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Contents i Editorial Artist of the Month

Kyra Pollitt Marissa Stoffer

4 5

ii Herb of the Month

Marianne Hughes, Hazel Brady

iii Our Man in the Field….

Dave Hughes meets Catherine Conway-Payne

iv Of Weeds and Weans Plant Medicine and Social Justice

Joseph Nolan Grass Roots Remedies Co-Operative

16 19

v Nature Therapy Anthroposophical Views Flower Remedies

Nathalie Moriarty Dora Wagner Anne Dalziel

25 27 32

vi The Chemistry Column

Dr. Audrey Cameron

vii Garden Gems The Globe Physic Garden

Ruth Crighton-Ward Senga Bate

39 41

viii Plantstuffs Chocolatime Notes from the Brew Room

Elizabeth Oliver Milly Watson Brown Ann King

44 46 48

ix Botanica Fabula Foraging Through Folklore StAnza Presents…

Amanda Edmiston Ella Leith Volha Hapeyeva

51 54 56

x Book Club: Marianne Hughes reviews The Hidden Half of Nature by David Montgomery and Anne Biklé (W.W. Norton &Co., 2016) Kyra Pollitt reviews Digging with the Duchess and Digging Deeper with the Duchess, by Sam Llewellyn, (New Hat, 2014 & 2020

xi The Herbologist’s Diary

xii Contributors Looking Forward

65 70

i: Editorial

Festive Kyra Pollitt The Solstice is behind us. We can only hope the rare, astronomical ‘double planet’ alignment of Jupiter and Saturn, and the dawn of a new astrological Age of Aquarius, augur a gentler and a kinder age— one less driven by consumerism, and more characterized by caring; for each other and for our planet. Let’s welcome an age in which we finally understand that we are organisms like all others, in which we finally take responsibility for our part in the glorious web of life. New Animism is an inspirational philosophy for our Artist of the Month, Marissa Stoffer, who extracts colour and beauty from the plants and minerals she forages. Her work speaks to the heart of herbology as a practice. As Anthroposophical Views takes us back to our first detectable heartbeat, StAnza gives us Belarusian poet Volha Hapeyeva’s slant on the heart as a site of memory. Who better for Our Man in the Field to interview this month, then, but Catherine Conway-Payne— our Executive Editor, and the woman at the heart of herbology for so many of us who have benefited from her teachings at the Royal Botanic Gardens Edinburgh. It’s a joy to pay tribute to her here. We hope that you will have been able to glean all available joy from your festivities thus far. Chocolatime boosts the fun with suggestions for a dancing Cacao ceremony, while Notes from the Brew Room shares a recipe for boozy, herbal chocolate truffles. To add to the revelries, we are now drawing our Grand Winter Raffle. Congratulations to the winners, and a huge thank you to all our donors. If things have become rather too joyful for those with small people in their households, Of Weeds and Weans offers soothing, calming and sage advice on maintaining sanity through these particular holidays. For the grown-ups, Flower Remedies offers all kinds of gentle support for loneliness, loss, and festive stress. Plant Medicine and Social Justice brings us face to face with the Ghost of Christmas Present, reminding us of our privilege and the growing importance of securing access to the means of health and wellbeing for the shocking numbers of people now living in destitution. As this strangest of years draws to a close, we bid a fond farewell to our Plantstuffs column, with thanks to Elizabeth Oliver for her beautiful and evocative contributions. With midwinter now passed, we look to a new year— to the eventual return of longer days and, we hope, greater freedoms. Our Herb of the Month is the beautiful, optimistic Snowdrop (Galanthus nivalis), an important plant in the treatment of dementia. Foraging through Folklore explores some of the myths and traditions surrounding this delicate bloom, whilst Botanica Fabula reminds us of Hans Christian Andersen’s origin tale. Nature Therapy comes indoors, with a look at the healthiest houseplants, while The Globe Physic Garden cleans out the Little Blue Shed to make space for some mysterious packages. As we look forward to Hogmanay, Garden Gems plans ahead, with some practical support from The Chemistry Column. And if you are beginning to draw up your New Year’s Resolutions, why not consider writing a review for our Book Club, or a column for Herbology News? Our thriving community is growing all the time, and we welcome more voices on our pages. Happy reading, and a happy Hogmanay from all of us at HNHQ. Executive Editor Editor Artistic Director Illustrators Treasurer

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

i: Artist of the Month

Marissa Stoffer www.marissastoffer.com Marissa Stoffer is a mixed media artist, based in Edinburgh, currently taking a gap year from a Masters in Painting at the Royal College of Art, London. Although still a student, Marissa is already widely travelled and she cites the residencies she undertook in a remote Finnish forest, and in the Peruvian Amazon jungle as the inspiration for her particular focus. Her practice centres on ecology, plants, and our relationships with them. Creating and recreating landscape— modified and abstracted from both real and imagined images —the juxtapositions in her work explore peculiarities of history, mythology, and belief. Marissa writes: It was in the monochromatic winter forests of Finland that I began to think and feel differently about our connection to nature and how we have reached a point of ecological crisis. It caused me to question who I am as a maker, how I make, and what I want to express. I needed to find a possible solution for myself, a hopeful and healing one that connects to these ideas but also creates kinship and reciprocity in the act of making. To do this, I have been exploring ways in which people in their native landscapes relate to the natural world. Specifically, I have been considering the ontology of New Animism, and methods of making with local materials. I believe New Animism can help re-structure our deep-seated, mechanistic perspective and reconnect us (the Western and Westernising) to our environment. My research has led me to question whether an art practice, and methods of making, can be imbued with an animistic worldview, cultivating kinship with other persons— human or non-human.

In Peru, I studied papermaking, ceramics, and natural pigment painting with people who still live close to nature. They shared stories that linked these materials to their culture, ecology, and spirituality. This inspired me to explore my own locality (Scotland), to look at native plants and learn their history, the colours they produce, and their symbolism in indigenous European myth and folklore. Recently, I have been learning to identify natural pigments from plants and minerals to make dyes, inks, and lake pigments. These dyes can be extracted from tree bark, flowers, leaves, seeds, and minerals. What I enjoy about the process of foraging is it allows me to learn my surroundings sensuously; through touch, smell, taste, and sound. I learn to harvest honourably— taking only what I need, if it is plentiful —and I learn which gifts are brought by the different seasons. Spring and summer give flowers, leaves, and roots, autumn and winter provide fruits, oak galls, and tree bark, followed by a pause. Slowing down is essential to this process; it makes me see more, experience a sense of deep time, understand and respect the natural systems on which we all rely. The origins and stories of materials have become an essential part of how I approach making, and how I relate to the world around me. They foster intimacy and connection with plants and people. After all, it is through stories, myths and folklore that our imaginations have always engaged with our native lands. Plants are key to this, because they act as protagonists across cultures and continents; guiding

i: Artist of the Month us with vegetal wisdom, linking humans to mind, body, and place. Whether through food, material, medicine, ritual, or science, plants are great teachers. Foraging inevitably leads me to consider women’s history with plants, gender politics, changing belief systems, health, magic, and alchemy. But it also links to semiotics, geometry, geology, and science in general. So, I wonder if by using foraged and natural materials, I can bring a sense of the natural world to my practice— a type of wild thinking and feeling through colour, form; if this process of exploring— whether walking through a forest, alongside a canal, or through a city park —can enable me to connect to wild thinking, to invoke that Gaia moment. COVER IMAGE: ‘Tree Elements’ Ink test of tree barks. From the top, six circles each of Apple, Cherry, Willow, Birch, and Oak. The circles represent the cycle of life/ eternity. The squares on the circles represent the four elements of creation, and are made from reactions of the same inks to different modifiers such as Lemon, vinegar, baking soda, copper and iron. The background is made with Oak gall ink. All were made by the artist, with materials foraged in and around Edinburgh INSERT IMAGES Image 1: ‘Take me Back to the Mountains’ Handmade Avocado and Madder ink, and Indian ink on paper. 420mm x 594mm. 2020.

Image 2: ‘Late Summer Berries’ Handmade inks from foraged Bramble, Elderberry, Sloe, and Rosehip, on paper. This is a colour test to check the colour reactions of each ink with various modifiers (acid, copper, iron, etc. 410mm x 310mm. 2020. Image 3: ‘Black Cactus and the Corpse Bud’ Watercolour and ink on canvas. 90cm x 130cm. 2019. Image 4: Foraged Ink Samples Handmade from flowers, leaves, roots, berries, tree barks, and Oak galls collected in and around Edinburgh. Dimensions variable. 2020. Image 5: Lake Pigments Colour extractions from Dandelion, Buddleia, Bramble, Dock Leaf, Mountain Ash, Avocado, Madder, and others. 2020. Image 6: 'Prickly Lands' Handmade Woad watercolour, gouache on canvas. 130cm x 92cm. 2019.

ink,

and

Image 7: ‘Botanical Columns’ Handmade ink from the Cotswolds: Rose petal, Ceras Pansy Tree leaf, Mexican Marigold, Mahonia bark, Hollyhock flower on paper. This is a colour test to check the reaction of each ink with modifiers (acid, copper, iron, etc.) which react and change the colours. 410mm x 310mm. 2020. Special thanks are due to Flora Scott, who made these inks from her organic flower farm. Image 8: ‘Balm for the Wounds of Life’ Royal College of Art WIP show installation. Mixed media, natural ink on paper, Indian ink and natural pigments, Fir tree, and oil on canvas. Dimensions variable. 2020.

Marissa Stoffer Take Me Back to the Mountains

ii: Herb of the Month

Snowdrop (Galanthus nivalis) Marianne Hughes, with illustration by Hazel Brady For many of us, the Snowdrop symbolizes the hope of spring, after the dark days of winter. Glimpses of Snowdrops can uplift the heart. Whilst we do not make Snowdrop tea or tinctures, or perhaps associate the Snowdrop with medicinal plants, there is increasing research into galantamine for the treatment of Alzheimer’s disease. For those of us with loved ones in the midst of any type of dementia, we know how important it is to feel hope that they find some contentment in the moment. Perhaps some evidence of the mind-altering properties of galantamine can be found as far back as Homer’s Odyssey; Homer describes Odysseus using the Snowdrop to clear his mind of Circe’s bewitchment: The root was black, while the flower was as white as milk; the gods call it Moly Galantamine, an alkaloid, occurs naturally in several members of the Amaryllis family (Amaryllidaceae), but was first isolated from the Snowdrop (Galanthus spp., most notably G. woronowii) in the early 1950s— apparently after a Bulgarian pharmacologist saw people rubbing it on their foreheads to ease nerve pain. A Russian pharmacologist reported women living at the foot of the Caucasian mountains giving a decoction of the Snowdrop bulb to children with symptoms of poliomyelitis— the children were reported to have recovered without signs of paralysis. These stories suggest a local, ethnobotanical understanding of the positive impact the Snowdrop bulb could have on the central nervous system. In the 1950s, early research— mostly undertaken in Bulgaria and the former USSR — revealed the Snowdrop’s acetylcholinesterase (AChE) inhibiting properties. This action prevents the breakdown of the neurotransmitter acetylcholine into choline and acetate, thereby increasing both the level and

active duration of acetylcholine in the central nervous system. Acetylcholine is vital for transmission of nerve impulses. In 1957, galantamine was isolated from the leaves of G. nivalis and its effects in alleviating the symptoms of poliomyelitis were investigated. Over the last forty years, Snowdrops and related species have been used for the reversal of neuromuscular blockade. It wasn’t until researchers demonstrated that galantamine penetrated the blood-brain barrier, that its effects on the central nervous system (CNS) became of interest to science. Yet these effects had clearly been understood by the women of the Caucasian mountains! The story of the Snowdrop echoes the fate of so much ethnobotanical knowledge in so many parts of the world. This knowledge of local, traditionally-used, plant-based medicine— often held orally, often by women —seems easily lost, overlooked, or undervalued by Western science. Within the Snowdrop itself, the likely function of galantamine is to deter predators, and when this substance is isolated it can have severe gastrointestinal effects. The side-effects of purely galantamine-based drugs included nausea, vomiting and diarrhoea. So, in 1997, a synthetic and commercial product based on

ii: Herb of the Month galantamine’s chemical structure was produced; ‘Reminyl’ was launched by Shire Pharmaceuticals and the Janssen Research Foundation for Alzheimer’s disease. Since then, other drugs based on galantamine have been developed. E. Perry and M-J. R. Howes— from Newcastle University’s Institute of Ageing, and the Jodrell Laboratory at the Royal Botanic Gardens in Kew, respectively —have noted that new sources of natural AChE inhibitors are now being discovered, such as the alkaloids found in Icelandic Club Moss (Lycopodium annotinum var. Alpestre). Their research (2011) provides an in-depth analysis of a range of medicinal plants useful for all types of dementia and associated difficulties. As the scientific world continues to catch up with the knowledge held locally by many peoples across the world, perhaps our hearts may have cause to be more hopeful in 2021. As Heinrich (2004) notes: The practice of ethnobotany and ethnopharmacy is crucial in helping to document such knowledge. References Heinrich, M. (2004) ‘Galantamine from snowdrop – the development of a modern drug against Alzheimer’s disease from local Caucasian knowledge’, in Journal of Ethnopharmacology 92: 147-62 Perry, E. & Howes, M-J. R. (2011) ‘Medicinal Plants and Dementia Therapy: Herbal Hopes for Brain Aging’, CNS Neuroscience & Therapeutics 17(6): 683-698 www.ncbi.nim.nih.gov, accessed 08.11.2020 Plataforma SINC (2010) ‘Three new alkaloids found in winter snowdrop plants’, www.sciencedaily.com/releases/2009/12/0912 20175319.htm, accessed 21.10.2020 Royal College of Physicians (2017) ‘White here, white now: the medicinal power of the dainty snowdrop’, www.rcplondon.ac.uk/news/whitehere-white-now-medicinal-power-daintysnowdrop, accessed 25.07.2020

Marissa Stoffer Late Summer Berries

iii: Our Man in the Field ….

David Hughes meets Catherine Conway-Payne Stir your reflection in the pool at the centre of the Willow wood, and you might not entirely recognise the face that stares back when the water settles. Or at least, that’s been my experience of herbology. Its tendrils creep in and, without really noticing, a perspective shift takes place, altering preconceptions and assumptions about the natural world. This is in no small part down to Catherine ConwayPayne, Head of Herbology at Royal Botanic Gardens Edinburgh. As a student, my interactions with her gave me a new appreciation for the dynamic elements at play in nature— from the subtle effects of lunar activity to the esoteric spectacle of the elementals. My timescales have lengthened— I think in seasons these days —and, true to the warnings I was given at the start of my course, a walk in the woods has never been quite the same since. So, now I’m sitting with my former tutor, chewing the fat about those places where creativity and herbology mingle, where ideas form, and where ghostly figures dance in the mist. Like many of us who have wandered from the beaten track and stumbled on the path of herbology, medicinal plants were not Catherine’s initial area of study. Her route passed through art and design, where she served a long apprenticeship, graduating from the esteemed Edinburgh College of Art having specialised in Fine Art and, in particular, Fine Art embroidery. This is all fittingly niche for such a fan of the Gothic and Romantic. As Catherine tells it: My creative energy was channelled into a formidable and diverse art school experience— it was an absolute privilege, and gave me something I could carry forward. And that creativity is now channelled into the remedy making, and the physic garden horticulture. Her tutorial influence on all who pass through the Herbology Department at RBGE is huge. She sparkles with an infectious passion for plants and the natural world that encourages

her charges to explore not only the medicinal aspects but the historical and aesthetic qualities of the subject. It’s an approach that favours the broadest possible view. And here I must admit to an act of clown-shoed buffoonery. I confess I managed to fudge the recording of a particularly elegant and pertinent passage of conversation relating to the influence of the natural world on creativity, the gaze of the artist's lens. Even so, as we parted, I was instructed by Catherine to soldier on anyway and: Write about the Glasgow school and the Celtic influence that we didn’t manage to record. So, I will. And with relish. Put the kettle on, make a cup of tea…there's a symbolic importance to it. Join me on a wee art history tangent, at Catherine’s request, to explore a Glaswegian art movement of the late 19th and early 20th centuries which sought to examine the unbroken timelines and plant symbolism of folk history from cultures across the globe, and to overlay them on our own through artefacts. These artists were known collectively as the Glasgow School, and their work imagines a Western folkloric tradition that never was, but could have been without the prevailing influence of Christianity. They gazed through a Romantic, Pre-Raphaelite lens and attempted to reignite an interest in the Celtic symbolism and mythology that had begun to vanish from the collective consciousness, or had been coopted into the more repressive, restrictive and gendered ideals of the Victorian era. The scenes depicted in their works are deeply romantic and longing— druidic processions, heavy florals, plant symbology, ghostly figures and dreamlike spaces —realised in every medium the decorative arts have to offer; paint, metal, wood, pottery, fabrics, needlepoint, glass. At its heart, the movement was a response to rapid industrialisation, mechanisation and the urban sprawl that was taking over Glasgow. It

iii: Our Man in the Field …. served as a reminder to respect the sacrosanct ancient histories of the dear green space. It should come as no surprise, then, that the most radical of these artists brought the folkloric aspects of medicinal plants to the forefront. Margaret Macdonald Macnair’s work subverts the Eve figures prevalent in traditional art. The Rose motif, so synonymous with the Glasgow style, is here steeped in feminine significance, representing the sacred badge of the priestess, Venus. But Macnair is perhaps most famous for her beaten work panels ‘The May Queen’ and ‘O Ye, All Ye, That Walk in Willowwood’. This latter was based on the four ‘Willowwood’ sonnets of Dante Gabriel Rossetti, and was created to adorn the walls of Kate Cranston’s Willow Tea Rooms in Glasgow. Willow (Salix alba)— one of the foundation stones of the northern European Materia Medica, a proper medicinal cuppa. Returning to Catherine, I ask: when you strip it all back to the bones, where’s the starting point of herbal medicine? ‘The salicin in the Willow,’ is the reply. It’s an immediate response, and one which gives an insight into the creative thinking that, according to Catherine: helps you see the beauty in the world. The natural world is a repository of resources to draw on— that enable you to find, express or engage with the beauty of the natural world. And it makes you want to help other people to notice. There are energies we can tap into. It's not just fancy or makebelieve— there are still vestiges of magic in rural locations. In certain places or at certain times of the day, time itself begins to slip and we become a bit more aware, and a bit more contemplative. That’s a very good time for creativity... I move onto asking what brought Catherine Conway-Payne, the fine artist, into the field of herbology in the first place? Well, I had left the halcyon towers of the ECA— and it was possibly the realisation that practicing as a fine art

embroiderist might not enable me to earn a crust —but I became rather ill, an affliction of unknown origin with chronic fatigue-type symptoms. I ended up at Napier’s Herbal Dispensary at Bristo Place, and while I was there— waiting to see Dee Atkinson —I saw on the table some leaflets for the College of Phytotherapy in East Sussex, where you could study herbal medicine. It almost felt naughty turning away from orthodox medicine, as my mother had been a renowned nurse, but it was a defining, lifechanging moment— a resolute calling. I won’t go into the exact scenario, but I just knew without any question or doubt that that was the path I had to follow. I experienced something I’d never experienced before, and felt that calling in my heart, and without any hesitation thought: I need this knowledge— how to heal with herbs —and to share it with others. My appointment with Dee just confirmed it, and in a couple of weeks after taking the hepatic and tonic herbs she gave me, I was better. Before this I’d been feeling unwell for literally years. I ask her to talk about the botanicals of which she is fondest, or which have inspired her most in her time at RGBE. We have our local favourites, like the Sea Buckthorn (Hippophae rhamnoides), which has become an absolute staple of the Herbology Diploma— not just because of its usefulness as a medicinal, but its abundance allows us to gather it with impunity as a teaching tool. Fear not conservationists— huge patches of Sea Buckthorn were planted along the coastlines of East Lothian as a form of natural defence from infantry invasion during the First World War, so a few herbologists welding secateurs are of little consequence.

iii: Our Man in the Field â€¦.

iii: Our Man in the Field …. We encounter these things with seasonality, and they come and go as friends… But one of the highlights specific to the Botanic Gardens— again, another privilege —is to be able to tap into the collections they have from far and distant shores, and one of the first I fell for— big time —was Dragon’s Blood, the Dracaena cinnabari, from Socotra, an island archipelago off the Republic of Yemen and the destination of an expedition led by one of the earlier Regius Keepers, Isaac Bayley Balfour. It’s so remote and so very, very removed from the rest of the world that it has these extraordinary botanicals that were really only to be found there, before they became more widely dispersed. And the Dragon’s Blood is one such, and it’s so remarkable. I just loved it. These trees that look like umbrellas, in this barren, arid landscape; these botanical forms that the local people, the Socotrans, have used in all sorts of ingenious ways… Dracaena cinnabari is the cure-all of the Socotran people, but is used most often as a stimulant. Its leaves are carminative, and its roots can be used to treat rheumatism. Historically, the resin has been used across the region to treat digestive issues and fevers. Catherine explains: When I first began here, the doors of RGBE were unbolted to me by the former Head of Education, Lee Morris, and when he realised how enthralled I was by this particular botanical, he contacted the field station, which at that time they still had out in Socotra. And the botanists, at Lee’s request, shipped out a tiny amount of Dragons Blood to me! When it arrived, I couldn't believe it— they had sent Frankincense as well, in a little locally hand-stitched pouch. But the Dragons Blood... [audible gasp of delight] ...it’s a tiny bit I have in a jar, but it’s the most precious bit of Materia Medica that I have in the Herbology room. Another

has definitely been the Gum Arabic, from a similar geographical location to Socotra. Acacia senegal— mainly found in Sudan but, again thanks to Lee Morris, having yet another shipment sent from a lovely bazaar in Oman. And there was loads of it. Bags full! It’s been wonderful to have these things finding their way into Green Pharmacy. You couldn’t be drawing them in to such an extent anywhere else. And then to go out and see them in the glasshouses…actually there! It’s really precious. In fact, I'm thinking I’d better go and rescue it— because we have to relocate from there quite soon… And with that notion, time begins to slip, and she is off…a wisp of a figure, dancing across the lawns towards the glasshouses, pausing momentarily at another of her favourite friends— the delicate Witch Hazel (Hamamelis mollis) blooming in midwinter, and so good for the heart.

The Grand Winter Raffle

Congratulations to all the prize winners in our

Grand Winter Raffle And a huge

Thank You to all our generous contributors and to everyone who bought tickets. We are now able to purchase our first annual digital publishing subscription and we trust youâ€™ll see the benefits in our 2021 issues.

iv: Of Weeds and Weans

Children and Holidays in the Time of Corona Joseph Nolan In the festive season, emotions run high— for children and their adults. Disruptions to routine, general excitement, the prospect of presents, sleep disturbances, unaccustomed food, and extra sugar, all make it a sort of stress grab-bag. This year, of course, it is all changed, and even the holiday routine is different. So how can you support your wee people and make it all run more smoothly for everyone? Let’s break it down. Overexcitement One day in clinic, a young lad with crippling anxiety explained to me that he couldn’t tell anxiety from excitement because they felt the same, and he didn’t like it. How interesting. And how true. With overexcited children, you get laughing giddiness, jumping and running, ill temper, meltdowns, and uncharacteristic selfishness, amongst other things. Their little nervous systems are in overdrive, which is fun for a while— cue infuriating giggling —but when the initial burst of novelty wears off it becomes frightening— cue ill temper. The associated anger and selfishness are a result of the sympathetic nervous system’s fight or flight response. In nature, this response is triggered by a threat, and for survival we respond to it by protecting ourselves— with aggression, with fighting, with ‘selfishness’. When the sympathetic nervous system perceives a threat, the organism deduces there must be one. We unconsciously look for the threat, and finding only cousin Susie using our markers, we decide that she must be it, and if only Susie would give

back purple, the bad feeling would go away and all would be right with the world. So how to help? Number one, of course, is turning down the stimulation volume— playing outside, going for a walk, putting on a familiar film, doing quiet creative stuff like colouring, drawing, or origami, the usual things. Stimulants like sugar and chocolate, and food additives like artificial colourings, exacerbate the stress response in everyone, and children are more sensitive to these substances than adults. So, children go up quicker and higher, coming down slower and crashing harder than adults do. Secondly, of course, you give herbs. Anxiety Sometimes, along with excitement, the discombobulation of holidays can bring anxiety. At the best of times, anxiety is common in children because being a child is stressful. But this is not the best of times. Restrictions on school, sports and activities, seeing family and friends, restaurants, cinemas, etc., have dragged on for months, affecting every conceivable event. And there is a killer virus about. It is nigh impossible for anyone to be unaffected by the atmosphere. Among my patients, anxiety is practically galloping. In children, anxiety may present many ways. Usually confident and settled children may become shy, refuse to go out, suffer from separation anxiety, or worry excessively. They may be unusually sensitive to noise or bright lights, turning the volume down and watching

iv: Of Weeds and Weans TV wearing sunglasses. Trivial incidents like small spills or dropping things can be disproportionately upsetting. Accidents may happen, and bedwetting can suddenly appear briefly, even in middle childhood. Sensitive children may fret about fulfilling other people’s expectations. And naturally reserved youngsters may find extra attention distressing. So, what to do? Like overexcitement, anxiety is a fight or flight response. Have patience. The child is only responding unconsciously to a stressful situation. Give extra cuddles, extra support, and extra space to breathe. It is easy to underestimate the impact of stimulants on children; minimising sugar, chocolate, artificial colours and flavours, coffee and tea, can be quite helpful. On an enormous piece of pink Edinburgh Rock, I once read, ‘may have adverse effect on activity in children.’ You better believe it. Sleep Disturbance Sleep problems include not wanting to go to bed, fears, early waking, waking in the night, bad dreams, and sleeplessness. Excitement and anxiety are certainly factors at holiday time, but in more prosaic seasons, you might get further looking at diet, lifestyle, and sleep hygiene. So, what to do? When I see children with sleep issues, the following is standard advice:  Avoid screens (including TV) for two hours before bed  Use low lights in the evening  Establish a solid evening routine  Observe a regular and ageappropriate bedtime  Avoid sugar and other stimulants, especially after lunchtime  Engage in quiet evening activities— reading, puzzles, colouring, knitting, paper crafts, hobbies  Exercise early in the day  Get sunlight on the skin, preferably early in the day.  Darken the bedroom— minimize nightlights; eliminate light from toys, electronics, other rooms, windows  Take herbs

Holiday (and Everyday!) Herbal Helpers For children’s emotional upsets, think Matricaria recutita (Chamomile). The herb is sweet and gently bitter, relaxing to the muscles and mind, with a delightful affinity for children. Chamomile reduces anxiety, soothes and comforts. A red-faced, overwrought child— whether shouting, crying, or giggling —is a Chamomile child. Use it as needed for overexcitement and difficult moments— like Peter Rabbit after Mr. McGregor’s garden — and regularly for anxiety. Physically, Chamomile is an efficacious anti-spasmodic, great for physical tension or exhaustion, and digestive upset with stress or anxiety. In the words of Henriette Kress, Chamomile gives Mama’s hugs when Mama’s not around. Use in teas and baths, tincture, glycerite, and aromatic water. For ongoing anxiety, Glycyrrhiza glabra (Liquorice) gives much needed support to the adrenal glands. It is sweet, moistening, and anti-inflammatory, and helps to reduce cravings for sugar— which is especially useful during the holidays. The sweet flavour also helps take the curse off less tasty herbs; I always add some Liquorice to bitter nervines. For atopic children whose symptoms are worsened by stress and excitement, Liquorice is an excellent remedy. Use it with Chamomile for constipation from stress and anxiety. Use it as tea, tincture, or glycerite. Anytime there is heartache, go for Rosa damascena (Rose). Give it for self-confidence, shyness, separation anxiety, disappointment, and to lift the spirits after a bout of selfishness. Rose is astringent, anti-inflammatory, soothing, and practically perfect in every way. For the emotional heart, there is no better remedy. It works well with Chamomile for anxiety and sadness, and to calm overheated emotions. Rose eases the angry, frightened aspects of the fight or flight response, and generally makes one well disposed towards others. It calms inflammation, and the astringency improves inflammatory conditions, like eczema, that worsen with stress and excitement. The astringency of Rose tea works well with Chamomile for anxious diarrhoea, and

iv: Of Weeds and Weans Liquorice is helpful in the tea if there is gut irritation. If Chamomile relieves anxiety, Rose is for sadness— and together they are perfect for separation anxiety, the confusion of starting nursery and being with strangers, disappointments in sporting events, or when mean things have been said at school. Knocked confidence and a faltering sense of self-worth respond beautifully to Rose. Use it in tea, tincture, glycerite, and— my favourite — aromatic water. Passiflora incarnata (Passionflower) is named not for romantic love, but for the passion of uncontrollable emotion. As the name suggests, it cools an overheated mind, calming, bringing a measure of serenity. In my experience, it works best with children. Passiflora is very gentle and subtle in action; adults need more of a sledgehammer approach. The herb gently calms an over-active central nervous system, and can help with sleep. Use it to lull overexcited and anxious children. Passionflower works very well with Liquorice and Chamomile for anxiety and stress. Use it in tea and tincture. One of my favourite herbs for anxiety is Scutellaria laterifolia (Skullcap). I use a lot of it with my patients as it’s a reliable herb for calming nervous fretful anxiety. Use it at the tail end of the sympathetic response, when anger and aggression set in. Skullcap is bitter, so it helps the liver to clear accumulated stress hormones, and aids digestion. In fight or flight, blood is sent to skeletal muscles and the vital organs, facilitating either a hasty departure or a donnybrook. Blood is therefore diverted away from non-essential processes like digestion. This means food is digested more slowly, with a greater tendency to ferment, leading to wind and constipation. For anxious, windy children, Skullcap is a great remedy. Try it for children constipated by stress, travel, or changed routine. And Skullcap works just as well on adults as it does children… Combine Skullcap with Liquorice and Chamomile for stress and anxiety with digestive problems, with Passionflower for calming the mind, and with Rose for fretful moods. Use in tea or tincture.

As a sleep remedy, Lactuca virosa (Wild Lettuce) is effective enough for adults, and gentle enough for children; I use a lot of it with my patients. Choose Wild Lettuce for difficulty falling asleep because of a busy mind— too busy playing, too excited, too curious. Anxiety can be an indication too, when fretting and fears are keeping a child awake. Wakefulness due to late evening screen use can also be ameliorated with Wild Lettuce. The herb is cooling and mildly sedating. Its bitterness gently stimulates the liver, clearing stress hormones and allowing a person to relax. Use Wild Lettuce in tincture and tea. It mixes well with Passionflower, Skullcap, and Chamomile for sleeplessness due to anxiety, fears, or overexcitement. And, of course, you can’t go wrong with a bit of Rose. Here’s one final festive home remedy for poor sleep and emotional discombobulation: herb pillows. Making herb pillows is easy and great to do with children. They can be very effective sleep aids, and make lovely gifts. Bring them on trips (whenever we might make them again!) to help little travellers settle more easily in new places. To Make Herb Pillows  Choose your desired fabric and cut out two identical shapes for the two sides. If you’re not crafty, start with rectangles or squares. Moons, stars, and triangles work well too.  Pin the two halves and sew them together, leaving a small gap to insert the filling. Turn the work inside out.  Fill with herbs. Popular choices include Chamomile and Rose, Lavandula angustifolia (Lavender), Lippia citriodora (Lemon Verbena), Mellissa officinalis (Lemonbalm), Artemisia vulgaris (Mugwort), Elletaria cardomomum (Cardamom), and Citrus aurantium/C. sinensis (Orange Peel).  Once filled, sew up completely and tie off.  Keep on the bed as a fragrant sleep aid. Happy Herbing!

iv: Plant Medicine and Social Justice

What Tonic for the Ailing Heart of Community Healthcare? Grass Roots Remedies Co-operative Deep winter: typically, a time when people come together to celebrate. Some festivities are steeped in centuries-long, homely traditions; others are of more recent origin, shinier, less diverse, with more packaging. Whatever the activity, it will be dearly loved by some but dreaded by others. The Christmas season has always been a time that shines a light on the deep inequalities in our society— this year more than most. Nine months of living with the social and economic limitations of Covid-19, sprinkled on already divisive government policies— Hostile Environment, Universal Credit —and more than a decade of deep cuts and austerity, have spelled disaster for a huge number of people. Recently published research by the Joseph Rowntree Foundation reveals that 2.4 million people in the UK experienced destitution in 2019— a 54% increase since 2017. And destitution is not a word the researchers use lightly. Referencing the Joseph Rowntree Foundation report, Small (2020) uses it to describe those who: have lacked two or more of the following six essential items over the past month, because they cannot afford them:



shelter (they have slept rough for one or more nights)



food (they have had fewer than two meals a day for two or more days)



heating their home (they have been unable to heat their home for five or more days)



Or: (b) Their income is so extremely low that they are unable to purchase these essentials for themselves. And remember, these are 2019 figures, dating from before Covid-19 graced us with its presence. This week, the Legatum Institute thinktank reported that the Covid-19 crisis has plunged a further 700,000 people into poverty. They estimate that this figure would have risen to 1.4 million people without the government increasing Universal Credit by £20 a week. But this financial Covid response, which anyway didn’t go far enough to provide the 700,000 with a lifeline, will be coming to an end in the spring.

lighting their home (they have been unable to light their home for five or more days)



clothing and footwear (appropriate for the weather)



basic toiletries (such as soap, shampoo, toothpaste and a toothbrush).

iv: Plant Medicine and Social Justice

iv: Plant Medicine and Social Justice Where I live and work, in North Edinburgh, the axe of health and social care cuts had already repeatedly fallen on community health services (North Edinburgh News, 2018). Many local people were left without essential support long before the Coronavirus crisis began. There’s a hideous irony in the fact that it is community health services that have to work tirelessly to take the burden off the failing state, even though so often it is the burden of the state itself which causes people to crumble. At the age of 34, I have now been watching this situation worsen for my entire adult life. Reflecting on this year makes me ask myself once again: what could our society look like if there was genuine desire and political will to create strong, healthy, resilient communities? What if our culture didn’t define health by mere absence of disease, or simply by certain narrow parameters of height and weight? Our current culture tells us that no matter what is happening in our lives— how traumatized we are, how sick we are, how disabled we are, how marginalized we are —our worth can only be measured by our productivity and our consumption. I dream of another story. What if we all could access fresh, healthy food to eat, and had the skills and enough energy and fuel to prepare it? What if we had community-run spaces where we could share food with friends and neighbours and feel part of something bigger than ourselves? What if we had greenspaces to run and play and be still in, where the trees hadn’t all been cut down, or ‘relocated’? What if our pain could be witnessed and heard by others who cared about us, and we knew where to turn to when times grew hard? What if asking for help wasn’t so laden with shame and vulnerability, and we knew it would be met with genuine solidarity? What if, when we needed a break, there was genuine respite available? What if those who chose to spend time looking after and supporting others in their family, community or work were valued in the same way as those in the financial services, or celebrity culture?

One thing Covid-19 has shown us is that where the political will exists, enormous resources can be mobilized in the name of public health. Why, though, is the harm of the chronic illhealth and low life expectancy resulting from austerity and poverty so easily dismissed as ‘just part of everyday society’, acceptable collateral damage in the functioning of neoliberal policies? Surely trickle-down economics ain’t working, when the numbers of people waiting to lick up a drop from that trickle just keep increasing? Between 2010 and 2017, there were an estimated 120,000 excess deaths, in England alone, as a result of cuts to health and social care services (Watkins et al, 2017). I don’t seek to suggest that we shouldn’t be prioritizing the response to Covid-19. Far from it. Rather, I question why an infectious disease like Covid-19 is considered worthy of serious investment, yet chronic ill-health and the effects of social and economic factors on mortality (which undoubtedly cost the NHS far more than infectious disease) are not. And this argument only considers how we are responding to these crises; we aren’t even entertaining the idea of preventing them. Where do herbalists fit into this picture? What tonic can we provide for the ailing hearts of our communities? In the Grass Roots Remedies Coop, our view is that the beauty and power of herbal medicine is that it is holistic. Sure, we form deep relationships with plants and call on them as our healing allies, but unless we are taking a holistic, ecological and integrated view of plants, humans and society, we are really just practicing allopathic medicine using plant chemistry as our tool. In my view, one failing of some teachers of herbal medicine is a narrow understanding of holism as the unique mind, spirit, body and emotions of each individual person. Yet how could we, for a single second, separate any individual person from their wider social, environmental and political context— each of which has a huge bearing on their health? If we have a truly holistic understanding

iv: Plant Medicine and Social Justice

of health, and recognize that the largest determinant of age of mortality remains socioeconomic status, then we herbalists can’t ignore this huge crisis, nor be complicit in widening the gulf between the destitute and the well-off. John Harris, of the Guardian, writing of the estrangement within our society in the aftermath of the Brexit referendum and nine months into Covid-19 crisis, observes: it centres on the differences between parts of the population who live difficult and precarious lives, and a section of the middle class that is both comfortably off and self-consciously ‘progressive’. For the latter, the Covid crisis and its restrictions are still too often equated with banana bread, Zoom calls and the pleasures of working from home. Among the former, Covid often seems like what one passerby in Walsall called ‘a living hell’ (Harris, 2020). It’s an overwhelming picture, and I certainly don’t have the ken or the hubris to claim to know how we heal these society-wide hurts. We respond as best we can, and try to balance the feelings of grief, anger, rage and helplessness with useful, effective action. How we do this the nub of a conversation we have frequently within our Co-op. At the moment, our collective action is centred on providing low-cost community clinics, growing herbs and teaching people how to turn them into simple remedies to make at home. We’re also running a Covid-19-specific ‘Herbal Response’ project— giving out hundreds of free herbal

remedies to people living in areas of deprivation, to those feeling the effects of this crisis most acutely. These are overt, measurable actions, but underneath them are the immeasurable moments of stillness and listening, of hearing people’s stories, of gentleness and pausing, of creating spaces for people to feel heard and valued, of brave moments where our hearts can genuinely open— even just a little —to another person. This feels all the more valuable in these days, when we are no longer allowed to hold others in our arms. The medicines I prescribe most often are those amazing herbs we usually call nervines— but could just as easily be called heart tonics, if gazed upon differently —and I’d like to end with a little celebration of, and nod to, two remedies for softening the heart— one a flower remedy, the other a favourite herb —which feel like important allies in this time of considerable uncertainty. The first of these is Ulex europeaus (Gorse). Gorse Flower Remedy is indicated for despair and hopelessness, and it’s no surprise that Edward Bach would have seen it so. All of us in Scotland have no doubt had the experience of being cheered right to the soles of our boots by the luminous shine of the Gorse on the crest of a bleak moor. Gorse essence is a remedy for uncertainty and loss of faith, for a conviction that things cannot and will not get better. Sometimes, it feels safer to give up hope altogether than to edge towards or lean into the vulnerability of believing change possible, with the potential of being hurt again. Flower Remedies are gentle enough not to push a person beyond the boundaries of what feels safe to them.

iv: Plant Medicine and Social Justice

The second ally is Rosa spp. (Rose). Elegant, delicate, fragile, scraggly, thorny, taking up space, and ‘with an unkempt habit’, Roses manage to beautifully combine a badass attitude with softness and sensuality. They seem an appropriate emblem for opening one’s heart to giving and receiving love, to embracing some of that softness and delicacy while maintaining self-protection and boundaries. A cross-cultural symbol of love and the heart, any species of Rose can be used as medicine, though I mostly use Rosa x damascena (the Damask Rose), Rosa gallica (Gallic Rose) and Rosa canina (Wild Rose or Dog Rose). To me, giving someone Rose as a medicine feels like giving them a hug— and isn’t that what we all need in these affectionlite, socially-distanced times?

Images: Grass Roots Remedies Co-operative References: Harris, J. (2020) ‘The Covid vaccines bring hope, but in many parts of the UK this crisis will last’ [online] https://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/ 2020/dec/06/covid-vaccines-hope-uk-crisispandemic-financial-hardship, accessed 9th December 2020 North Edinburgh News (2018) ‘Health & Social Care Grants: Where the Axe will Fall’ [online] https://nen.press/2018/12/14/health-andsocial-care-grants-where-the-axe-will-fall, accessed 9th December 2020 Small, M. (2020) ‘Destitute Britain’ [online] https://bellacaledonia.org.uk/2020/12/09/dest itute-britain/, accessed 9th December 2020 Watkins, J.; Wulaningsih, W.; Da Zhou, C., et al (2017) ‘Effects of health and social care spending constraints on mortality in England: a time trend analysis’ British Medical Journal Open :7

Marissa Stoffer Black Cactus and the Corpse Bud

v: Nature Therapy

Bringing Nature Indoors Nathalie Moriarty Since time immemorial, we have been adorning our homes with plants during the festive season. When many of our deciduous trees have lost their leaves, bringing greenery into the home can brighten up our surroundings. Not only that, living green foliage can provide us with fresh oxygen and help capture dust particles and toxic chemicals within our homes, as well as emitting some moisture into the air we breathe. This can keep our airways moist, helping us fight off coughs and sore throats. The plants we traditionally bring into our homes have become strongly associated with the Christmas festival— for many this will be a tree, such as a spiky Norway Spruce (Picea abies). Other plants we associate with Christmas are Holly (Ilex aquifolium), Mistletoe (Viscum album), Ivy (Hedera helix), Pine (Pinus spp.), Yew (Taxus baccata) and Poinsettia (Euphorbia pulcherrima). The tradition of decorating our homes with native plants has a long history and is deeply rooted in preChristian beliefs. In many cases, the original purpose of the practice has been lost. What we definitely do know is that our most prominent winter evergreens were associated with natural spirits and the Gods and Goddesses of preChristian beliefs. In Forest Bathing, the concept of bringing living plants into our homes is recommended as a way to connect with nature indoors. As Forest Bathing is originally a Japanese practice, it ties in with many other Japanese practices in which the spiritualism of nature features heavily. These include the art of Bonsai, and of Ikebana— a slow, meditative practice in which the spirits of the flowers being arranged need to be carefully considered. Such practices bring the spirit and nature of the outdoors indoors, dissolving the lines that distinguish the two. Japanese culture is heavily informed by Zen Buddhism, whose scriptures are written into natural landscapes (Li, 2019). In the Shinto religion, Kami spirits can be found in all the

elements of nature— from trees to rocks, and wind to water. As a result, nature is widely revered. Despite Japan’s densely populated cities, it is a highly forested country. Sixty-eight percent of its land is covered by trees, placing it on a par with Sweden and Finland (FAO, 2020). Its landmass also crosses multiple climatic zones— from the subtropical south, to the subarctic north, via the forested mountain ranges of its centre. This diversity contributes to Japan’s status as one of the world’s biogeographic hotspots, with a high range of endemic species in both flora (>3000 endemic) and fauna (~150 endemic) (Critical Ecosystem Partnership Fund, 2020). Trees, particularly conifers, are significant to Forest Bathing. Whilst they provide the setting for forest walks, the phytoncides they release have a measurable effect on our immune system (Li, 2019). These can be captured in essential oils and dispersed into our homes using steam or reed diffusers. Research conducted at the Nippon Medical School (Li et al, 2009) revealed that inhaling phytonicides from the Hinoki Cypress (Chamaecyparis obtusa) increased the number of killer cells present in blood. The study showed that participants sleeping in a hotel room where Hinoki essential oil was diffused had a significantly higher number of killer cells in their bloodstreams, compared to a control group exposed to an unscented diffuser. Unfortunately, pure Hinoki Cypress tree oil can be incredibly expensive. But we do know that coniferous trees have a higher number of phytoncides than deciduous trees, so using a cheaper and more readily available essential oil— such as Pine —may have similar effects. Li (2019) recommends essential oil blends that contain Cypress (Cupressus semervirens), Cedarwood (Cedrus spp.), Eucalyptus (Eucalyptus spp.) and Pine, as well as Hinoki where it is available. The plants in our home mostly absorb carbon dioxide and produce oxygen, but at night they

v: Nature Therapy perform the reverse, taking in oxygen and putting out carbon dioxide. If we want plants that produce oxygen throughout, it pays to consider which species we invite into our homes, and to have a balance of both types of plants. Orchids and succulents are known to produce oxygen at night, but plants with larger leaves capture more dust and toxic chemicals (volatile organic compounds such as formaldehyde and benzene) from coatings on furnishings, cleaning products, wallpaper glue, and paint, as well as from the street pollution that reaches inside our homes. NASA publish a list of the best air purifying plants, which cites Bamboo Palm (Chamaedorea seifrizii), Chrysanthemum (Chrysanthemum morifolium), Ivy, Gerbera Daisy (Gerbera jamesoni), Goldon Pothos (Epipremnum aureum), Mother-in-Law’s Tongue (Sansevieria trifasciata ‘Laurentii’), Peace Lily (Spathiphyllum spp.), Red-edge Dracaena (Dracaena marginata) and Spider Plants (Chlorophytum comosum) (Wolverton et al, 1989). Collecting green foliage to decorate our homes is a lovely seasonal activity. I’m sure many of us herbologists do this regularly, and it’s a wonderful way to get out and enjoy a winter walk during these darker days. Taking the time to arrange our finds into beautifully homemade decorations can be meditative and relaxing, as well as bringing festive cheer into our homes. It’s something that can be enjoyed at any age, and needn’t be limited only to Christmas time. With that, I wish wonderful winter festive cheer to you all, and a positive new year’s outlook surrounded by the health-giving plants of your home.

Images: Nathalie Moriarty References and Further Reading Critical Ecosystem Partnership Fund (2020) ‘Japan –Species’. Published online at www.cepf.net/our-work/biodiversityhotspots/japan/species. Accessed 12.12.20 Food and Agriculture Organization of the United Nations (2020) ‘Forest Cover by Country’. Published online at www.OurWorldInData.org. Accessed 12.12.20 Learn Religions (2020) ‘Sacred Plants of the Winter Solstice’. Published online at www.learnreligions.com. Accessed 12.12.20 Li, Q. et al. (2009) ‘Effect of phytoncide from trees on human natural killer cell function’, in International Journal of Immunopathology and Pharmacology, 22(4):951-9 Li, Q. (2019) Into the Forest. Penguin Life: UK Wolverton, B. C., et al. (1989) ‘A study of interior landscape plants for indoor air pollution abatement: an interim report’. NASA. Available at ntrs.nasa.gov/citations/19930073077. Accessed 12.12.20

v: Anthroposophical Views

With the Rhythm of the Heart Dora Wagner Keep your heart warm, this is the only way not to be alienated from each other, even if opinions differ. Ita Wegmann (1925) The heart is so much more than a pump. It is a complex, sensory organ that constantly monitors the pressure in the heart cavities and chemical changes in the blood. The heart has receptors for many neurotransmitters and hormones, such as oxytocin, and can even produce oxytocin itself (Reiss et al., 2019). This hormone triggers our first heartbeat, on the 22nd day after we are conceived. It is understood that heart attacks are less serious when hearts have previously been treated to this love hormone (ibid.) So, it seems the biology of love doesn’t only take place in the brain. Indeed, with its 40,000 nerve cells (Bavastro et al, 1999; Claussen et al, 2006), the heart can sometimes make decisions that are quite different from those our brain would prefer. Most of us have some experience of this. Although many Ancient Greek philosophers determined the brain was responsible for perception, thought and sensation, to the great Aristotle the truth was clear: The soul is in the heart. (Theodore, 1974) In all great cultures— from the Stone Age to the present day —in all religions and spiritual schools, the heart is considered, both symbolically and biologically, the centre of love, compassion, joy, courage, strength, truth, warmth and wisdom. A healthy, pulsating heart is the symbol of love and vitality par excellence— which is why we should protect it from harmful influences. We should be gentle with it and pay attention to its needs, because our inner experience of the individual qualities of our hearts is what makes us human. Many Weleda medicines carry the suffix ‘doron’ in their names. This convention dates back to the beginnings of anthroposophical medicine and emphasises the special character which

makes these remedies unique. The term comes from Greek and means ‘donation’. In this respect, these medicines can be understood as gifts to health. Rudolf Steiner’s anthroposophical gift to the heart is called Cardiodoron. To understand this anthroposophical remedy, conventional knowledge about the effect of a medicinal plant and its ingredients is not sufficient, nor is the conventional medical view of the heart and circulatory disorders. In orthodox medicine, plants are used to change, eliminate or combat the symptoms of processes that are supposedly going wrong. Pharmaceuticals, therefore, usually have the prefix ‘anti’ (antiarrhythmics, antihypertensives and antihypotensives). That is why, in modern medicine, indications for heart complaints are associated with quite different therapeutic treatments— namely those that are more or less described by plants containing glycosides. Thus, even with a good knowledge of medicinal plants and their effects, you may find it difficult to understand why the flowers of Cowslips (Primula veris), Scottish Thistles (Onopordum acanthium) and Black Henbane (Hyoscyamus niger) are believed to have beneficial effects on the heart. They are not used in this way anywhere in the world. In anthroposophical medicine, to create a heart medication the task is to find those natural processes or gestures of plants, or combinations of plants, that correspond to the human central cardiovascular function. For example, the heart accomplishes its great task of beating from the 22nd day after conception until the end of life, through rhythm, through a principle of alternation of tension and relaxation.

v: Anthroposophical Views

The better both polarities are expressed, the better the heart feels. It is the same with everything: inhalation and exhalation; concentration and relaxation; lessons and breaks; day and night; summer and winter... Cardiodoron contains extracts from the flowers of Primula veris, the yellow corolla of which is said to have antispasmodic and sedative effects and is normally recommended for treating over-activity and sleeplessness, especially in children. The second component is an extract from the flowers of Onopordum acanthium. 1% Hyoscyamus niger essence is added to the flowers during their separate extraction processes, before the two compounds are blended. From the anthroposophical point of view, this medicine combines the enormous vitality of the Scottish Thistle, the characteristic annual cycle of Cowslips, and the distinct rhythm and toxicity of Black Henbane. Merely the flowering is taken from both Scottish Thistle and Cowslip,

whilst the small addition of the poisonousâ€” and therefore highly diluted â€”essence of Black Henbane directly stimulates the respiratory rhythmic system. According to the conviction that the essential idea of a plant is passed on through appropriate preparation of a remedy, the flowers of Cowslip and Scottish Thistle are extracted in digestio (Latin for digestion). The digestio-process is a pharmaceuticalalchemical procedure in which, by leaving a preparation to stand for days or weeks at 37 degrees Celsius, a slow transformation catalysed by enzymes and thorough permeation of the original materials is achieved. Thus, this whole proprietary heart medication regulates the rhythmic function of the heart by combining the polarity of two very different plants and adding a mediating one. So, the remedy strengthens the ability of the heart to respond to the polar demands of nerves/senses and metabolism, rest and movement, lying down and standingâ€” and adds a compensatory and balancing response.

v: Anthroposophical Views almost endlessly and rolled into gauzy thin layers, but at the same time it is very dense and twice as heavy as lead. This quality resembles the heart’s ability to create a balance between concentration and expansion. So that a weakened heart is able to shine again, diluted gold is added to a second preparation— Cardiodoron /Aurum comp — and also to an ointment for external application in the heart area— Lavendula/Aurum compositum.

The table on these pages details the polarities of Primula veris and Onopordum acanthium, and how Hyoscyamus niger— always mediating —lies in the middle between them. Many years of research (summarised in Weckenmann, 1986) have demonstrated the positive, regulating effects of Cardiodoron by means of a slight reduction in the pulse/breath ratio. Studies of long-term use, and a survey of practitioners (ibid.) have also proven its efficacy on slight cardiac arrhythmias and heart failure, especially failures of the tachycardiac cycle. In long term use, Cardiodoron helps to counteract one-sided deformations of heart rhythm, and contributes to a general stabilisation of the psycho-physical interaction. Within the human organism, the heart is seen as the centre, the pivot of life, the keystone of all physical and spiritual being. In macrocosm, the heart corresponds to the sun and so to the planetary metal gold, which is also associated with love and warmth. The sun is the only object in our planetary system that emits light from within itself. It symbolises the primordial divine spark, its light and warmth bringing life to all creation. To humans from time immemorial, gold has appeared as a light brought down from the sun, so this shining, relatively soft precious metal has been attributed the highest value in almost all cultures. Shiny, precious gold can be stretched

Back in our medicinal herb garden, we have created a bed of beneficial plants for the heart. Right now, our little ‘Bed for the Heart’ contains the last seed-stems of Cowslips (Primula veris), a still shining red Midday Flower (Gazania rigens), withering Lavender (Lavandula angustifolia), autumnally coloured Motherwort (Leonurus cardiaca), Marjoram (Origanum majorana) and Lemon Balm (Melissa officinalis) and, of course, little Scottish Thistle babies (Onopordum acanthium), which we sowed in late spring. Due to its toxicity, there is no Black Henbane (Hyoscyamus niger), but also no Damask Rose (Rosa x Damascena) so far, though we will plant it next spring. I love the Scottish Thistle the most— this biennial plant which, after forming little rosettes in the first year, throws up such impressive flowering shoots, with so many sideshoots, the following year. Curiously, while the upper and outer bloom at the base is alive and still green and the flowers still appear beautifully purple, the plant has already died in the root and lower stem area. This shows how the Scottish Thistle extends its enormous vitality right into the flower area and emphasises its power in the flower bases. Observing this expression of life in Onopordum acanthium, it seems obvious to me that an extract from its flowers should touch and stimulate a human heart. With the warmth of my heart, I wish you a peaceful and blessed Christmas, a magnificent Hogmanay and the most wonderful New Year. I have adapted Dougal McLean's (1978) lyrics to our present circumstances:

v: Anthroposophical Views I don't know if you can see, the changes that have come over me, Oh, but let me tell you that I love you, that I think about you all the time, Although Caledonia is calling me, I prefer to stay home. Images: Dora Wagner References Bavastro, P. and Kümell, H. C. (Hrsg.) (1999) Das Herz des Menschen, Verlag Freies Geistesleben Stuttgart. Claussen, C.D.; Fenchel, M.; Miller, S.; Herz; (2006) Thieme Verlag, Stuttgart. McLean, D. (1978) ‘Caledonia’, song lyrics. Performance available on Youtube, accessed 13.12.20 Reiss, A.B.; Glass, D.S.; Lam, E.; Glass, A. D.; De Leon, J.; Kasselman, L. J. (2019) ‚Oxytocin: Potential to mitigate cardiovascular disease‘, in Journal of Peptides, 117:170089. Available online at National Library of Medicine; PubMed; EPub 2019 May 18. Accessed 13.12.20

Theodore, T.S.J. (1974) ‘Heart and Soul in Aristotle’, in The Society for Ancient Greek Philosophy Newsletter. 90. Weckenmann, M. (1986) ‘Die Anwendung von Cardiodoron in der Praxis und die dabei beobachteten Wirkungen‘ (‘The use of Cardiodoron in practice and the observed effects‘), in Ergebnisse einer Umfrage; Endgültige Mitteilung. Beiträge zu einer Erweiterung der Heilkunst nach geisteswissenschaftlichen Erkenntnissen; 39(6):245-253. Wegmann, I. (1925) in Steiner, R. and Wegmann, I. ‚Grundlegendes zur Erweiterung der Heilkunst; Nach geisteswissenschaftlichen Erkenntnissen‘, available at http://anthroposophie.byu.edu/schriften/027. pdf. Translated from the original German: “Halte dein Herz warm, dies ist das einzige Mittel, um sich nicht von einander zu entfremden, auch wenn die Meinungen auseinander gehen“, at https://www.iwsbenefield.de/schule/unsere-schule/itawegmann/ accessed 13.12.20

v: Flower Remedies

‘Tis the Season to be Careful Anne Dalziel Our expectations of the festive season, and its reality sometimes don't quite match. That’s true of most years, but never more so than 2020. The granting of a five-day dispensation to spend time together has, perhaps, added even more anxiety and stress than normal. Many people have been looking miserable and worried, not joyful at all. Whilst one old adage advises us to ‘eat the elephant a bit at a time’, we simply consider taking the Bach Flower remedy Elm (Ulmus procera)— for that feeling of having just a little too much on your plate. The frontline workers of this pandemic might consider using this remedy. If you know any, do recommend it. Elm can restore equilibrium, when someone is struggling to cope with it all, and all the Bach Flower remedies are gentle and non-toxic, so can be used by everyone, including children and the elderly. A flower remedy very much related to the heart is Star of Bethlehem (Ornithogalum umbellatum). From the small white flower named after the Christmas star, it can help with feelings of loss. It can be supportive to those who, for example, feel sad because they have lost someone, or because they have lost their normal way of life.

Grief can sometimes feel like putting your heart in a glass bottle and corking it until such time as you can deal with it. By then, the protective layers which have built up have to be peeled away, layer by layer, to release the underlying feelings. This remedy can help with the process. Star of Bethlehem is one of the five remedies included in the ‘crisis combination’, suitable, as Dr. Bach notes in ‘The Twelve Healers and Other Remedies’: For those in great distress under conditions which for a time produce great unhappiness. The shock of serious news, the loss of some one dear, the fright following an accident, and such like. For those who for a time refuse to be consoled this remedy brings comfort. Bach Flower remedies can also be very supportive when daylight is in short supply, and the weather is horrible. For those experiencing seasonal low mood disorders, Gorse (Ulex europaeus) can offer a ray of light. Bach described it as suitable for people who ‘look as if they needed sunshine in their lives to drive the clouds away’.

v: Flower Remedies

Walnut (Juglans regia) can offer protection from outside influences and energies, and help us adjust to major changes. Holly (Ilex aquifolium) helps us overcome the feelings of hate, envy and jealousy that come when we think everyone is enjoying themselves except us, or we grow angry at those we think have been reckless, or responsible for the chaos and loss of life we’ve seen this year. Centaury (Centaurium umbellatum) supports those who have a hard time saying ‘no’ and are easily imposed upon by family or friends inviting themselves to dinner, despite your wishes and the restrictions. Agrimony (Agrimony eupatoria) may help us communicate our real feelings and worries— particularly those cheerful, humorous types who get distressed by argument or quarrel, and often hide their feelings behind a cheerful face, and tend to use alcohol in excess to stimulate. Loneliness can be overwhelming at any time, but particularly at this time of year. Bach devoted a group of three of his 38 Bach Flower remedies to treating the feeling of loneliness. All the flower remedies in this group can help you reconnect with people. Heather (Calluna vulgaris) is supportive when you don’t like being alone for any length of time, and you

need to be with others, but your neediness can drive them away. Water Violet (Hottonia palustris) serves the private person, who keeps their troubles to themself but is prone to feel loneliness. This remedy restores balance and helps bring them back into the human race. Impatiens (Impatiens glandulifera) is for those so quick of thought and action that they do things themselves because everyone else is too slow. Here the remedy gives relief from the stress of impatience, helping the person reach out to others. Researchers (e.g. Courtin and Knapp, 2017) have found mounting evidence linking loneliness to physical illness and to functional and cognitive decline. As a predictor of early death, loneliness eclipses obesity (HoltLunstad et al, 2015). This has become apparent especially in relation to those living in care, or who are separated from their loved ones by continual lockdowns. Their relatives also have an enormous burden to bear in enforced separation from their vulnerable, elderly relatives. These circumstances can provoke feelings of guilt, hopelessness and fear. Pine (Pinus sylvestris) is the remedy related to guilt and self-reproach, and Gorse can bring hope back to those in complete despair. For those—

v: Flower Remedies

particularly carers, nurses and emergency workers— who have a selfless over-concern and fear for the welfare of others, Red Chestnut (Aesculus carnia) is recommended. In Scotland, Hogmanay is when we celebrate the passing of the old year and look forward to the new. Recent news of vaccinations to quell the worst effects of the virus has given hope to everyone. Life might slowly return to a version of normal. Hugging those close to us is something we will never take for granted again. As Bach says, Life does not demand of us unthinkable sacrifice; it asks us to travel its journey with joy in our heart and to be a blessing to those around, so that if we leave the world just that trifle better for our visit, then we have done our work. Images: The Bach centre References Courtin, E., and Knapp, M. (2017) ‘Social isolation, loneliness and health in old age: a scoping review’, in Health & Social Care in the Community, 25(3):799-812. Holt-Lunstad, J.; Smith, T.B; Baker, M.; Harris, T. & Stephenson, D. (2015) ‘Loneliness and social isolation as risk factors for mortality: a meta-analytic review’, in Perspectives on Psychological Science, 10(2):227-37.

Marissa Stoffer Lake Pigments

vi: The Chemistry Column

Testing, testing, 1,2,3… Dr Audrey Cameron The pH of soil is crucial for a plant’s survival. If the soil is too acidic or too alkaline, your plants may not grow well. For example, Basil (Ocimum basilicum), Garlic (Allium sativum), Oregano (Origanum vulgare), Rosemary (Salvia rosmarinus), and Thyme (Thymus vulgaris) all thrive in acidic soil. Most herbs and vegetables prefer soil with a pH between 5.25 and 7.5. So, let’s talk about pH… pH is a measure of how acidic or alkaline an aqueous solution is. You can only test the pH of a substance if it is in solution. Lemon juice, a car battery, coca cola are examples of acids, whilst bleach, kitchen cleaner, and soap are examples of alkalis— which are also called bases. The pH is actually a measure of the hydrogen ion (H ) concentration in a solution. The higher the hydrogen ion concentration, the more acidic it will be. There is a pH scale which usually ranges from 0 to 14. Water is neutral and has a pH value of 7. Solutions consisting of pH of less than 7 indicate acidity, whereas a pH of greater than 7 indicates a base. +

The pH of the solution can be measured by a range of tools— a pH meter, pH paper or Universal Indicator. Universal Indicator is a pH indicator made of a solution of several chemicals that exhibit smooth colour changes over a wide range of pH values, to indicate the acidity or alkalinity of solutions. Both pH paper and Universal Indicator will change colour when in acid, water or alkali solutions and the colour will match a specific number on the pH scale. You can buy pH testing kits from garden centres and suppliers, but is possible to prepare your own natural indicators, using plants. It’s also much more fun. There are quite a few good natural indicators— Red Cabbage (Brassica oleracea var.), Turmeric (Curcuma longa), Grape juice (Vitis vinifera), Turnip skin (Brassica rapa), curry powder, Cherries (Prunus spp.), Beetroots (Beta vulgaris), Red Onion (Allium cepa var.), Tomato (Solanum lycopersicum), Bluebells (Hyacinthoides spp.), Red Poppies (Papaver spp.). They all have anthocyanin molecules that change colour when added to acids or bases.

vi: The Chemistry Column

To make your indicator: 1. Blend a few leaves of Red Cabbage in a smoothie blender, with 400ml cold water. Or if you donâ€™t have a blender, pour hot water over diced cabbage in a bowl till the cabbage is immersed. 2. Leave the hot mixture to cool 3. Strain the coloured cabbage extract into a container 4. Line a row of six glasses and add each test solution (e.g. Lemon juice, kitchen cleaner, your soil solution, etc.), labelling the glasses as you go. Make sure you add tap water to one glass, as a reference. 5. Using an eye dropper, add a few drops of cabbage indicator to each sample.

Images: Universal Indicator from sciencephotos.com pH scale from depositphotos.com Anthocyanin structure from pathway27.eu

If there are young people in your household, this is a great activity for them to enjoy with you. Below are links to two videos I made with one of my own daughters, demonstrating how to prepare the Red Cabbage indicator and the Bluebell indicator. Good luck. To make the Red Cabbage indicator:

https://media.ed.ac.uk/media/Dr+Camer on%27s+Science+Education+in+BSL+Vid eosA+Natural+Indicators+A+1.++Red+C abbage+pH+indicator/1_9aojlckv To make the Bluebell indicator:

https://media.ed.ac.uk/media/Dr+Camer on%27s+Science+Education+in+BSL+Vid eosA+Natural+Indicators+A+2.++Bluebel l+pH+indicator/1_20necta0

Marissa Stoffer Foraged Ink Samples

vi: Garden Gems

In the Bleak Midwinter Ruth Crighton-Ward And suddenly we find ourselves moving away from the Festive season and into the New Year. January can be a tough month. This year, especially. The weather tends to be cold and wet, and the nights are still long and dark. The sparkle of Christmas fades into memory. January can be a time of reflection, but it is also a time to look ahead. The garden lies dormant and waiting. The Snowdrops (Galanthus nivalis)— trailblazers of the plant world —start to appear, sparking possibilities for the oncoming year. We do not know what 2021 will bring. We have no idea if this year will allow us to return to our pre-Covid ways, or not. There is the added uncertainty of Brexit and the chance we may not have access to the foods and medicines we have taken for granted until now. There is a possibility of limited access to fresh fruit and vegetables, and there may also be significant price increases. Now, more than ever, we need to be more self-sufficient— growing as much of our own foods and medicine as possible. Herbology may once have carried a reputation for being outdated, only appealing to people over a certain age. This is no longer the case. Indeed, it is probably more relevant today than it has ever been. I used to think of Horticulture and Herbology as two distinctly separate subjects, but studying them both has given me a more holistic view. I now realise they are intertwined. A plant can be utilised both as a food source

and a medicine, whilst also being enjoyed aesthetically— just read any of James Wong’s books for a modern take on horticulture and medicinal plants. Until now, many of us will not have considered growing plants for medicinal use. For those of you who enjoy colour, and more ornamental plants, try considering plants that have medicinal value as well as being aesthetically pleasing. For example, Primrose (Primula vulgaris) provides a cheerful lemon flower early in the growing season. It is also prized for making a gentle cough syrup. The flowers of the Pot Marigold (Calendula officinalis) are a vibrant orange and serve a multitude of purposes medicinally— with their antifungal, anti-inflammatory and anti-bacterial properties. Selecting plants to grow for medicinal use, can at first seem daunting. Where to start? Try thinking of plants that are pertinent to your own lifestyle and situation. For example, if a member of your family suffers from anxiety, consider growing Chamomile (Matricaria recutita) or Lavender (Lavandula angustifolia). If someone is prone to indigestion, Mint (Mentha spp.) is a fantastic plant which makes a soothing remedy in tea form. It is also extremely easy to grow, and hardy with it, so perfect for beginners. There are more than 600 different varieties, although one of the most common for gardens is Peppermint (Mentha x piperita). It can readily be bought in seed form, but also ask around fellow growers. Many of us have areas in the garden which have been

vi: Garden Gems

overtaken by Mint and will happily dig some up for a fellow gardener. Don’t forget to take a good look at the space you have, and plan accordingly. For example, how much sun does an area get? Is it exposed to the elements or sheltered? Is it a damp area or does it dry out quickly? Then think what seeds you want to sow, and source them from a reputable nursery. We may not just be facing food shortages— seed nurseries might also struggle to provide the same stock they’ve previously had. All the more reason to think creatively. Try to use local suppliers. They will have knowledge of the best plants for your area and climate. It may sound silly, but grow what you like to eat— not just because it’s been a family tradition, or whatever. There is no point using valuable space and time growing plants which do not bring you joy. On the other hand, I know someone who grows tomatoes in abundance. When I commented on how much he must like tomatoes, he replied that he hates eating them but loves to grow them. If you are growing vegetables, then crop rotation can help you plan where to plant them each year. Crop rotation is the practise of growing groups of vegetables in different parts of your growing area each year. If only one crop was grown in that area, then this would deplete the soil of certain nutrients. Crop rotation

groups types of vegetables together, based on their cultivational requirements. This has several benefits; as well as reducing certain pests and diseases which are crop specific, it keeps a good nutritional balance in the soil. There are different methods of crop rotation. The example here follows a four-year plan, with four different groupings of vegetables: legumes; brassicas; Onions and root vegetables; and Potatoes. It’s a simple plan, using four growing areas of roughly equal size and space. Of course, realistically, different growing sections frequently vary in shape and area. You can adapt the principle according to the space you have. Remember, perennial vegetables such as Asparagus (Asparagus officinalis) and Rhubarb (Rheum rhabarbarum) will not fit into this plan as they require their own, dedicated space. Always enjoy your garden for the potential it possesses, rather than mourning any lack of growth. Let your imagination go and dream big. Before you know it, we’ll be coming out of winter and new growth will appear. Next month, we’ll look at the jobs to be done towards the end of winter— before the new growing season gets underway.

vi: The Globe Physic Garden

A Christmas Tale Senga Bate It is 3.00pm on an early December day and the light is fading fast. There are few visitors in Edinburgh’s Botanic Gardens. Now, the noise of a trolley bumping over the uneven ground as two figures loom through the gathering gloom. They are heading— the long way around —from Fletcher Hall towards the little blue shed at the Globe Physic Garden. They are trying not to spill their trolley’s cargo onto the ground. Arriving successfully at their destination, they breathe a sigh of relief— only to find that the shed is leaking a little, the mice have been visiting, and there’s no room for the packages they have painstakingly transported. Half an hour later, the little blue shed is empty, swept clean and— thanks to a serendipitous visit from Elinor with a wheelbarrow —all the rubbish has been removed. Safely stowing the packages, the pair clatter the trolley back to the yard, arriving just in time for the gates to be locked behind them and the Christmas lights illuminated for the evening. At this time of year, those mysterious packages— in their plain white and brown covers —feel like wonderful gifts. They really deserve joyful festive wrappings— but what’s inside them? Without wanting to spoil the surprise, the contents are one big storage box, and shiny, new garden tools for dedicated use by Diploma in Herbology Students and Physic Garden Volunteers. And there’s an exciting rumour abroad— that there may be a staged return to Physic gardening early in the New Year. A ray of light, indeed!

Images: Senga Bate

vi: The Globe Physic Garden

Marissa Stoffer Prickly Lands

vii: Plantstuffs

Tying Off Elizabeth Oliver Autumn is really turning into winter now. Although it’s built into the bank— it’s more of a shelter really —it’s no longer comfortable to spend any time in our open-fronted garden building. My outdoor jobs are done, or abandoned, and now the focus is on textile activities that can be done inside the house. Plant dyeing and contact printing are not really suitable, because of the smell and mess. Besides, much of the plant material has died down or been affected by recent frosts. So now it’s time to spin, and to weave. My upright gossips’ spinning wheel is the perfect size for tucking into a corner of the kitchen. I believe the name originated because, unlike the traditional spinning wheel, the compact size and shape of this style allowed spinners to sit close together, gossiping. I like my wheel because it sits quietly, out of the way until I can sit for a few minutes, or an hour, and spin. Transforming handfuls of fleece into skeins of yarn ready for weaving or knitting is a practice that rarely disappoints, and I love every part of the process. My habit is to spin 'in the grease'. I simply sort the unusable sections of fleece (and compost) and then clean any vegetable matter from the rest. I bring the raw fleece into the house in cotton bags, approximately 300gms at a time. The exception to this is when I want to dye a quantity of fleece, to blend it before spinning. In this case, the raw fleece will be scoured, mordanted— I use alum —and dyed before bringing into the house, where I will card and blend the fibres together before spinning. We are lucky, in this part of rural England, to be surrounded by farms and smallholdings. The

variety of fleeces available to me is wideranging. I have the luxury of choice. Sarah has a flock of Portland sheep and I love their fleece; it spins well, takes dye well and is an old favourite. Another Sarah, who is a smallholder, has a small domestic flock with a couple of Jacobs— named Daisy and Tulip —and some Hebrideans. Tulip’s fleece is my favourite to spin. She has the traditional Jacob markings and her fleece graduates from creamy white, through Moorit, to dark brown and nearly black. There are so many colours in one fleece, hers is the original coat of many colours! And I shouldn’t forget to mention the two or three local flocks of alpacas whose soft fleece is interesting to spin; it feels more like hair, and behaves quite differently from sheep’s fleece. This summer I have collected a few fleeces, and I’m looking forward to spinning them. Hand-spinning yarn is very cathartic. My hands and feet know what to do; the simple, repetitive movements are automatic after so many years. I think it is a form of meditation, sometimes the trickiest conundrums can be resolved with half an hour’s spinning. And the end result is a bobbin full of singles, ready to be plied with another bobbin of singles, to become recognisable yarn. Recently, I’ve been using handspun yarn to weave long scarves on a table loom. Like hand-spinning, handweaving is a slow, meditative action that calms the mind— perfect for quiet winter evenings listening to the radio. And as the year draws to a close, so does this— the final instalment of my maker’s tales. Images: Elizabeth Oliver

vii: Plantstuffs

vii: Chocolatime

Dance of the Chocolate Heart Milly Watson Brown In this column last month, I mentioned that chocolate is wonderful for boosting serotonin levels and making us feel good. I hope you all enjoyed experimenting with the hot chocolate ideas and suggestions. This month, as 2020 ends and we all look forward with fresh hope for a brighter year in 2021, we turn to our hearts. On a physical level, our hearts are keeping us alive by pumping oxygenated blood around our bodies. As we exercise, our muscles and organs need more oxygen, so our heart rate increases. This all just happens, without need for a conscious thought. Incredible. On an emotional level, our hearts are where we feel, respond, care and love. Many of us will at some time have felt broken-hearted, as well as enjoying that heart-fluttering sensation of falling in love. That these can really be felt in the physical heart, shows that our hearts are sites of love and emotion. Chocolate has an effect on both the physical and emotional energies of the heart. Physically, high percentage dark chocolate contains dietary flavonoids. There is some debate that these antioxidants, when taken as part of a healthy, balanced diet, may contribute to a reduced risk of coronary heart disease (American Heart Association, 2019). On an emotional and spiritual level, chocolate— especially raw Cacao —has been used ceremoniously as a heart opener for hundreds of years. In ceremony, it is often drunk as a rich, thick, lightly spiced drink, with the intention of moving emotional blockages, opening the spiritual heart, deepening meditation practice, bringing inspiration and creativity. Such ceremonies often close with a dance, to move the energy through the body and to ground the self. Certainly, I have experienced euphoric joy whilst dancing with Cacao in my veins: Heart lifting, heart pumping, cacao, Urging my body to move and shake Twist and dance, Unravelling myself to you, cacao,

Cacao my love Cacao my lover Waves come, and wash you over me. Moments of calm at the waves’ crest, that pause, stillness, light, Before breaking, crashing, moving forwards. Motion. Stillness comes again. In prayer, in wish, in dream. Action pulses me to fulfil my desires. Sipping on my cup, becoming aware of others’ hearts around. Each so individual, so personal, so intimate. Each entering our own hearts’ realm, meeting our own love. Love. Eyes cast the circle, Smiles abound, giggles entail. We understand each other without even knowing. We sit, we dance, we pray, we wonder. We Love. In a Cacao ceremony, there is much emphasis on self; self-love, inner-world and personal dreaming. Yet, beyond this is a community— holding each other, supporting and encouraging each other, sharing that love. There is something so personal, and yet so universal about journeying with Cacao. Cacao’s ability to increase the release of serotonin and dopamine— pleasure hormones —gives us a sense of euphoria, joy, love and connection to ourselves, and so to others. I’m sure many people enjoy eating chocolate without knowing this, because they experience this feel-good factor anyway. At this time of year— and particularly given the year that’s just passed —there are fewer opportunities for community gatherings, so we need more and more resources to help us tap in to taking care of our own needs. I have found that tapping into my resources of self-love and acceptance has been vital. Over the last six

vii: Chocolatime weeks, I have set myself the accessible task of at least 5 minutes of meditation at the beginning and end of each day, to rewire unhelpful thought patterns towards more positive, loving affirmations. And even after such a short time, this small action is having such a huge impact on my daily life, it astounds me. What small act of kindness can you give yourself this week?

References American Heart Association (2019) â€˜Are there Health benefits from Chocolate?â€™, American Heart Association News, https://www.heart.org/en/news/2019/02/12/ar e-there-health-benefits-from-chocolate, accessed 13.12. 20 @moontimechocolate www.moontimechocolate.co.uk Image: Milly Watson Brown

vii: Notes from the Brew Room

Festive Truffles and Magic Elixirs Ann King It has been an absolute joy to experiment with this month’s recipe. It starts with a standard chocolate truffle recipe, but then incorporates magical ingredients which not only evoke the festive season but also benefit the digestive system and the heart, boosting immunity and providing a virtual hug in each glorious bite. The sugar content is minimal, and the ingredient choice can cater to a vegan diet. My fellow columnist, Milly from Moontime Chocolates, has already discussed the nutritional value of Cacao (Theobroma cacao), and this recipe highlights that antioxidant action and the high proportion of healthy fats, magnesium, copper and iron found in chocolate. All of these are particularly beneficial during cold spells, when exhaustion can become an issue. Follow your personal taste when selecting the strength of chocolate for the truffle recipe. I have chosen 85% dark, to counteract the sweetness of the Cinnamon and the richness of the Coconut cream, and to balance the spicy notes of the Chilli and Cardamom. If you prefer a sweeter note, try using a lighter chocolate combined with antioxidant-rich dried berries, or coat the truffle with white chocolate. The options are endless, and creativity is definitely encouraged.

next year’s harvest to make another batch. You’ll need the following: Foraged berries (Hawthorn, Rosehips, Sea Buckthorn…) Local honey Brandy A selection of spices. We used 2x Cinnamon sticks, 3x Star Anise, 1tbsp Black Peppercorns 1x 1litre Kilner jar or similar 1x sterilised glass bottle or Kilner jar Method Half fill your jar with wild autumn berries. Add the local honey to cover and stir gently (a chopstick works well). Top the mix up with brandy and add the spices. Leave to infuse in a dark cupboard for 4-6 weeks. Strain off the berries and decant into the glass bottle. Use for drizzling, sipping after a winter walk, adding to hot water for a delicious warming drink or adding to these festive chocolate truffles.

As far as the liquor is concerned, this can be replaced with a good quality vanilla paste (a tsp will suffice), but the addition of the wildcrafted Hips and Haws elixir does provide depth and punch to the flavour, whilst adding beneficial components for the heart and immune system. To Make Hips and Haws Elixir This recipe was adapted from a folk recipe for hedgerow elixir and involves very loose measurements, based on the amount of berries gathered and the size of the brewing vessel. There are still some hips present in our hedgerows but otherwise, you’ll be waiting for

vii: Notes from the Brew Room

Hawthorn (Crataegus monogyna) is another member of the Rosaceae family, and an elixir combining it with Rosehips is an herbal apothecary dream. Hawthorn contains a high proportion of bioflavonoids and has a vasorelaxant action both of which suggest help to the heart, particularly in times of stress. The elixir adds a little kick to the blend, wrapping the festive truffles in a warm herbal blanket and creating a carefully crafted treat with handpicked benefits To Make the Truffles Measures and method The key here is to heat both the chocolate and creams with their respective infusion materials in bains-marie, separately and very slowly. This usually takes around 15mins. Then add the cream to the chocolate, blend and trickle in elixir. The amount is variable (between 2–3 tbsp) but we want a consistency of unwhipped double cream at this stage. Once combined, the bowl can be popped in the fridge for a short period until starting to thicken. This phase does not take long. Once it is semi-soft and malleable, make Malteser-sized balls and roll each in the coating mix. Keep in the refrigerator and take out 30mins before eating. First infusion 250g dark chocolate or 50/50 mix Cacao/dark chocolate Heaped tsp Cinnamon powder Pinch of sea salt Seeds removed from 8 Cardamom pods Second infusion 150ml full fat Coconut milk or single cream Pinch of Rose petals (strain out before adding to the chocolate)

For the coating Ginger (Zingiber officinale) is a perfect aromatic, digestive herb for the winter months. It helps to stimulate stagnant digestion, particularly when there are symptoms of bloating. It is also a powerful anti-microbial herb, which may ward off pathogens in the digestive system. Use in powdered form. Orange (Citrus x sinensis). The zest, or dried orange peel gives flavour, alleviates phlegm and dampness in the lungs, and boosts the metabolism. Mix both of the above with caster sugar, to taste. Cinnamon (Cinnamomum aromaticum) is stimulating, warming and drying. It helps to move blood, and ease stagnant digestion. Its antioxidant capacity has been used to benefit inflammation generally, and arthritis in particular. Cardamom (Elettaria cardamomum) has a warming effect, energy and flavour. Sea salt is used here to bring out the flavour of the individual elements in the blend, and to provide an additional source of minerals, particularly magnesium. Rose (Rosa spp). Using both the flower petal collected in the summer, and the fruit (in the elixir) gathered in the autumn brings warmth, floral tones and energy to the brew. There is something undeniably magical about using elements from different seasons of a plant’s cycle. Rose is both an emotional and a physical remedy for the heart, lifting the spirits on sight and guarding from unwanted energies with her prickles—the perfect ally for grief, loss and nurturing. I recommend eating at least two truffles a day…. Images: Ann King

Marissa Stoffer Botanical Columns

ix: Botanica Fabula

That Brave White Flower Amanda Edmiston Now— now, as low I stooped, thought I, I will see what this snowdrop is; So shall I put much argument by, And solve a lifetime's mysteries.

‘The Snowdrop’, Walter de la Mare In the final stanza of his poem, De La Mare describes his: Mind fixed, but else made vacant These words resonate. Almost lost from recollection, they sear through the cerebral cortex in those moments when the cold latches on, when the bitter wind thrusts into the body, flaying focus and forcing us to consider only the vital— one heartbeat at a time. We keen for a glimpse of January's sharp spike of glossy green. Gaining passage through the glacial ground, catching the eye it reminds us that the frost will thaw, warmth will return, our minds will once again be freed from the fight to survive the cold and be granted the grace to consider beauty, ideas and the landscape once more. In one of the last collective moments of land-led magic, communities come together for 'Snowdrop weekends', walking parkways and gardens, sharing a common relief in witnessing the ground revitalise and stir. That brave white flower... It was Hans Christian Andersen who told the plants own tale, explaining its readiness to appear as other bulbs held fast beneath the surface:

Soon a sunbeam, so slender and penetrating, bored through the snow, down to the bulb, and tapped on it. ‘Come in,’ said the Flower. ‘That I can't do,’ said the Sunbeam. ‘I'm not strong enough to open you up. I shall be very strong by summer.’ ‘When will it be summer?’ asked the Flower and repeated this every time a new sunbeam came down to it. But summer was far off; snow remained on the earth, and ice formed on the water in the streams every blessed night. ‘How long this lasts! How long this lasts!’ said the Flower. ‘I feel a tingling and tickling. I must stretch myself; I must extend myself. I must open up; I must come out and wave good morning to the summer; that will be a wonderful time!’ And the Flower stretched itself and extended itself against the thin shell that had been softened by the rainwater, warmed by the blanket of earth and snow, and tapped upon by the Sunbeam. It burst forth beneath the snow, with a white and green bud on its green stalk, with narrow, thick leaves, curled around it as if for protection. The snow was cold, but

ix: Botanica Fabula

light radiated down into it, making it quite easy to break through; and here now the Sunbeam streamed down with greater strength than before. ‘Welcome! Welcome!’ sang and rang out every Sunbeam as the Flower rose above the snow, out into the world of light. The Sunbeams caressed and kissed it, so that it opened itself fully, white as snow and adorned with green stripes. It bowed it's head in happiness and humility. ‘Beautiful flower!’ sang the Sunbeams. ‘How fresh and pure you are! You are the first...You ring out the call of summer...All the snow shall melt, the cold winds be driven away...Everything shall grow green!’

Then it lay in a child's hand, was kissed by a child's lips, brought into a warm room, gazed upon by kindly eyes, and set in water— so strengthening, so exhilarating. The Flower thought that it had all of a sudden come into midsummer. Traditionally used to treat grief and trauma, now cherished for its galantamine— preventing rapid memory loss as Alzheimer's grips like a terrifying personal permafrost —the stories and legends of the Snowdrop, reverberating its softening effect on the blow of midwinter, so poetically echo it's uses.

‘You have come a little too early!’ said Wind and Weather. ‘We still have power, and this you shall feel and have to comply with! You should have remained indoors, instead of rushing out here to display your finery! It is not the time for that yet!’ It was bitingly cold, and the days that followed didn't bring a Sunbeam. It was weather to freeze such a delicate little flower to bits. But there was more strength in it than even it realized...

Andersen's plucked bloom ends as a lover's gift— an aide-memoir in a book of poetry — pressed and rediscovered when years have passed. In the British Isles, however, lore suggests we never bring those pendulous, white, milk-flowers into the house, as they forebode an imminent death. Yet they remain associated with hope and with returning light, expected to first appear on Candlemass Day, as George Wilson observes in his poem, ‘The Origin of the Snowdrop’: And thus the snowdrop, like the bow That spans the cloudy sky, Becomes a symbol whence we know That brighter days are nigh

‘Snowdrop!’ rejoiced some children who came into the garden. ‘There stands one, so sweet, so beautiful— the first, the only one!’ And these words made the Flower feel so well; they were like the warm Sunbeams. In its gladness it never noticed that it was being plucked.

References This translation of Hans Christian Andersen's story The Snowdrop is freely available in the public domain. The full version can be read here: https://andersen.sdu.dk/vaerk/hersholt/TheSn owdrop_e.html Image: Marianne Hughes

ix: Botanica Fabula

ix: Foraging Through Folklore

Beyond Winter Ella Leith My sister’s first child arrived early. Due in March, she made an unexpected appearance in the cold of late January, long before a name had been chosen and right in the middle of moving house. In the anxiety of the neonatal intensive care unit (and, later, in the bustle of locating and extracting the new-baby stuff from the mountains of unpacked boxes), agreeing a name slipped down the list of priorities. Instead, we all referred to her as Snowdrop. As our mother said, “You think of them as spring flowers, but snowdrops always arrive earlier than you expect, and they always lift the heart.” Snowdrops are among the very first flowers of the new year, growing and blooming undeterred by the snow that sometimes surrounds them; their French name, perceneige, literally means snow-piercers. Their early arrival is the result— so the story goes —of a special relationship with the snow. Long ago, when the snow was colourless, it went around all the flowers asking each of them in turn to lend it their colour. All the flowers refused except the Snowdrop, which gifted the snow its milky whiteness. In gratitude, the snow allows the Snowdrop to come above ground and bloom first, without having to compete for attention with any of the other, more showy flowers (Schönwerth, 2014). As well as lending my niece a nickname, Snowdrops have many nicknames of their own: Fair Maids of February (although often blooming earlier), White Ladies, Mary’s Tapers, Candlemas Bells. The latter two allude to

Candlemas, or the Feast of the Purification of the Blessed Virgin Mary, which falls on 2nd February— around the time that Snowdrops come into bloom. Throughout Catholic Europe, the flowers are used alongside candles to bedeck altars to the Virgin Mary, their whiteness the symbolic colour of purity. Other traditions also link purification to this time of year: the day before Candlemas is Imbolc (Christianised as St Bride’s Day), a Gaelic festival marking the quarter day between the winter solstice and the spring equinox, when fires and candles were traditionally lit as a purification ritual to celebrate the coming of spring. Further south, Margaret Baker (1969) records a custom called the ‘white purification’ taking place in the Welsh marches, whereby a house was only considered cleansed and ready for spring once Snowdrops had been picked and carried inside. But folklore is inconsistent: other traditions warn of bad luck to those who bring Snowdrops into the house, cautioning that they will cause the milk to sour or turn watery, the eggs and butter to go bad, and the chickens to stop laying (Baker, 1969; Burne, 1914). They may even cause death in the household: Snowdrops are so much like a corpse in a shroud that in some countries the people will not have them in the house, lest they bring in death. (Daniels, 1903) The strong association between Snowdrops and death is reinforced by their tendency to grow in churchyards and cemeteries— and by their daintily hanging heads, which are often

ix: Foraging Through Folklore

anthropomorphically attributed to sorrowfulness. But writing in the middle of winter and the midst of a pandemic, I want to de-emphasise these connotations. For Snowdrops also bring joy— not only to the selfprofessed galantophiles who enthusiastically collect rare varieties and hybrids, but to those of us longing to see an early marker of spring in the long, dark, cold period following Christmas. Snowdrops offer reassurance that lighter and warmer days are on their way. This is the role of the Snowdrop in another tale, seemingly created by George Wilson for his 1839 poem Origin of the Snowdrop (‘some angel, like the one in the story, whispered in my ear’) and now a popular legend. After Adam and Eve were expelled from Eden into the snow-driven wasteland, an angel took pity on them in their despair. It created— either from a falling snowflake, or from Eve’s Tears (another of the Snowdrop’s bynames) —a small white flower as a symbol of hope and a reminder and promise of better days to come. Their white petals are tinged with a very pale green, a subtle harbinger of spring in a bleak landscape. Better days would certainly be welcome, so I’m looking forward to the first Snowdrops of 2021. I hope they come much earlier than expected; they always lift the heart.

References Baker, M. (1969) Discovering the Folklore of Plants. Dover Publications. Burne, C. S. (1914) The Handbook of Folklore. The Folklore Society. Daniels, C. L. (1903) Encyclopedia of Superstitions, Folklore, and the Occult Sciences of the World. University of Michigan Library. Schönwerth, F. (2014) Original Bavarian Folktales. Translated by C. Wolf. Dover Publications. Schramm, B. (2016) ‘Snowdrops: Science, Myths, and Folklore’ in Voices: The Journal of New York Folklore, 42 (Fall-Winter, 3-4), pp. 4647. Wilson, J. A. (1860). Memoir of George Wilson. Edmonston & Douglas and MacMillan & Co.

ix: StAnza Presents …

my garden of mutants (This poem was first published in Modern Poetry in Translation)

the heart regenerates more slowly than other organs and is never renewed completely that’s what it says in the textbook

павольней за іншыя органы рэгенеруецца сэрца і цалкам ніколі не абнаўляецца так напісана ў падручніку (так кажа падручнік/навука)

this means I think that everyone in there will remain

значыцца думаю усе хто туды патрапіў там застануцца

the left side of one person’s body will be erased a face will disappear a new one growing in the place of the old

у кагось сатрэцца левая частка цела знікне твар і на месцы старога вырасце новы перамяшаюцца мовы імёны гады

languages, years, names will intermingle in my garden of mutants where we lost our way

мой сад мутантаў дзе заблукалі мы

Volha Hapeyeva (Вольга Гапеева) is an award-winning Belarusian poet. Her works have been translated into more than ten languages, and she has a pamphlet due out with Arc Publications in February 2021, with translations by Annie Rutherford. She writes poetry, prose and drama, as well as occasional books for children. Volha Hapeyeva is the author of the books Unshaven Morning (2007), The Grammar of Snow (2017), Camel-Travel (2019) and others. She collaborates with electronic musicians and visual artists to create audio-visual performances. A member of the Belarusian PEN Centre and the Independent Belarusian Writers’ Union, she holds a PhD in linguistics; her research is in the fields of comparative linguistics, philosophy of language, sociology of the body, and gender issues in culture and literature. Based in Edinburgh, Annie Rutherford champions poetry and translated literature in all its guises. She works at StAnza, Scotland’s international poetry festival, and translates from German, French and Belarusian. Her translation from German of Nora Gomringer’s selected poems, Hydra’s Heads, appeared with Burning Eye Books in 2018, and her translations of Volha Hapeyeva and Isobel Bogdan are forthcoming in 2021. StAnza brings poetry to audiences and enables encounters with poetry through events and projects in Scotland and beyond, especially their annual spring festival in St Andrews. www.stanzapoetry.org Facebook: stanzapoetry Instagram: @stanzapoetry

Marissa Stoffer Balm for the Wounds of Life

x: Book Club

The Hidden Half of Nature: The Microbial Roots of Life and Health (Montgomery, D.R. & Biklé, A.; W.W. Norton & Co., 2016) Reviewer: Marianne Hughes If you’re interested in those aspects of nature that are invisible to us, then this book is for you. I found it an invaluable companion on my dissertation journey to connect human gut health with the health of our soil. This book helped answer my questions about what the soil in which we grow our herbs and medicinal trees tells us about the quality of these plants, and our own health. But the book is really the story of two other journeys of discovery— those of its authors — and these entail bringing degraded soil to life in the USA, and surviving cancer. Montgomery’s background is in geology, Biklé’s in biology and public health. Perhaps as a result, the book contains some very detailed soil and immunity science. Yet, it is written in an accessible style and, even if you skip the parts you find too detailed, you can still benefit from its contents. Montgomery begins by outlining the modern practice of regarding microbes as bad, describing the ‘war’ we seek to wage on them, and the disastrous consequences of agrochemicals for our soil, rivers and health: By inadvertently decimating beneficial soil life, we disrupt the nutritional and defence systems plants have honed through adaptive symbioses with microbial life. In reframing microbes as beneficial, the authors: stumbled upon a whole new way of seeing nature…some microbes are our secret silent partners For the gardeners among you, this is an old and familiar story, but some of the details might still

be fascinating as Montgomery explores the role soil microbes play in delivering essential nutrients to our plants, and therefore to ourselves. Biklé’s journey though cancer brings her faceto-face with the world of the immune system, inflammation and the beneficial microbes we need for good health. As she notes: In the past 50 years, the incidence of gut dysfunctions has increased 40fold...and autoimmune diseases like asthma and allergies are turning out to be, at least in part, consequences of an immune system gone alarmingly awry. Most of our immune system resides in our gut— in our colon, to be precise. Our indiscriminate use of antibiotics (in human and animal populations) disrupts our gut microbial systems, just as agrochemicals disrupt our soil microbial systems. The authors demonstrate the similarities between a plant’s root system and our human digestive tract— both function through microbial cooperation, communication and exchange. Mulching your inner soil can mean the difference between robust health and ill health— we need most of the microbes we’ve been trying so hard to kill. They suggest: Microbes serve as nature’s software— an organic operating system alive with biotic code, a menu of genetic instructions crafted over deep time...out of sight and out of mind, until it crashes. The book contains a useful glossary and excellent references and, whilst it’s not a relaxing read, it is a worthwhile one. It will certainly give you food for thought as you tuck into your winter feast.

x: Book Club

Digging with the Duchess, Digging Deeper with the Duchess (Llewellyn, S.; New Hat, 2014 & 2020) Reviewer: Kyra Pollitt Like a cult, small batch gin, these volumes have a strong and particular flavour. Like the Duchess after too much of her favourite tipple, you’ll find yourself laughing out loud without being quite sure why, feeling somewhat confused the morning after, but knowing that you’ve heard some wisdom on the way. So, who— or perhaps what —is the Duchess? The Duchess made her debut in a series of essays in Hortus and throughout the first volume of these collections the reader remains somewhat unsure of the nature of the beast. Is she a person? Could she be a favourite gardening tool? A dog? By the second volume, recently published, it has become all too clear what we’re dealing with. Well, sort of. Imagine Lady Chatterley wed her gardener, and we have returned to find her soured by the decades, drowning her sorrows in gin and just about finding a way through her marriage. The gardener is our narrator, the garden both metaphor and mediator. The Duchess is at once monstrous and wonderful. Wreathed in ‘clouds of Capstan smoke’, smelling of ‘Chanel no.5, stale face powder, forbidden gin’, accompanied by ‘the knell-like clink of bottle on glass’, with ‘mascara-caked eyes’ and a gaze that once ‘shot out of the window, setting fire to a branch on the far side of the lawn’, she is formidable. Along the way, we are exposed to her muddled disdain. We learn that she ‘can’t see the point’ of Scotland, hates the Chelsea Flower Show, despises the National Trust, and regards Latin binomials as ‘just plain stupid’: She batted the page with her earthblack, enamel-red nails. ‘Myosotis, forsooth, Forget-me-not, damn them. Primula, Primrose, curse their hideous livers and lights. Lavandula, give me strength, Lavender, pox guzzle the brutes.’

The gardens at the Duchess’s abode, The Hope, feature the Swamp Patio, Sunk Garden, Reflecting Pool, Big Hedge, Big Lawn, Hay Meadow, Home Wood, and the Caledonian Glade, but the Duchess is a keen innovator. Like the gardener, and perhaps the garden, the reader learns to dread her grand and impulsive schemes. Her ‘sea garden’ is designed for a drunken internet purchase of ‘a shed in Scotland’ containing ‘bunks and a stove’, located by a beach and lacking a garden. Undaunted, the Duchess imagines: It will be fringed with a kelp forest studded with tiny bioluminescent crustaceans. Inside this we will grow sea lettuce and dulse for the kitchen. There will be a rockery of coldwater corals and sea anemones in variety. The tide-ripples will make Japanese gardens for us in the sandy patches. Fuschia and tamarisk will admire their reflections at high water… Her design for a ‘politics garden’, inspired by her irritation that Scottish independence might spoil her privileged access to sport and leisure if she has to hang around in the Scots Consulate queuing for a visa is equally scathing across the political spectrum: The ink [on her hand drawn plan] said this was about Conservatives. The massed gentians were the unthinking we-want-it-like-it-was true blue rank

x: Book Club and file. The liberal wing was represented by the magenta horrors [geraniums]. Libertarians, who in countries less soothed by horticulture would be locked up as anarchists, were black. Party grandees, many of them cousins of the Duchess, were represented by the mighty oaks. Clambering into the lower branches of the oaks were rambler roses— remarkably thorny, the Duchess pointed out, and with enough ambition to scramble their way just about anywhere; but genetically incapable of ever being truly blue. Folded between the invective and the wit is a wealth of real gardening knowledge. In attempting to divert the Duchess, the gardener whisks her— and the reader —off to Tresco, Lismore, Myrtle Grove, Cappoquin House, Dromana, Baverstock Manor, Amsterdam Botanic Gardens, Meikleour, Mount Stuart, Arduaine, Li, Glendurgan, Hampton Court, Baverstock Manor, some Japanese-influenced gardens at Tahoo in Martha’s Vineyard, and many others. Not all of them receive rave reviews. We also learn of the specialist nurseries who can supply the Duchess’s needs; Burncoose, Paviour and Davies, and so on. As I say, these volumes cater to a particular taste, but as soon as you finish reading one of these short essays, I’ll wager you’ll find yourself tempted to indulge in just one more. Serve on the rocks, with a garnish of your choice.

x: Book Club

Seeking Reviewers Are you reading something you would recommend to others? Weâ€™re always interested in reviews of books to share with fellow herbal folk. Please simply send us a review, or get in touch: herbologynews@gmail.com Do you have a book youâ€™d like to submit for potential review? Post to: The Editor Herbology News Glen House, 3 Reinigeadal, Isle of Harris. HS3 3BD

xi: Herbologistâ€™s Diary

Poster with a Cause Grass Roots Remedies are an Edinburgh-based Workers' Co-operative aiming to make community herbal healthcare accessible to all. They run a low-cost community clinic in Wester Hailes, in Edinburgh, which provides professional herbal support to people living in poverty. They've teamed up with artist Sandra Nussbaum to create a beautiful poster on the 'Herbs of Scotland', delicately illustrating the traditional names and uses of 11 native species. 100% of the proceeds of sales of this poster sale will go supporting their clinic in Wester Hailes. The posters can be posted to UK & EU, and cost ÂŁ13.50 each. To order yours, visit their online shop at www.grassrootsremedies.co.uk/shop Or email them at hello@grassrootsremedies.co.uk

ADVERTISE HERE For a ridiculously small fee, you can advertise your products and services to over 200 interested readers.

We can embed a link to take our readers directly to your website, Etsy shop, or platform of your choice.

£15 for a full-page advert with illustration(s) of your choice £10 for a half-page, with appropriately sized illustration £5 is all it costs for a quarter-page advertisement

All monies raised go to production costs. Contact: herbologynews@gmail.com

xii: Contributors

Senga Bate started her RBGE Herbology journey around 2007, at first attending evening classes, then any and all classes offered by Catherine Conway-Payne, and eventually graduating from the Dip. Herbology in 2015. Since 2016/7 Senga has tutored in herb horticulture on both the attended and blended RBGE Diplomas. She has been a volunteer in the Physic garden areas in RGBE since 2013. A huge advocate for kitchen pharmacy, she uses herbs, spices, mushrooms, wild plants and sea vegetables as daily preventative medicine. Hazel Bradyâ€™s background is in IT, but she has always loved plants and since retiring has expanded her knowledge, especially around herbs. She completed the Diploma in Herbology at RBGE under Catherine ConwayPayne. Retirement has also given her the opportunity to develop another of her interests â€”an artistic practice centred in drawing and painting.

Dr Audrey Cameron, a polymer chemist, is now a Teaching Fellow in Science Education at Moray House School of Education and Sport. She teaches on the PGDE Secondary Education (Chemistry) and PGDE Primary Education (Science) courses.

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

xii: Contributors

Anne Dalziel qualified as a Bach Foundation Registered Practitioner (BFRP) in 2006, later becoming a licensed teacher for the Bach International Education Programme (BIEP) and for the Bach Foundation. Anne has facilitated many workshops in community education, and for several commercial organisations. IG: @bachflowertraining 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 David Hughes is an organic gardener, fruit and veg enthusiast, plant nutritionist, terpine whisperer, seed collector, green librarian and half decent in the kitchen. Most often found disturbing the peace in the woods of East Lothian, or more occasionally wandering in unimproved pastures looking quizzically at things, David looks to explore people and their relationships with the plants that surround them by examining the esoteric sides of herbology through conversation, experience and silly wee stories. Marianne Hughes began following her interest in complementary medicine after a career in Social Work Education and voluntary work in Fair Trade. Starting with Reflexology & Reiki, she progressed into Herbal Medicine. The evening classes at the RBGE got her hooked and she completed the Certificate in Herbology and, more recently, the Diploma in Herbology. Her current 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

xii: Contributors

Ally Hurcikova is a Medical Herbalist BSc Hons RH (AHG) and member of Grass Roots Remedies Co-operative based in Edinburgh. A 2011 RBGE Diploma in Herbology graduate, she is delighted to now be part of the teaching team for current students. Ally is passionate about working towards a fairer and more ecologically regenerative society, and about the accessibility of herbal medicine. She founded the Wester Hailes Community Herbal Clinic in 2015, providing professional consultations for people on low incomes, in collaboration with the Wester Hailes Medical Practice.

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

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

Maddy Mould is an illustrator from Lancashire, who has recently escaped city living in Edinburgh for the Scottish Borders. Her work is heavily influenced by her interests in the natural landscape, folklore, and history. She likes to illuminate the magic of everyday things, both through her art and through some simple kitchen witchery with what she hopes will soon be home-grown produce. @maddymould

xii: Contributors

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

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

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. Milly Watson Brown is the creatress of Moon Time Chocolate— hand-made, herbal chocolate truffles to support the menstrual cycle. She loves foraging and alchemising wild herbs and plants. It was this, and her combination of passions— for great food, herbs, womb health, and empowerment — that launched the business four years ago. Moon Time Chocolate sells online at www.moontimechocolate.co.uk, and can be followed on Instagram @moontimechocolate.

Herbology News has grown from the Herbology courses taught at the Royal Botanic Gardens Edinburgh, under the careful eye of Catherine Conway-Payne. A suite of Herbology course options are available, as part of the broad range of education courses offered by RBGE.

xii: Looking Forward

1//21: The Slow Issue      

Your usual columnists Plus Artist of the Month: Tansy Lee Moir Plus Our Man in the Field puts his feet up, as our Editor interviews Amanda Saurin Plus An article on Kigelia africana from Sarah Murphy Plus the first instalment of an occasional column from Marissa Stoffer on Foraging for Colour Plus your Book Reviews

And more….

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