On Change, Snow, + Being Unready for Spring

Not even two weeks ago I walked with a bucket of fermenting apples in each hand down the dirt road with my friend to feed the pigs. The snow came down in fat soft constellations, the sounds of our boots muffled in the snowpack, the spooning hills curling around each other in contented receding sighs, dotted with tiny lit windows and plumes of blue woodsmoke.

The pigs, to my comfort, are shaggy and brindled beasts who watched our approach with inquisitive gazes and did not wait for their food to freeze but politely snarffled through the snow where the glut of apples had lodged themselves in the drifts. The swine were at least belly-deep in the snow, which on me stopped at my knees.
We fed the chickens as the snow persisted, and my friend, a rose-cheeked example of many generations of Vermont hardiness, explained to me that the more snow we get, the less likely we are to experience the likes of last year’s drought. Of course. Which engendered in me a further tenderness toward the damp crystals encrusting our hoods and weighing in our escaped wisps of hair.
So at home I contentedly re-stuffed the woodstove and hung the wet woolens and made as spicy a curry as I could palate and we plotted an outdoor skating adventure for the following frozen frozen day.

As you might be able to tell: I was finally learning hygge, that intuitive coping with winter which eventually reveals itself as learning to not simply take refuge in but cherish the small snow caves we carve out and curl up in. No small feat for a femme raised in the deep South.
Alas, or perhaps not, this morning I left the house with only one wool sweater, a scarf, and hat. Okay, sure, I had pants on too. But the point is: The air felt kind on my face. Gloves were not a necessity. My toes didn’t go numb from the porch to the car. Now I sit in the studio with the sun shining through the tall windows. The river outside beyond the brace of tall bare maples is still frozen and covered with snow, but the sap lines are running, the pumps buzzing and coaxing the sweetness into the downhill tanks, the roads are wet and muddy and already the human faces look sparkly in ways that I don’t feel ready for yet.
Change, I’m noticing, even when the transition is from a less comfortable situation to a more hopeful one, can be a struggle. Once we’ve gotten used to a sour-faced boss, the cranky teenage offspring, the lonely confines of our daily routines, the brisk about-face of an apology from an unexpected source, a vulnerable moment that explains all of a day in high school, or the friend stopping by the office when we our faces have become one with the computer screen can feel strangely unwelcome. The small dragon inside me that finally succumbed to the lull of hibernation is maybe not ready to peel back layers, expose tender skin, dip a toe in the possibility that warmth is a distinct probability.
At least, I’m not starting seeds in the greenhouse yet.

But I am calling out my own reluctance toward hope, towards joy, both of which have been severely challenged in this political moment. I am taking my Daily Resilience Tonic, bathing in rose petals and chamomile flowers, keeping the Boundaries Potion in my pocket, and writing all the feelings down so I can have a little extra space as I go about my day. I am learning to be mindful when the stubborn little bull inside me wants to keep everything exactly how it is.

Oh yes, and I’m keeping Octavia Butler in one hand and a bit of garnet in the other. You too?

Winter Truffles + Staying Warm

 

Happy New Year, folks! In Vermont we are in Deep Winter, which often means snow up to my bellybutton when I emerge from the woodstove cocoon of our old farmhouse.

The good folks at the Herbal Academy asked me to contribute a piece on circulatory herbs for winter and how best to get them in your belly: Warming Winter Rituals: Herbal Truffles for Good Circulation. Check out the teaser below and click on the link for details, materia medica, and recipes!

While the most immediately obvious health perks of herbal truffles are their delicious and stimulating effects, all of the herbs included also have additional notable health benefits. Many of these herbs are antimicrobial, helping to ward off winter-time contagions, and nearly all of them are digestive aids, helping to prepare the gut for breaking down food, stimulate bile for the digestion of fats, soothe bloating and gas, absorb nutrients, and relax the digestive tract. The extra daily dose of antioxidants can’t hurt either, helping to address inflammation and its downstream effects. Herbal truffles are a simple, delicious, and accessible opportunity to tailor your daily ritual to your and your loved-ones particular health needs.

All Hands on Harvest!

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Ripe + Tart Autumn Olive Berries (Eleagnus spp)
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Freshly upturned Venus of Willendorf
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Blueberries (can’t stop/won’t stop)
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These sunflowers are definitely over 6 feet tall
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Stinging Nettle Going to Seed
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Jimson Weed (Datura)
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Catnip Harvest
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Cleaning Milk Thistle Seeds
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Birthday Dinner under the Walnut Tree
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Autumn Olive Make Everything Glow

Medicine gardens in full swing

Purple Cone Flower (Echinacea purpurea) rises brilliantly from last year’s bed
A gorgeous cultivar of California poppy (Eschscholzia californica) always has trouble with transplanting but manages to make a vibrant comeback
Many colors of the protective & cleansing Yarrow (Achillea millefolium)
Tulsi, also known as the Holy Basil that comes to us from Ayurvedic medicine traditions, blooms brilliantly despite the drought this year (Wild Carrot Farm, Vermont)
Milky Oats (Avena sativa) are harvested for tincture-making when they begin to exude their milky latex (Whetstone Ledges Farm, Marlboro, Vermont)
Through the rural grapevine, we were invited to come visit and harvest from the hops plants growing along the chicken-and-turkey coop of a family in Marlboro, Vermont
Flowering Milk Thistle (Silybum marianum) — a fierce herb not for the grower who is faint of heart (Windham Co., Vermont)

 

Vegetables from the Sea

This year we packed our bags again for an epic foraging and seafaring trip to visit our friend Micah, who runs the Atlantic Holdfast Company off of Deer Isle, Maine. Our visits are filled with exciting extremes, kept on our toes while clinging to rocks in crashing tides or laying back against soft grass under giant old maples as the wind runs soft fingers through the St. John’s wort. . .

One of the cabins looking out to the harbor
Periwinkles (sea snails) are can be pulled from the rocks at low tide and sauteed with garlic and olive oil for a sort of paleo-macaroni experience
Elder flowers (Sambucus canadense) and St. John’s Wort (Hypericum perforatum) drying in the barn
A small basket rack of Nori drying in the sun
Digitata (a brown kelp) drying on the outdoor racks near the barn. The alginates start to slime and ooze from the seaweeds as soon as they are harvested, so hanging the seaweed to dry can be a very goopy experience.

 

ka-bloom!

The flowers are here, folks. Please enjoy!

 

St. John’s Wort (Hypericum perforatum) abundant at Full Plate Farm (Dummerston, Vermont)
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Linden (Tilia americana), also known as Basswood, in its elegant blooms at Full Plate Farm (Dummerston, Vermont)
First cuttings for the Lay Back Cooling Bitters formula (Windham Co, Vermont)
Calendula, Chamomile, Tulsi, Red Clover . . . just sitting with these friends in the garden is often therapeutic enough (Wild Carrot Farm, Brattleboro, Vermont)
Wild Rose (Rosa rugosa) at the coast of southern Maine

 

PNW Wonderland

Tiny Pony Apothecary is on a West coast visit for the wedding of dear friends and Seattle Pride. We of course have spent lots of time in the woods and at the shore. . .

Thimbleberries (Rubus parviflorus) looking an awful lot like red blood cells. I hear the PNW is a favored locale for certain light-sensitive blood-sipping members of the community . . .
White Pond Lily (Nymphaea odorata) is a long-used remedy for hot dry inflammatory conditions in the pelvic bowl and ovo-uterine system.

June Botanical Adventuring

Tiny Pony Apothecary has been enjoying a lovely visiting to the beaches, marshes, bogs, and mountains of the Southeast. Check out some of the friends visited in the Blue Ridge Mountains of Western North Carolina and the lowcountry of South Carolina.

Storm rolling out leaving floodwaters behind (Ashley River, SC)
Mimosa (Albizzia julibrissen) blooming in the yard (Charleston, SC)
Gotu kola (Centella asiatica) harvested from the yard of the house I grew up in (Charleston, SC)
Gotu kola (Centella asiatica) harvested from the yard  (Charleston, SC)
Gingko biloba, a very old genus of tree (Marion Square, downtown Charleston, SC)
Gingko biloba, a very old genus of tree (Marion Square, downtown Charleston, SC)
Making a flower essence of Magnolia grandiflora (Charleston, SC)
Making a flower essence of Magnolia grandiflora (Charleston, SC)
Flame Azalea in full bloom,  Craggy Gardens, NC
Flame Azalea in full bloom, Craggy Gardens, NC
Hawthorn (Crataegus spp) in flower at Craggy Gardens on the Blue Ridge Parkway
Hawthorn (Crataegus spp) in flower at Craggy Gardens on the Blue Ridge Parkway
saskatoon, serviceberry, shadbush, chuckly pear. . . so many names for the 20 species of Amelanchier
saskatoon, serviceberry, shadbush, chuckly pear. . . so many names for the 20 species of Amelanchier
juneberries!
juneberries!
Sunset in Transylvania county
Sunset in Transylvania county
Golden Yarrow at the UNCA Botanical Gardens
Golden Yarrow at the UNCA Botanical Gardens

 

 

The Growing & Foraging Season Begins

Hi friends~  Tiny Pony Apothecary will be documenting the plants in the gardens and wilds that we cultivate and harvest for medicine-making and pleasure. We’d love to have you follow our journey this season. . .

Bluets (Houstonia caerulea) are a subtle body medicine as a flower essence for offering fresh perspective to the jaded mind, soothing comfort in crowded situations, and support for the journeys of grieving and loss. (Windham Co, Vermont)
Bluets (Houstonia caerulea) are a subtle body medicine as a flower essence for offering fresh perspective to the jaded mind, soothing comfort in crowded situations, and support for the journeys of grieving and loss. (Windham Co, Vermont)
Milk Thistle sprouting in the green house! (Dummerston, Vermont)
Milk Thistle sprouting in the green house! (Dummerston, Vermont)
Pineapple Weed/Wild Chamomile (Putney, Vermont)
Pineapple Weed/Wild Chamomile (Putney, Vermont)
Dandelions (Taraxacum officinale) are physiological medicine for the liver as well as subtle body medicine for those of us who could stand a little less doing and a little more being, less planning and more waiting for the unfolding. (Windham Co., Vermont)
Dandelions (Taraxacum officinale) are physiological medicine for the liver as well as subtle body medicine for those of us who could stand a little less doing and a little more being, less planning and more waiting for the unfolding. (Windham Co., Vermont)

Sour for Spring

As some of you have read before on this blog, I am a freelance writer and Associate Academy Educator at the Herbal Academy, an online herbal education project that holds SO MUCH awesome information and hosts amazing resources. In addition to plant monographs and articles for the Herbarium, I also contribute to the blog. Check out my newest exploration of herbs, the human palate, and coming out of winter — Sour Flavor: How Taste Can Rinse Out Winter.

 

 

Today the equinox came, sandwiched between two watery eclipses spanning Pisces and Aries, bracing us inside this liminal space, a transition to spring and return of growing, a day awash in both strong bright light and cold brisk winds. Watching through the windows at breakfast, standing in the greenhouse sprinkling soft rains on my flats of tiny green starts, I could feel a dragon stirring in the ground beneath my boots.

Follow the link to read the full article!