Burdock & Rose

wildly-crafted plant tales from herbalist, forager & author lisa rose

On Writing “Midwest Foraging”

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There’s nothing quite like the feeling of seeing your new book for the first time. As a mom, it’s sort of like seeing your newborn child – mixed emotions of excitement and uncertainty and relief and nervousness all combined.

The day my book arrived, I was writing at my desk at home, not expecting a package. When I opened the door, I realized it was my book in that plain envelop. In urgency, I called after the UPS man to wait because I didn’t want to open the package and see the book for the first time alone. We opened it together (funny thing, sharing such an intimate moment with a complete stranger), he was impressed and said, “You must know a lot about plants to write such a big book.” I didn’t know what to say – simply hugged him and said thank you for staying and delivering my book today, and that it meant a lot for his kind words.

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The author’s blurry selfie the moment the book arrived.

I returned back to my desk alone to savor those first moments with my text. As I flipped through the pages, memories and images of me producing the book flashed across my mind.

As I flipped through the pages of my newly minted work, I was somewhat in awe. In part, in awe because 1) I produced another book, 2) I produced another book despite all that was happening in my life around me.  I saw that in that book was my life embedded in print. From childhood to adulthood, my learnings, my relationships and most of all – my relationship with the earth — all of these were embedded into the pages.

Writing Midwest Foraging spanned two years from signing the contract with Timber Press in 2013 – one year writing, photography and one year of editing and publication. Those two years happened to span the most two difficult years of my life. I wrapped up a divorce, sat by my father’s side in the ICU until his death at home in hospice, up-rooted my gardens and moved across town, and abandoned running to nurse a blown disc. It was an epic time in my life, but in that time, I was surrounded by the most amazing people to help me through the tough stuff and to produce my book.

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Each of of my experiences with both people and plants have helped make Midwest Foraging possible. And albeit intense, I would not change any of it.

Now, these are more existential musings than musings of plants and wild edibles. Working with the plants have taught me so much – they’ve helped me grapple with the cycles of life and death, find peace in the struggle and offer hope in moments of the unknown and despair. The wild plants hold the keys to our past and can unlock the doors to our future if we choose to sit and watch and listen and pay attention.

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Of the more bittersweet moments, the finished piece that arrived after my father’s passing and the dedication in his memory.

For this reason, I’ve begun describing my writing as part botanical field guide, part culinary treatise and part memoir. The wild flavors of plants that I describe in Midwest Foraging are not the same as the flavors in the grocery store. They are real and vibrant. They are raw and unfettered. The wild plants reflect the diversity of experiences in life – the bitter and the sweet.

Embracing the wild tastes of the wild plants help me embrace the wildness of life. The wild tastes awaken all my senses, and encourage me to be fearless and enjoy life’s spectrum of experiences more fully and appreciate all that the journey has to offer.

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The author, excited to walk into the Chicago Tribune Tower to talk with a reporter about the book. Full on stoke, excited for the possibilities.

So with that, I share with you Midwest Foraging and invite you to fearlessly step into the world on your own wild journey. And may you embrace each moment of living in the not knowing, living with hope and excitement as to what may be around the next bend.

Midwest Foraging is available at your favorite local bookshop, online at major retailers like amazon.com or can be procured directly through me – I’ll sign it and ship it off to you with wild plant love inside the envelop.  For retail or bulk sales inquires, contact Tina Parent, tina.parent@storey.comFor media inquiries, contact author Lisa Rose, lisa.marlene.rose@gmail.com or Timber Press publicist, Bethany Onsgard at bonsgard@timberpress.com.

Wild Gardens in the Windy City

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During a weekend of work and play in Chicago, I made my way down the stairs on Wacker to the riverfront for a morning walk. Musing about the layers of the city and metal beams my partner commented, “Chicago is a city built of steel with 3 dimensions.”

I thought more about that statement in relation to the environment- the three dimensions. The stark contrast of metal and concrete to the blues of the harbor and green of the gardens and uncultivated weeds. The intersection of plants and human development. How the plants are persistent, and how humans are affected – or affect – this presence. How nature expresses itself. How we express humanity toward nature in the city.

As we walked, I took note of the blooming lindens along the Chicago riverfront, the lambs-quarters popping up in newly sown grasses. The plantain edging the sidewalk and the succulent chickweed encroaching on the roses in a private garden bed.

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Through Millennium Park I walked and stopped, walked and stopped. In part for my own rest and to just watch other visitors around me fall into a comfortable relaxation among the plants. I appreciated the park staff’s integration of my favorite wild plants like elderberry in the formal gardens of Millennium Park.

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For a city of its size, Chicago has a refreshing abundance and intentional focus on green space and greening initiatives- from the new garden spaces (including edibles!!) in many of the municipal parks to the secret gardens and spaces across the city maintained by city residents. Green space is valued by Chicagoans.

Finishing the walk, I left the manicured gardens of Millennium Park and turned back toward the riverfront to climb the metal stairway to back up to the hotel.  I looked down at my feet, paying attention to the weedy plants along the alley and intersection. But then I stopped.

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Among the weedy plants, I noticed a small sign that said “Look Out For Plants.”

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Then another sign, “Please don’t walk here.”

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And another, “Fire Department Garden.”

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Sure enough, alongside my favorite wild weeds of burdock, dandelions, lambs-quarters and wild carrot were squashes and cucumbers planted in the spaces between a vacant lot and a sidewalk.

Beneath the cacophony of the steel overpass structure there was the human effort to cultivate nourishment in a small space of vacant land. The paper garden signs were a small request for people to be mindful and pay attention to these efforts. All offered quietly planted with loving tenderness.

I don’t know the front or backstory behind these plants – though I am curious. But less important than the story was that this small, cultivated space contrasted among the persistent wild, weedy plants and vacant lot did make me stop and take pause in appreciation for the humanity of the gesture.

It’s the simple things. Take notice. Care for what’s around us. Plant seeds. Even in places where you think no one will notice. Perhaps those are the best places to root your efforts.

Poison Ivy & Favorite Herbal Remedies

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Poison ivy (Toxicodendron radicans) is a common invasive plant across the Midwest, found in damp riverbeds, woodlands, trailsides, sand dunes, and open fields. The poison ivy is abundant this year – finally leafing out and growing in large stands in backyards, along trails and carpeting the woods, keeping the morel mushroom hunters at bay and irritating gardeners who want it eliminated from their cultivated garden beds.

“Leaves of three, let them be” may be a good start to identifying poison ivy, but the plant takes many shapes and if you only look for leaves of three, then you will also be avoiding plants like the raspberries and the roses. Poison ivy has compound leaves in sets of 3-5, with outside asymmetrical leaves and a middle leaf that is symmetrical that alternate along a woody stalk.

When the leaves first appear in the spring, they can be a soft or shiny purple leaf than changes to green over the season. It can be a small creeping plant, or the stalk can also be a thick, hairy vine that winds up and along tree trunks and buildings.  Poison ivy produces inedible berries in the fall, and its hairy vine can be identifiable in winter. It can be easily confused with box elder, whose leaves are also compound but are opposite along the stem.

Poison Ivy & The Gardener

To the surprise of many, I actually admire poison ivy for it’s ability to mark territory and protect lands from trespassing or overuse. It was once told to me that poison ivy was given to us humans when we started to forget to say “Thank You” for the abundance of the earth’s blessings. This makes sense – poison ivy doesn’t pull down vegetation like the bittersweet vine, rather it creates a blockade causing humans to step back. Poison ivy protects the land while allowing it to regenerate.

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Next time you see a large plant of poison ivy with runners all along a piece of land, take a step back and consider what is going on with the area’s ecology. Is it trying to heal itself from overuse? Is it an area that gets a lot of human traffic that needs to be limited? Something to consider, and perhaps help shift your perspective on the role of poison ivy in our environments.

Frequently I am asked how to manage the plant in gardens and in landscaping. And my answer is that I usually don’t feel a need to remove poison ivy, rather learn to identify and avoid it (those that are highly allergic never like this response, but nonetheless, I feel it’s a more realistic strategy than trying to aggressively remove the plant from the yard).

A Few Favorite Remedies for Poison Ivy

Invariably, folks that enjoy the outdoors – especially in springtime before the plant fully leafs out – will come into contact with poison ivy. There are a lot of homemade remedies to help care for the aggravating wet, weepy rash, and I list a few of mine below. Take note, that oil-based preparations should be avoided with poison ivy as it can worsen the rash.  For those with serious allergies, a visit to your MD sometimes is the most prudent course of action.

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Rose Vinegar One of my first aid kit must-haves is a rose-infused vinegar in a spray bottle – which is great for poison ivy rashes. A rose-infused vinegar is useful in the herbal apothecary for topical skin infections, abrasions, burns and rashes.

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Rose petals infusing in apple cider vinegar to make a spray to astringe the wet and weepy rash of poison ivy.

Preparations of rose – teas, liniments or soaks – are naturally astringent and antimicrobial can be used topically as a skin wash to cool and soothe inflammation. Vinegar – especially the naturally fermented apple cider vinegar – can also be used to wash and astringe the skin, especially conditions that are wet and weepy caused by rashes like poison ivy (it can also be used directly on the leaves and vines to help force it back from an area you are trying to clear).

Together – the rose petals extracted in vinegar -makes an awesome vinegar-based wash that is so very soothing on poison ivy inflicted skin. Simply infuse the vinegar with the rose petals and leaves (fresh or dry works), let steep for a week, strain and add to a spray bottle. Keep refrigerated, and mist skin as needed. Also perfect to soothe a summer sunburn.

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Echinacea is useful for topical and septic infections like poison ivy.

Echiancea Echinacea is an excellent herb to help support the immune system’s response to septic infections.  It can be used topically as a preparation of tea (strained, cooled to room temperature) to wash the wet and weepy skin infection of poison ivy. It should also be taken internally as a tea or tincture to support the immune system’s response to the plant.

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Jewelweed is a useful plant to apply topically to areas of skin that have been exposed to poison ivy.

Jewelweed  Jewelweed is a tall succulent annual plant that sometimes grows densely like ground cover. Its root system is shallow and its hollow stalk a neon translucent green, growing about 3 to 5 feet tall. The plant is very juicy when crushed, and makes a wonderful topical poultice to apply to areas that have had contact with poison ivy, but the skin hasn’t had any eruptions. Jewelweed can also be made as a tea for a skin wash. For use throughout the season the plant can be frozen into ice cube trays for later use, or even incorporated into handmade oatmeal soap recipes for a poison ivy wash.

Of course, soaking in a tub of oatmeal water still works to soothe the itch, as does Mom’s calamine lotion. It also helps to reduce the metabolic load on the system while the body fights off the reaction – this means eliminating alcohol, sugar, refined carbs and coffee. This just opens up more bandwidth to help the body clear up on its own. Lymphatics like red root or cleavers can really help with this process.

Further reading

Jim McDonald’s treatise on poison ivy can watched here.

Eat the Weeds: Strawberry-Knotweed Pie


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Yup I said it. Pie.

Who said foraging and eating wild edibles was all about tree barks in tea and wild and bitter leaves in salads?? Us foragers also love a really yummy PIE! {which that’s not to discount the barks or bitters, btw}.

We all know and love a good strawberry-rhubarb pie in the month of June, when the wild berries are ripe or are getting big and juicy in the garden. But did you know that the invasive Japanese knotweed (Polygonum cuspidatum) can be transformed into a delicious strawberry pie with a similar flavor?

Japanese knotweed is at the top of nearly all of the invasive plant “Most Wanted” lists. It has virtually no known predator, other than foragers, to keep its spread in check. The Japanese knotweed spreads voraciously, lining ditches, streambeds, and woodland fields where there is damp soil. To find a stand of the Japanese knotweed, look for tall stalks left from the previous year as their woody, jointed stems last well into the next season. 

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Large stands of Japanese knotweed are fast growing and can reach heights of over 10 feet tall.

The perennial Japanese knotweed’s woody, bamboo-like leafy stalks grow in dense stands, towering in heights up to 10 feet. The new shoots emerge in early spring and are hollow and jointed with red flecks at the joints along the stem. The leaves are heart-shaped, bright green, and arranged alternately along the stem. The plant goes to flower in late summer into early fall, producing feathery clusters of dainty white blossoms.

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The tender stalks of Japanese knotweed (Polygonum cuspidatum) are best gathered in the spring and then stripped of leaves and used in pies, compotes and fruit jams.

The early spring shoots are crunchy with a tart, citrusy flavor similar to that of spring rhubarb. Its bright flavors make for a tart simple syrup, good for use in cocktail recipes. The larger stalks can be prepared as you would use rhubarb (unless you are cooking them, then the stalks soften significantly) in summer fruit compotes, jams, or pies. Because the fruit ripens much later than when you harvest Japanese knotweed, its stalks can be chopped and then frozen for later use.

While delicious and edible, many landscape companies and parks management protocols include using agressive herbicides on the plant to stunt its growth. So, be sure the area where you harvest hasn’t been treated with an herbicide meant to eradicate the plant. Look at surrounding vegetation for visible signs of plant burn, or ask the landowner or park manager about herbicide treatment.

One of my favorite Japanese knotweed & berry combo is in a strawberry rhubarb pie. While the strawberries from the garden aren’t ready yet here in the Midwest, the addition of the invasive Japanese knotweed was a delightful “re-wilding” of the grocery-store berries of May coming in from down south and out west (do choose organic – it matters!!).

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A Forager’s Strawberry-Knotweed Pie

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Blend ingredients in a mixing bowl for the filling and add to the prepared pie pan. Bake for 50 minutes until the filling begins to gel and the crust turns a golden brown. Serve with heaping spoonfuls of whipping cream, creme fraiche or vanilla ice cream. Garnish with lavender blossoms for a delightful herbal top note.

You will need: 

(1) 9″ pie pan and crust, pan buttered

For filling: 

4 cups strawberries

2 cups trimmed Japanese knotweed stalks

3/4 cups white sugar

1/4 cup cornstarch

1/4 tsp salt

For Mother’s Day.

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To the mothers who are also wives, ex-wives, widows, girlfriends, professionals who work out of the house, professionals who work in the home, daughters, grandmothers, sisters, caretakers, and/or insert label here: Take time to remember who you are this weekend.

Strip away the labels you’ve given yourself or allowed others to give you. Pare down to the essentials. Consider YOU and your identity. Remember your goals, your visions, your purpose and dreams for this life, regardless of age.

Children only remain children for so long. Families only need us in the caretaker capacity for a certain duration of time. Careers shift and change. Partners may change, leave or even die.

But at the center of it is you. Carve out time to consider that. Sit with it. Say hello to yourself and give yourself the hug you deserve that simply can’t come from anyone else.

Revisit the promises you’ve made for you and your future, and make new commitments to yourself. Beyond this Mother’s Day, strive to meet your own expectations.

The young people around us will come and go and have their own lives to manage eventually. But for us? We will be with ourselves until the end of time.

Consider this permission to do a bit of self-mothering this weekend. Because before we were moms, we were ourselves.

Pull, Eat, Repeat: The Invasive Garlic Mustard

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Tender basal rosettes of the first year plant of garlic mustard are a delicious, spring wild edible. Harvest it now to eat and also to prevent spread of this invasive plant.

Abundant at the forest’s edge, along roadsides, and on river floodplains, garlic mustard is deemed by many as a noxious, invasive species that chokes out native vegetation. But we mustn’t forget that garlic mustard is also a highly nutritious spring green.

An invasive species like garlic mustard is a wonderful early spring staple in the forager’s kitchen — it makes a delicious and utilitarian pesto. We can help minimize the plant’s invasiveness in native habitats while providing nourishment at the table by incorporating it into regular mealtime.

The earliest appearance of garlic mustard was recorded in the mid-1800s on the Atlantic coast. High in vitamin C and a nutritious bitter green, it is believed to have been brought by settlers to the area of Long Island, N.Y., for food and medicinal purposes. Since that time, garlic mustard has spread south and west and has wreaked havoc on natural areas throughout the eastern United States, particularly in disturbed areas within fields, floodplains, and woodlands across the Midwest.

Garlic mustard thrives on disturbed land and areas under development. It is a winter-hardy biennial plant and can reproduce lightning fast in its second year, able to produce hundreds of seeds once it goes to flower. Once the plant sets its seed, the seeds can remain viable in the soil for many years. 

Frequently, the entire plant is pulled before it goes to flower to help maintain control of the garlic mustard’s population. Try to work clean in removing the plant from the soil, as this will mean less soil to remove in the kitchen. If you don’t remove the entire plant and only want to gather the leaves, kitchen shears can easily trim the edible greens. The stems are best harvested before the flower buds appear or open. Trim these succulent stalks of their leaves and discard the leaves before cooking.

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A versatile garlic mustard pesto for flatbreads, pastas and crackers. A delicious way to eat the weedy invasive species!

One of the most popular ways to prepare garlic mustard greens is as a versatile, delicious pesto. Pesto recipes can be adjusted (the lovely thing about pesto!) to suit personal taste preferences and the flavor of the garlic mustard that is being harvested. Want to prepare a large batch? Pesto can be made without the nuts and frozen into ice-cube sized portions that will last for several months until the local basil is ready for harvest. Add the nuts later, when are ready to serve the dish.

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Flatbreads featuring garlic mustard pesto and locally grown mushrooms.

The pesto can be added to pasta, used in soups (like a French soupe au pistou), served on crackers with cheese as an elegant appetizer, or even used as a base for a wild foods pizza of local morels, homemade soft cheese, and wild onion. In other dishes, partner garlic mustard with complimentary flavors like parsley, walnuts, and lemon to suit your palate.

Basic Foraged Greens & Garlic Mustard Pesto

4 cups leaves, stems of Garlic Mustard (washed)

1 cup wild chives

1 cup wild garlic scapes

1 cup parsley (if desired)

1 cup walnuts

4 TBSP coconut oil

1tsp sea salt, pepper, squirt of lemon juice to taste

Add all to food processor, puree.  Check flavor, add parsley, salt, pepper to preferred taste. Serve over crackers, on pizza, pasta, soup… the ideas are limitless and the pesto can be used in similar ways to traditional basil pesto.

“Rampant” Overharvesting: Digging Too Deep for Wild Leeks

 

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Wild leeks (Allium tricoccum) are an early spring delicacy for foragers. Clip the top greens only for sustainable harvesting.

An early spring ephemeral, the wild leek—or ramps—is an aromatic, delicious wild onion. The bulb sweetens when roasted, pickles well for martinis, and has tops that are delicious as garnish or incorporated into a spring salad.

While they may seem to carpet the floor of the woods in the spring, there is growing concern for overharvesting wild leeks for the restaurant market and by hobby foragers. 

Regionally, wild leeks are distributed as far east as New York State and through Canada, west into the forests of Wisconsin and Minnesota, and south into Appalachia. Wild leeks are plentiful in the well-drained soil of beech and maple hardwood forests along rivers and on the back dunes along the Great Lakes shoreline. The broad leaves of the wild leek are frequently found alongside unfolding mayapples and trout lily.

Recently, the wild leek (Allium tricoccum) has been the forager’s darling, showing up on menus and in farmers’ markets. This increase in popularity is putting pressure on the wild leek population along the East Coast and has the potential to do so in the Midwest. It takes about three years for a seed to develop into a mature leek ready for harvest—a long time!

It takes about 18 months for a ramp seed to germinate, and another two years for that seed to grow into a small bulb** that sprouts two broad, smooth leaves of about 6 to 8 inches in length and 2 to 3 inches across. A sizable, mature bulb should be at least 3 years old or more.  In midsummer, the plant sends up a flower stalk with a white flower cluster which then bears small, round 1/8-inch seeds.

But harvest with care: recent popularity has threatened it.

The bulbs can be easily dug with a garden fork, but only harvest the full plant in moderation. The most sustainable way to enjoy the wild leek is to only clip the tops for use in cooking. Take time to first learn the distribution of leeks in the area before harvesting, and chose to harvest tops only.

Transplanting wild bulbs within the wild can help expand stands of the plant. Also, local growers are beginning to propagate the wild leeks for private forest gardens, making this a sustainable option for the forager wishing to enjoy the bulbs in the early spring.

I won’t lie: I really love ramps. But unless we take some pressure off of the wild plant populations, we will ensure their demise. Helping ensure a good foraging ethic is an important part of cultivating a sustainable local food system.

To that end, cultivate your own stands of wild leeks to ensure a small harvest each year.  Be sure to inquire at markets and at restaurants as to the forager’s sourcing and practices in gathering the wild leeks. In doing so, you can enjoy this delicious spring vegetable and help ensure patches of leeks in the wild can also be enjoyed by future generations.

For a more information on sustainable harvesting of wild leeks, view this recent article in Epicurious.

The wild leek is a early spring bulb that is markedly oniony in both flavor and scent. This early spring food could easily be mistaken with the false hellebore and lily of the valley, both of which are poisonous and neither of which smells or tastes like onion. If in doubt, scratch and sniff.

Think Little This Earth Day

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Pointing out the small spring shoots of Solomon’s Seal.

In the spirit of Earth Day, I think of the small actions and the power each of us has to effect positive change on the Earth, its land and all its inhabitants. Sometimes the problems we face as a planet and species seems insurmountable, but deep down, I truly believe we each have the power to make change.

Question is, where to start? We need to start with ourselves. Being open to see our relationship with the world and how we view the resources around us. How can we live more in tandem with the cycles of nature – in business, at home, in our personal lives. Can we be honest with ourselves, asking truly how do our actions impact others across the Earth? These are tough and uncomfortable questions.

I am not perfect and enjoy many creature comforts life affords me in the realm in which I live. But I do need to ask – how can I be a better steward of all I have to support me in my life? How can I do more with less? How can I listen to the Earth and better mimic the cycles of rest, growth, death and regeneration?

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I am seeing a growing groundswell of interest in learning the wild, edible plants.

I know I am not alone in asking these questions. It pleases me that more and more people are paying attention to these questions – questions that aren’t new, but are absolutely still relevant. When 40 people show up to my wild edibles classes, I start to realize that just like the growth of the local food movement, there is a growing groundswell of interest in the bigger picture of the natural world around us.

I offer inspiration from an essay by Wendell Berry called “Think Little” (from A Continuous Harmony: Essays Cultural & Agricultural reprinted in the Whole Earth Catalog, 1969).

“If we are to hope to correct our abuses of each other and of other races and of our land, and if our effort to correct these abuses is to be more than a political fad that will in the long run be only another form of abuse, then we are going to have to go far beyond public protest and political action. We are going to have to rebuild the substance and the integrity of private life in this country. We are going to have to gather up the fragments of knowledge and responsibility that we have parceled out to the bureaus and the corporations and the specialists, and we are going to have to put those fragments back together again in our own minds and in our families and households and neighborhoods. We need better government, no doubt about it. But we also need better minds, better friendships, better marriages, better communities. We need persons and households that do not have to wait upon organizations, but can make necessary changes in themselves, on their own.” ~Wendell Berry, 1969

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Sharing love for Motherwort.

I teach about wild plants and their role in our lives because its a forum that helps me better understand both myself and the place in which I live. Studying both plants and their ecosystems are models that can show me how to live a truly rich life. If I pay attention.

We are realizing that the answers we seek are already around us. If we pay attention. If we take action.

 

 

*photos by Megan Smith. 2015

The Roots of My Practice

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Maya healer and wonderful friend, Don Daniel Pool-pech. Tulum, MX

“If you don’t do the work of the heart, then you will always have pain.” ~ Don Daniel, Maya plant friend in Tulum MX, 2015.

I traveled to Tulum first in 2009, the first of what began as many trips to the Yucatan and the beginning of a love affair with such a magical place.  It was on that trip that I met an herbalist from Colorado – Shelley Torgrove where she introduced me to her Maya teacher and plant healer, Don Daniel Poolpech.

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Don Daniel and Shelley Torgrove, Tulum MX.

 

At the time of that trip, I was between “careers” … I had recently left my work as the director of our local nature center, which included leaving the small nonprofit I had founded called Mixed Greens (we created school gardens to teach nutrition education programming to urban schoolkids). I had no idea what I wanted to do. I was doing some food systems consulting, but that wasn’t tugging at my heart-strings. My children were little, then-husband commuting to Ghana (yes, Africa) and I was needed at home. NGO work had burned me out, having babies had sucked me dry — I was fried. And I was only turning 30.

I remember telling a farmer friend of mine I was so tired that I couldn’t even bother clearing away the leaves from my garden. His reply – maybe you shouldn’t. Maybe you should sit and listen to the plants. In Tulum – and upon meeting Shelley – I said out loud, “I want to work with plants as an herbalist” (even though I had no idea what that even meant – and still don’t haha). I just ~knew~ that being an herbalist was my calling.

Don Daniel, seeing how anxious I was (about everything) gave me blessings and a strong sedative tea. He told me (in Spanish) to drink it, as it’d help heal my stomach, clear my head and open my heart. Then he sent me back north to begin my path as an herbalist…

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Vinca blanca, an ingredient for my tea from the garden of Don Daniel in Tulum, MX.

Now 2015, I went to him with gratitude and humility and prayers for clarity and strength as I begin this next chapter in my life.

Don Daniel took me into his garden to harvest plants for my medicines and taught me their names. I dried the plants in my window of my rental car, as an impromptu solar dryer. Plant medicines for my own healing, to carry with me as I head back north to continue along the path.  Hopeful. Softer. Less anxious. Focused. And free. There’s healing power inherent in gathering your own medicines.

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My visit with Don Daniel in 2015

My plan is to return to Tulum within the year with my own students, to introduce people to the culture, food and herbal traditions of the Yucatan. We will stay in Tulum with locals, ride bikes, swim at the beach, dive into cenotes, eat nourishing foods and learn a bit from Don Daniel’s ways of Maya healing. It will be adventure of rest, renewal and growth. Look for an invitation soon to join me on a trip in May of 2016.

For now, I am partnering with Shelley on a fall excursion in Maya healing with Don Daniel. Interested? Take a look at Shelley’s website, Artemisia & Rue for the October 2015 excursion. We’d love to have you join us.

A Herbalist’s Pilgrimage to Tulum

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The Ruins of Tulum, MX 2015

Tulum has always held a special place in my heart. My first visit was in 2009 and I instantly fell in love with her people, ruins, beaches, city and plants.

Since that time I’ve made many visits around the Yucatan – Merida, Valladolid – all lovely places with unique personality. So in choosing all places to visit again, I chose Tulum.

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Sipping coco frios at the Ruins. Tulum 2009

This trip to Tulum was special. I was alone, with dictionary in hand. Sort of a soul-searching trip with not much on the books save for rest, eating, beach and plant study with my Maya friend and teacher Don Daniel.

I came down here again to recognize my own transformation over the years and the beauty of growing into my skin – despite all the heartache and pain of moving through that ever changing life of our’s. I needed to be able to document it for me as a reminder that life molds us like clay. And that we are shaped by so many people and experiences and not to push away any of it but embrace it. Pull it closer.

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Same place. Same Chacos. Older, wiser (up for debate). Definitely softer and open to new beginnings. Tulum 2015

I needed to see for myself that I didn’t push any of it away- but rather embraced the challenges over the past years, survived and am vital and full of life. No matter how painful it is to go into the darkness, dig deep and find the source of what really makes “us.” Put those roots deeper into the earth. Add water. Soil. Sun. Grow.

Appropriately enough, Tulum in Maya is translated as New Beginnings.

I traveled to the ocean to wash away the detritus of the past few years with the salt water beneath the ruins. To release myself from the strangling anxiety and to be open to new experiences for the future, to reconnect with the plants that first called me to be an herbalist.

To find rest and renewal and encouragement, to dig deep and be courageous to “live in the not knowing” – as Don Draper would say.

To be free.

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Sometimes, you get the signs you need. In English. Tulum, MX 2015

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