergreen foliage that takes on purple tones through the winter. In early to mid-spring, it produces frothy heads of pure white flowers.

For smaller gardens, another of my favourites, the Three-leaved Cuckoo Flower (Cardamine trifolia), will create a similar effect on a smaller scale.

I can’t write an article about useful plants for filling gaps and not mention Epimediums (E. spp.). It’s fair to say that I obsess somewhat over these plants: I grow in the region of fifty different varieties in my own garden. So, you can be assured that this recommendation comes from the heart. These plants offer such value to the gardener at all times of year. Every garden should have one— or perhaps five!

The varieties that I mention here will spread to fill space, but there are many other tremendous varieties that are clump-forming, so will stay more or less where you put them.

The first that I would like to share with you is a widely available variety that has really impressed me at Cambo this year. Its name is a bit of a mouthful: Epimedium x perralchicum ‘Frohnleiten’. It’s an old cultivar from Germany that produces an abundance of heart-shaped leaves, each with a very attractive veined pattern of fresh green over bronze. The vibrancy of its foliage, and its sweet little yellow flowers, work wonders in areas of deeper shade. Epimedium epsteinii is a very low-growing species that will form a dense matt of deep green, spiny foliage, making it very useful at the front of a border. Its flowers are held sparsely, but they are a joy to behold: four pure white outer petals contrast with the inner four spurred and claw-like petals, which are blood red in colour. My final recommendation is Epimedium ‘Black Sea’, named for its robust foliage that turns from green to a deep reddish-purple through the winter months. While the leaves are big and bold, the flowers are comparatively dainty, each one looking hand-painted with raspberry-red over buttermilk-yellow.

Epimediums are semi-evergreen, meaning that they will hold on to their leaves through the winter, but a fresh set of new leaves will appear in mid-spring. You can leave the old leaves on the plant, but I find the older foliage

vii: Sage Advice can start to look a bit tired, so I often cut everything back to the ground in late February to refresh them completely each year. A benefit of looking after the plant in this way is that it provides an uninterrupted view of the newly emerging leaves— which are usually a lovely red or bronze colour, before gradually turning green —as well as showing off the colourful, spidery flowers that appear at around the same time.

It’s all very well me giving you lists of plants to look out for but, as some of them aren’t widely available, it would be unhelpful not to also tell you where you might hope to find them. Three of my current favourite nurseries are listed below. Happy plant hunting.

Beth Chatto produces a fine selection of excellent garden perennials. Most of the plants on offer are varieties that Beth herself once grew and rated highly, so you know what you are buying is garden-worthy. www.bethchatto.co.uk Macplants Nursery in East Lothian is a longestablished, family-run business that offers one of the widest selections of herbaceous perennials in Scotland. Their plants are extremely well looked after, and always arrive in top condition. www.macplants.co.uk Edrom Nursery poses a real threat to my bank balance. Their website is full of unusual plant varieties that are hard to come by elsewhere.

They have a number of plant specialisms, including Snowdrops, Hepaticas and Epimediums— all of which I find extremely difficult to resist. www.edrom-nurseries.co.uk Images: Callum Halstead Arisarum proboscidium Epimedium 'Frohnleiten’

41

Angela Macmillan Canach

42

viii: The Climate Column

Midsummer madness Patrick Dunne

One theme of this month‘s Herbology News is ‘change’, so let‘s talk about climate change.

Seven months ago, Glasgow hosted COP26. I will forgive you if you don't remember it too clearly. What was the outcome? What was the promise? What is the lasting image? What is the legacy, half a year later?

For me the image is of the British Prime Minister (maybe ex-PM by the time this goes to press) puffing up a speech with his trademark lofty rhetoric, before flying by private jet to a men-only London club where he mingled with Conservative Party donors.

It’s an image that sums up so much of our current government’s approach to climate.

Let’s be honest, most governments have behaved like this for decades; warm words, long-distance promises, non-binding selfregulation, followed by self-congratulation before rich (mostly white) men ensure nothing really changes in relation to fossil fuel exploitation.

In the past few months, we have seen the release of the new IPCC report, AR6. The report’s message has been somewhat lost in the maelstrom of Russia’s invasion of Ukraine and, in the UK, between the various dumpsterfire scandals that are engulfing the incumbent government. The report is wide-reaching and interesting. It should be the focus of global attention. In the Guardian (04.04.22) Fiona Harvey wrote: The world can still hope to stave off the worst ravages of climate breakdown but only through a ‘now or never’ dash to a low-carbon economy and society, scientists have said in what is in effect a final warning for governments on the climate.

A final warning. That is as stark as it gets.

Secretary General of the United Nations, Antonio Guterres, tweeted:

Climate activists are sometimes depicted as dangerous radicals. But the truly dangerous radicals are the countries that are increasing the production of fossil fuels. Investing in new fossil fuels infrastructure is moral and economic madness.

No one could deny the report can be challenging to read. Firstly, it’s difficult to find.

The IPCC website is a bit of a nightmare, with seemingly endless reports and links to decades of research. And when you do find AR6, it isn’t clear how this new report relates to what was released in February, or last year— what does ‘AR6’ even mean? Having read the previous reports, and presented and helped deliver readings of 2018’s 1.5 Degrees report to audiences in the UK, Australia, and New Zealand, I have to say that the accessibility and official communications around these reports are a mess. Occasionally impenetrable, regularly confusing, elitist and infuriating, it is no wonder most of our media limits itself to reprinting the official press releases or short synopses of each Summary for Policy Makers. It may interest you to know that it is the language of these Summary for Policy Makers sections that is picked over and approved by all the author nations. It is this section of each report that is approved by the big polluters, exploiters, beneficiaries of the current fossil fuel system. It is this section that is then reprinted and quoted in the news cycle that accompanies the release of each report.

Now that AR6 is in the public domain, though, what can we make of it? I would certainly recommend you try to engage with this report. It is vital we have access to the warnings and science it contains if we are ever going to force change, regardless of how unlikely such change now seems. Amy Westervelt delivered a brilliant explainer in the outstanding podcast, Upstream. I urge you to listen. It is damning, and frightening. It is a near final warning that we must reduce emissions, end extraction and exploration, 43

viii: The Climate Column and change the economics and politics of capitalist growth if we are to have a liveable future. We must do more if we are to have a fair and just one. It will be no surprise to readers of this publication that, here in the UK and globally, we are mostly heading firmly in the wrong direction.

These months of late evenings and warm weather make for pleasant gardening, outdoor socialising, bird watching, and getting out into nature. Sometimes it is possible to forget all the bad things happening in the world, the state of the climate, fossil fuels. Unfortunately, we cannot afford to ignore that the big producing countries and companies are using the war in Ukraine to push for new oil fields, new areas of exploitation, and less regulation. Earlier this year, campaigners stopped the proposed Cambo oilfield. Now the government is arm in arm with the oil industry, forcing through legislative policy— known as ‘Jackdaw’ — which seeks to exploit new areas. This is being touted under the banner of energy independence, in the face of dependence on Russian gas. You can be sure the UK government’s new energy policies mention nothing about reducing fossil fuel dependency (either domestic or foreign), effecting a just transition, or enabling the domestic insulation that would reduce our emissions in a meaningful way.

Meanwhile, our news reports yet another bleaching of the Great Barrier Reef, as India broils in a heatwave that threatens life and health and shows no signs of abating (AFP Delhi, 28.04.22).

These are scary times. We mustn’t get distracted and befogged by the scandals and the sleaze. The climate is breaking down in front of us. Those whom we have elected to serve us are not only letting us down, they are encouraging the industries that imperil our very lives.

Do what you can.

44

References AFP, Delhi (2022) ‘Extreme heatwave in India and Pakistan causes power and water shortages’, article in The Guardian newspaper, 28.04.22 Guterres, A. (2022) Post on social media platform, Twitter: https://twitter.com/antonioguterres/status/15 11294073474367488 Harvey, F. (2022) ‘IPCC report: ’now or never’ if world is to stave off climate crisis’, article in The Guardian newspaper, 04.04.22 The IPCC‘s Sixth Assessment Report: Mitigation of Climate Change (known as AR6) is available here: www.ipcc.ch/report/ar6/wg3/ For Amy Westervelt’s podcast, see: www.hottakepod.com/about-us/

Angela Macmillan Gàrradh Ghranaidh

45

ix: Foraging through Folklore

Getting lucky Ella Leith

My folkloric foraging often leads me down some dark paths. Not so this month. For, despite being a humble and everyday plant, no one seems to have a bad word to say about Clover (Trifolium spp.). It is light-hearted and lucky, generous with its scent, has sweet ‘honey-stalks’, and happily delivers nutrients: A most true maxim [is] that where a full crop of clover...has grown the next corn crop will be the better for it.

Hence the common saying had its rise, That clover is the mother of corn (Britten, 1880:84).

To ‘live in Clover’ is to be well, prosperous, and content. Those wallowing in delight are likened to ‘a pig in Clover’. Wearing a badge of Clover was believed to offer protection from charms and spells (Pratt, 1852:23).

Indeed, as John Leyden (1775-1811) evoked in his poem, The Elfin-King: Woe, woe, to the wight who meets the green knight, Except on his faulchion arm, Spell-proof he bear, like the brave St Clair, The holy Trefoil’s charm.

The name ‘Holy Trefoil’ is said to have emerged after St. Patrick used the Clover leaf in his teachings, to illustrate the Holy Trinity.

46

Across Ireland, a Shamrock (seamróg, or ‘little Clover’) is traditionally worn on the bonnet or lapel of those celebrating the national saint’s day. Later, the leaf is ‘drowned’ in a bowl of punch or wine, then drunk (Thistelton Dyer, 1911:138). St. Patrick’s Day almost always falls within Lent, but traditionally ‘all Lenten restrictions are set aside on this day’ (Danaher, 1994:62), making the Clover emblematic of that one day’s lucky escape from the rigours of self-restraint and sobriety.

It is the four-leafed Clover that is the real emblem of good luck, however. The earliest written record of its fortune-giving properties dates from 1620, when astrologaster Sir John Melton wrote that, “if a man walking in the fields, find any four-leafed grasse, he shall in a small while after finde some good thing” (in Oakley Harrington, 2020:42). Exactly why a four-leafed Clover brings luck is unclear. In Christian tradition, its luckiness is often attributed to it being shaped like a cross (Brosseau Gardner, 1942:97), but it seems as likely to be due to its rarity; the ratio of threeto four-leafed Clovers is 5000:1. Even rarer are five-, six-, and even seven-leafed Clovers.

According to a correspondent ‘who claimed to have studied clover for years’, writing in the

ix: Foraging through Folklore letters page of the Sunday Express in 1961, all Clovers except those with a single leaf had a lucky or protective traditional meaning (in Coote Lake, 1961:409). Two leaves signals ‘a new lover, especially for the recently jilted’; three is the sign of the Trinity; four brings about ‘general good fortune’; five, an ‘increase of silver’; six, ‘eventual fame’ or ‘the gift of seership’; and seven leaves is a ‘mystical symbol’ which ‘hath all things in itself’ and protects the carrier from murder (ibid). The list stops there, although it needn’t— the world record for the highest number of leaves on a single stem of Clover is fifty-six (National Geographic News, 2009). Even I think that’s pushing it a bit.

While the Sunday Express’ correspondent believed ‘general good fortune’ to be the gift of a four-leafed Clover, other traditions are more specific. According to D’Este, ‘a rhyme from Celtic regions associates each leaf with a different aspect of life’: One leaf is for fame, and one leaf is for wealth, And one for a faithful lover, And one to bring you glorious health, Are all in the four-leaved clover.

Certainly four-leafed Clovers have widely been considered lucky for love. Australian Ernie ‘Joe’ Wells (1907-1994) reported in 1987 that: They say if you put em down your left shoe, the first girl you meet you’re going to marry. That’s what they used to reckon.

Moreover, Clovers had the power to ‘bring lovers back’: It is an old custom that when lovers are to be parted through travel, the lover staying behind places a four-leaf clover in the shoe of their departing sweetheart to ensure they come back, faithful and safe (Oakley Harrington, 2020:43).

Good fortune in the form of wealth could also come from placing a four-leafed Clover in your shoe— ‘look in after a week, but not till then,’ says Babcock (1888:92), ‘and you will find a gold bracelet’. The humble Clover

might also assist your gambling, as long as you ‘ensur[e] that you never boast of it and never give it away’ (Oakley Harrington, 2020:44). In fact, the Clubs in packs of cards may derive from the association between luck and Clover: in French, the name of this suit is Trèfle, a direct reference to the French common name for Trifolium (Ellacombe, 1884:56). As for glorious health, one of the more poignant traditions associated with fourleafed Clovers is the belief that they would protect the wearer from conscription into the armed forces (Oakley Harrington, 2020:45)— increasing the odds of a long and healthy life.

If you’ve never found a four-leafed Clover and desperately want one, Hebridean tradition holds that all you need is a new-born foal and a sizeable time investment. When the foal first sneezes to clear its airways, the dubh-liath (literally, the black-grey) should be kept for seven years; after this, a four-leafed Clover will grow out of it (MacNeill, 1976). But sometimes, a four-leafed Clover will come to you by chance, and you may get a surprising indication that you’re near one. Milkmaids, Oakley Harrington (2020) records, used to place bunches of grass on their heads to steady the milk-pails: Some would sometimes see fairies and not understand why...The grass bunch, examined, would always reveal a four-leafed clover (p43).

Many would try to deliberately engineer a fairy sighting by wearing a ‘Northumbrian fairy crown’— a wreath studded with four-leafed Clovers —or by making a green ointment from four-leafed Clovers gathered ‘at a certain time of the moon’ (ibid). Even if you didn’t wish to see fairies, this ointment was believed to make you invisible in certain regards: a wily elderly Cornish man even used it when he wanted to shoplift at Penzance market (ibid). For those with less nefarious aims, having the ‘ability to see invisible beings such as fairies’ was believed to then ‘improve the ability to discern lies and perceive liars,’ allowing you to ‘see right through illusions’, and tell whether the person you were speaking to ‘wish[ed] to curse you or do magic against you’ (ibid).

47

ix: Foraging through Folklore The power of the four-leafed Clover transcends Trifolium the plant; its luckiness can be evoked merely through its shape, formed in any material, and ideally in combination with other lucky symbols. In 1908, an exhibition of ‘Specimens of Modern Mascots and Ancient Amulets’ was arranged for the Folklore Society’s AGM, to acknowledge the ‘great revival in this country, during the past few years, of the belief in luck and protective amulets...amongst bridge players, actors, sportsmen, motorists, gamblers, burglars, and others engaged in risky occupations’ (Wright and Lovett, 1908:288). Among examples of ‘commercial amulets’ were a ‘motor mascot’ showing ‘a horse-shoe...with seven nail heads, to be fastened to the front of the radiator and containing in its cup...three four-leaved clovers’, and a gilt four-leafed Clover with a lucky image engraved on each leaf: a threeleafed Clover on one; a horse-shoe on the second; a pig on the third; and the words ‘Good-luck’ on the fourth (ibid:293-294).

I’m not sure I approve of hedging one’s bets that much. After all, several traditions hold that none of the Clover’s luck should be kept for oneself; indeed, many believe that it’s actively unlucky to keep a four-leafed Clover (Coote Lake, 1961:409).

So, if you do find one, the best course of action might be to give it away— as a gift of luck to someone else.

References Babcock, W.H. (1888) ‘Folk-Tales and FolkLore’ in The Folk-Lore Journal, 6(1): 85-94 Britten, J. (1880) ‘Proverbs and Folk-Lore from William Ellis’s “Modern Husbandman” (1750)’ in The Folk-Lore Record, 3(1): 80-86 Brosseau Gardner, G. (1942) ‘British Charms, Amulets and Talismans’ in Folklore, 53(2): 95103 Coote Lake, E.F. (1961) ‘Folk Life and Traditions’ in Folklore, 72(2): 408-413 D’Este, M. (1028) ‘The Four-Leaf Clover: Druids, Eden, and… Handbags?’ on the Folklore Thursday blog, 15th February 2018, www.folklorethursday.com 48

Danaher, K. (1994) The year in Ireland.

Mercier Press: Cork Ellacombe, H. (1884) The Plant-Lore and Garden-Craft of Shakespeare. W. Satchell and Co.:London Leyden, J. (1801) ‘The Elfin-King’, available from literaryballadarchive.com MacNeill, J. (1976) Interview: ‘An dubh-liath anns na searraich’, Track ID: 60918, www.tobarandualchais.com National Geographic News (2009), ‘Week in Photos: Unlucky Kangaroo, 56-Leaf Clover, More’, 12th May 2009, available from http://news.nationalgeographic.com/news via web.archive.org Oakley Harrington, C. (2020) Treadwell’s Book of Plant Magic. Treadwells: London Pratt, A. (1852) Wild Flowers. Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge: London Thistelton Dyer, T.F. (1911) British Popular Customs Present and Past. Bell and Sons Ltd.: London Wells, E. (1987) ‘Weather lore and good luck customs’, Track ID: 84742, www.tobarandualchais.com Wright, A.R. and Lovett, E. (1908) ‘Specimens of Modern Mascots and Ancient Amulets of the British Isles’ in Folklore, 19(3): 287-303

ix: Botanica Fabula

Clover and change Amanda Edmiston

My late mother-in-law loved bees. She taught my daughters not to be scared of the gingery bumblebees or common carder bees hovering around the Red Clover (Trifolium pratense) that flourished in the wilder regions of her garden. She smiled even when a bee landed on her arm, as she showed the children how to suck the nectar from the ‘sooky pom-poms’. The older child shied away at first— they’d been terrified by all things flying and stripy since a gang of wasps tried to mug them for a lollipop when they were three or four. But they were slowly won over, as grandma let the bee walk down her arm and stroll across her palm, before it lifted off in search of a richer source of pollen. This is one of both children’s most enduring memories of their grandmother. To this day, whenever a bee comes near the younger child, she likes to tell anyone listening how her grandma let bees walk on her hands, and knew how to get sugar from flowers.

My own favourite childhood memories include warm school lunchtimes spent on the playing fields, searching for magical four-leafed Clovers amongst the purple tufts and attendant Daisies (Bellis perennis) scattered liberally through the grass. I remember the charm-like words we learnt about this widely sought-after quatrefoil: One leaf for love, one leaf for wealth, One leaf brings luck, so please hand it over, The last leaf will bring you good looks and health— All growing from the green, four-leafed Clover.

I've heard other versions since— and many reminiscences about plant-lore from around Scotland that suggest all sorts of other magical rhymes and associations —but this is the one I stick to, even though, when I finally found one at the age of seven, I rigidly refused to give one of the leaves to a friend. Instead, I pressed it into my tiny, navy blue, leather-bound Collins English Dictionary. The book had belonged to my mum before me, and I carried it everywhere during my primary school years, intent on consuming a diet of new words. Words and plants were passions of mine by the time I left that class, so maybe my dictionary-stored four-leafed Clover had already begun to work its magic.

Many years later, while packing for a life-changing house move, it fluttered— fragile and tissuelike —from the pages of my dictionary. Its edges were puckered and starting to disintegrate, but I managed to gently catch it as it fell, and placed it back in the pages of the book. After I had driven the rented van into the driveway beside my new home in Glasgow, it was in one of the first boxes I unpacked. My mind kept being drawn back to this leaf, thinking about how it had accompanied me for over twenty years, mostly forgotten, the mere residue of a childhood memory, preserving my luck.

49 The stress and anxiety involved in the upheaval of the move; the huge transition I'd undertaken to reach Glasgow and start my degree in herbal medicine; the dust from unpacking and then cleaning the small, slightly ramshackle, converted stable that was my new home...all of this played havoc with my skin. Eczema bubbled, then started to peel in scales, lizard-like— but, as my

ix: Botanica Fabula

The stress and anxiety involved in the upheaval of the move; the huge transition I'd undertaken to reach Glasgow and start my degree in herbal medicine; the dust from unpacking and then cleaning the small, slightly ramshackle, converted stable that was my new home...All of this played havoc with my skin. Eczema bubbled, then started to peel in scales, lizard-like— but, as my student-clinic supervisor added tincture of Clover to my mix, it started to clear. I felt that I was shedding my skin and starting again.

My four-leafed Clover didn't make another appearance for four years. Perhaps it had been biding its time, holding a space for the next transition. It re-entered my consciousness just when I was starting my journey as a herbal storyteller. I was researching lore around the plants that feature in children’s games. Daisy chains, and the petal-plucking choruses of ‘loves me, loves me not’, had already woven their way into my thoughts. Now, it was the turn of the lucky Clover rhyme from my childhood. My mind went back to the leaves in my dictionary, and I hastened to check whether the Clover was there. Sure enough, its fragile shape still clung to the page full of words beginning with ‘S’.

During an outdoors storytelling session, I asked if anyone had different rhymes or traditions around lucky Clover. The children scanned the grass, hoping to find one. It was then that I was told by one young mum that, when she was growing up, she was always told that placing your found four-leafed Clover in particular places would bring about different types of luck. If pressed into a Bible, she said, it would protect the finder from evil; if in a wallet, it might bring wealth; in a letter from a lover, then it would bring luck to the relationship.

As I travelled home that day, I pondered. What sort of luck might a four-leafed Clover bring if pressed in the pages of a dictionary, sitting amongst the ‘S’ words? Might it have had a hand in helping to weave, into the very fabric of my world, so many stories?

50

ix: Red Squirrel Press presents...

Mandy Haggith Zi Gong For thirty years the palace has lain empty awaiting occupation by the empress.

Its corniced corridors are voids, its rooms have never chimed with a child’s play.

No little royal feet have ever stamped here.

Each month the crippled servants gather with buckets of tears to bleach and scrub.

We drag all the tattered furniture outside and we wheedle open the sky lights to let the moon and stars bleed in

hoping the night will bathe everything clean ready for the coming of the unborn queen.

Originally from Northumberland, Mandy Haggith has made her home in Assynt in the north west of Scotland, where she combines writing with sailing, environmental activism, and teaching literature and creative writing at the University of the Highlands and Islands. She won the Robin Jenkins Literary Award for environmental writing in 2009, and in 2013 was poet in residence at the Royal Botanic Gardens Edinburgh. She has three other published poetry collections (letting light in, Castings and A-B-Tree), a poetry anthology (Into the Forest), a non-fiction book (Paper Trails) and four novels (The Last Bear, Bear Witness, The Walrus Mutterer, and The Amber Seeker). Her collection Why the Sky is Far Away was published by Red Squirrel Press in 2019.

Red Squirrel Press is a self-funded independent press based in Scotland. It was founded in April 2006 by Sheila Wakefield and has published over 200 titles to date.

www.redsquirrelpress.com

Facebook: redsquirrelpress

Twitter: @redsquirrelpress

51

Angela Macmillan Curly Fern

52

x: Book Club

The Wilderness Cure: Ancient Wisdom in a Modern World (Wilde, M.: Simon & Schuster, 2022) Reviewer: Kyra Pollitt

The lockdowns affected us all in unique ways.

To me, the pandemic was yet another scream from Mother Earth that I couldn’t bear to hear.

To block it out, I disconnected from my body and the natural energies that flowed through it. I stopped practising yoga, anaesthetised myself with alcohol, and consumed sugar and fat until my arteries furred, my chakras blocked, my creativity ceased, and I could no longer feel anything, nor recognise myself. I’m still clawing my way back.

Monica (here ‘Mo’) Wilde did the opposite.

She turned away from Mammon and plugged herself directly into Gaia. On 27th November 2020— that day of orgiastic capitalist consumption known as Black Friday —Monica embarked on a year of eating only wild food.

The agreed parameters for the challenge are clearly laid out at the start of the book. The following pages are a diary of this ‘wilderness cure’.

Part foraging guide, part cookbook (though you’ll find few recipes, as such), part personal journal, part political manifesto, and entirely a paean to nature, this is a timely book. The prose is fluid and honest. Although strongly connected to the non-human world, Wilde is not directly walking the path of her ancestry, like Wall Kimmerer. In many ways, this makes the book more immediately relatable. Whilst it would be hard to replicate either Wilde’s expertise in foraging, or her indomitable resourcefulness in the kitchen, it is easy to follow her sharp mind as it explores science and deconstructs many of the myths and false narratives by which we live and, more directly, eat.

nausea”, “a horrible sensation that I’m going to suddenly break into a hot or cold sweat and vomit”, and feels “weak, blurry-eyed, dizzy, and wobbly, with very loud tinnitus“. Hitherto a vegetarian, Wilde finds she must eat fish and meat if she is to have food on her plate and remain well through the hunger gaps the wild year brings. In January, Wilde confesses “without the food in my freezer, I could not survive in this climate on foraged food alone”.

February finds her “aching for fresh greens”, but these hunger gaps can also occur at other, surprising times of year here in Scotland.

Don’t buy the book looking for the latest gimmicky diet to help you shed a few pounds.

Wilde does drop innumerable dress sizes as the year progresses, calculating an overall loss of almost five stone (thirty-one kilos).

However, she also experiences “light-headed dizziness”, “[l]ow blood sugar”, “waves of

Sometimes the diet is repetitive and monotone. So, instead of boring us with the menu, Wilde takes us on interesting and informative diversions. Here Wilde is an Everywoman, falling in step with us as we travel through food chains, archaeology, the making of the landscape, ethnobotany, 53

x: Book Club

witches, queer and gender theories— mushrooms, who knew? —COP26, an IPCC Report, Albrecht’s (2003) notion of solastalgia, the imperative to move beyond the Anthropocene to the Symbiocene, how to eco-clean your frying pan, and much, much more. Along the way we are treated to a live birth, a wild food dinner party, a trip to Poland, and learn to reimagine foraging as “wild shopping”— each trip just as unique and “memorable” as the experience of buying vintage clothes.

I finished the book awed, inspired, and satiated. The only insight I wanted more of was from the gut bacteria analyses Wilde undertook regularly throughout the year.

Perhaps these will form the basis of the next book. In the meantime, I really do hope someone commissions a podcast of the game she plays on long car journeys— I’d definitely tune in to Mo Wilde’s Desert Island Plants.

Wilde’s Polish colleague estimates “the average edible wild species available per community is usually about the 120 mark.” I’m certain Wilde would be able to identify all of these, and more. Tragically, “today over 50 per cent of the world’s daily calorie intake comes from just three species”. There are further consequences in turning from a “plantbased organic economy to a fossil-fuelled economy”; “one in two of us born after 1960 will get cancer”. As Wilde’s important book demonstrates, “the key to thriving is variety”.

Her journey also reconnects us with seasonality, reminding us that our bodies are designed to intake particular fats at particular times of year, sugar when it’s in season. The freshness of the food imparts vital chemical constituents that have noticeable effect: “Emotions, feelings, memories: these are all energy and eating wild food releases them”.

Reference Albrecht, G. (2019) Earth Emotions: new words for a new world. Cornell University Press

By April, Wilde’s body “finally feels in tune again” and “matches the sprite inside”. We are invited to share Wilde’s sprite-like wonder at the natural world, her recovery of a relationship of innocence with the earth.

Wilde’s very practical advice to beginning foragers is just to start learning, one plant at a time. More seasoned herbologists will particularly enjoy the tips on native species that can substitute for Cinnamon, Cardamom, and Coriander, and perhaps the experiments with wild plant rennets for cheesemaking.

Everyone will benefit from the very handy index to plant edibility at the back of the book, and the table showing the calorific content of common wild foods (pp. 204-205 in my copy).

54

The Wilderness Cure will be available in hardback from 23rd June.

Angela Macmillan The Artist in her Studio

55

xi: Contributors

Hazel Brady’s background is in IT, but she has always loved plants and since retiring has expanded her knowledge, especially around herbs. She completed the Diploma in Herbology at RBGE under Catherine Conway-Payne. Retirement has also given her the opportunity to develop another of her interests— an artistic practice centred in drawing and painting.

Patrick Dunne is an Edinburgh-based community gardener. Since 2018 he has, with his partner Katie Smith, co-organised an International Fringe event staging readings of the 2018 IPCC 1.5 Degrees Global Warming report, made lots of flat sourdough bread and camped, marched and organised as an occasional environmental activist.

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

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

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

56

xi: Contributors

Marianne Hughes began following her interest in complementary medicine after a career in Social Work Education and voluntary work in Fair Trade.

Starting with Reflexology & Reiki, she progressed into Herbal Medicine. The evening classes at the RBGE got her hooked and she completed the Certificate in Herbology and, more recently, the Diploma in Herbology. Her current joy is experimenting with herb-growing in her own garden, in a local park, and alongside other volunteers in the RBGE Physic Garden. marianne@commonfuture.co.uk

Suhee Kang is a Korean herbalist and artist. A former environmental book editor, her work today is inspired by natural farming and traditional ways of life in Asia and the Middle East. She tends a small herb garden, produces herbal tea blends, and holds workshops that connect us to nature through herbs. Suhee studied at Sungkyunkwan University (BA, journalism) and is certified by the Korean Herb Association. She lives in Daejeon, Korea. https://blog.naver.com/vertciel

Ann King has always dabbled in gardening in some shape or form is now a horticultural therapist and graduate of the RBGE Herbology Diploma. She is passionate about facilitating nature re-connection and enabling its therapeutic benefits by creatively adapting knowledge and stories for organised group sessions: either outdoors, incorporating exercise; or sedentary, indoor, experiential workshops. You can follow her on IG: @annlovesherbs or at www.thymefornature.com

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

57

xi: Contributors

Patrick M. Lydon is an ecological artist born in the Tamien lands. Influenced by nomadic studies with farmers, forests, and monks in Japan, Korea, and Scotland, his work explores how people and cities can grow together with nature. A graduate of San Jose State University (BA, design) and the University of Edinburgh (MFA, art, space, nature), he writes a weekly illustrated series called The Possible City. He lives in Daejeon, Korea. www.pmlydon.com

Rose Morley qualified as a Bach Flower Registered Practitioner in February 2017, after studying the system for over two years. It was her longstanding, keen interest in alternative medicine, and her passion for flower remedies in particular, that led Rose to obtain Bach Foundation International Register (BFRP) Practitioner status. rose.morley@hotmail.co.uk

Maddy Mould works as an illustrator, designer and photographer, in Glasgow.

IG: @maddymould and maddymould.co.uk

Kyra Pollitt is a graduate of the Diploma in Herbology at the RBGE. When not editing Herbology News, she works as a translator, interpreter, writer and artist. She lives on the Isle of Harris, where she is busily planting and growing a garden. www.actsoftranslation.com and www.wilderorb.com Dora Wagner is a graduate of the RBGE Diploma in Herbology, and a Didactician in Natural Science. She also works as a Naturopath for Psychotherapy, and as a Horticultural Therapist. She currently lectures in Medical Herbalism at the University of Witten/Herdecke, and is leading a project reconstructing the medicinal herb garden of an Anthroposophic Hospital in Germany. dora.wagner@t-online.de and www.plantadora.de

58

59

ix: Looking Forward

07//22: The Lazy Issue If you’ve enjoyed these pages, be sure to catch our next issue, when we’ll be featuring: • • • • • •

A focus on sleep With all your favourite columnists Plus, Herb of the Month: Valerian (Valeriana officinalis) Plus, the art of Lynn Imperatore Plus, we talk to Monica Wilde about the launch of her book Plus, Patrick M. Lydon and Suhee Kang return to talk us through natural farming • Plus, poetry from Nine Arches Presents…

And more….

Herbology News is grateful for the support of Senga Bate, Beth Lucas, and our other patrons.

Join them at www.patreon.com/herbologynews 60