Urban Herbwife

Dearie me

noreply@blogger.com (Urban Herbwife) — Mon, 05 Jan 2009 08:22:00 +0000

Oh dear, once again I have utterly failed to regularly update a blog. A litter of abandoned blogs trails in my cyber-wake, but I'm determined not to let this one follow, so let's try a different tack. The problem is that all the blogs that I admire are the 'expert' type - the grandmother blogging on herbal remedies, the thematic blogs, the blogs run by people who are handy enough with their hands to have shops on Etsy - and so I launch myself in with the wistful longing to be such an expert, when really all I am is an interested amateur. And too interested in far too many things to ever be an expert!

This week for example, I want to be able to crochet. Not learn to crochet, mind - I want to be able to do it! Herbhubby and I are in Japan with the in-laws and, wandering round bookshops (now there's something that will probably never change) I came across the Japanese craft of amigurumi, little crocheted dolls. It's nothing like the crochet my grandma tried to teach me when I was young - especially the volume I found on crocheting little dogs! Wah! So for the past few hours I've been at the desk fumbling my way through a basic granny square with the hope that I will be able to progress on to a miniature spaniel mobile phone accessory within, oh, about half an hour. Did I mention that I have a broken finger?! Talk about unrealistic. I can barely hold the wool!

So, a New Year's resolution, then - to write about things as they are, rather than as I wish them to be. I will almost certainly be the only one who ever reads this page...but that was always the case anyway. ;-)

Lost April

noreply@blogger.com (Urban Herbwife) — Wed, 07 May 2008 15:10:00 +0000

I have just realised that it's been exactly a month since I wrote anything. Not great blogging form, but then I am an all-or-nothing type of gal. Hopefully this post will mark the start of a blogging glut!

We've been busy too - Herbpuppy has being trying her best to kill the herbs in pots outside the front door (she loves lemony flavours, so everytime she goes out for a wee she has a munch - lemon balm, citrus thyme and pineapple mint, yum yum!). Sustainability isn't really at the forefront of her puppy-ish mind, sadly, and one of the thymes at least has nearly had it... She's also officially become a teenager - moody and totally refusing to listen to anything her poor parents tell her. We went to Windsor last Saturday for a beautiful walk near the castle, and she utterly disgraced herself (and us) by dive-bombing a pair of snoozing sunbathers and launching a vicious attack on a (thankfully mostly finished!) picnic. She is now on the lead at all times until further notice!

Herbhubby has been gallavanting across the country playing that most noble of sports, Ultimate Frisbee (no laughing at the back there!), and is off again this weekend, sniff sniff.

On the herbal front, things have shifted a gear with the most welcome arrival of beautiful spring. Winter in the city saw me mostly indoors, experimenting with lotions, potions and vinegars created from dried, pre-bought ingredients. It was the realisation that I didn't have the foggiest what most plants looked like alive that sent me to the Chelsea Physic Garden to volunteer. Now that the whole of London has exploded into a mess of greens, every trip outside has become an exploration. I am still in a muddle about whether to use, say, chickweed from my local part. I'm worried about pollution (both human-made and the doggy variety), but at the same time, the idea of a bit of 'urban foraging' definitely appeals...

Ah, office work should be illegal in this kind of weather!

Ouch! Witch Hazel to the rescue

noreply@blogger.com (Urban Herbwife) — Mon, 07 Apr 2008 12:56:00 +0000

I've had some Witch Hazel in my cupboard for a couple of weeks now, ready to make up an eye-wash for the Herbpuppy (cockers are notoriously susceptible to eye complaints). Yesterday it had its first outing, and it was related to the dog, but not quite in the way I had imagined!

*Warning. The following story contains an act of extreme stupidity.*

So, Herbpuppy and I were on a walk in our local park yesterday morning. We met one of her friends, a lovely chocolate labrador pup called Molly, and of course Herbpuppy wanted to beat her up (she is not known as 'The Thug' at my parents' house for nothing...). I had to take her lead off when they got entangled, as entangled leads is about number 5 on the list of Cardinal Sins For Which You Will Be Shouted At in puppy class. (Just one of about 500 things we're not supposed to do!)

Lead off became scampering, scampering turned to excessive friskiness, and friskiness lead the Thug to take advantage of an open gate and make a dash for some small children in the play area. Herbpuppy just LOVES children, and she has no conception of a world in which they don't all love her too. Anyway, I managed to distract her by calling her name and sprinting in the opposite direction. You can probably tell where this is leading.

Sprinting in slightly slippy boots + adoring but spacially unaware puppy = me, flying through the air in front of amazed children.

I have never been so happy about how close this park is as I limped home - bloody hands, bloody knee and ripped tights, desperately not to catch anyone's eye.

Thank goodness for the Witch Hazel! It worked a treat as an infusion to clean all the cuts and grazes. Boiling it up was very calming - half the point of using it, I think. Like washing the dishes and walking to work, it allows me to tap into what is known in Buddhism as 'mindfulness'; being very calmly in the present moment. A lovely little routine to regain my composure after quite a shock - much more nourishing than squeezing antiseptic cream from a tube.

Plant Spirits blog party

noreply@blogger.com (Urban Herbwife) — Wed, 02 Apr 2008 13:54:00 +0000

This is my first blog party with the wonderful women and men of herbwifery.org. This month's blog, on plant Devas, myths and spirits, is hosted by ananda at plantjourneys.

Willow speaks to me.

Since the age of nine, I’ve suffered from horrible migraines – real shaky, heart-racey, pounding, sweaty, sicky nightmares. I must have tried every drug going during my teens and early twenties, and most of them seriously disagreed with me. They were all about running as far away from the pain as possible, trying to cancel it out, denying its message. Now, in my late twenties I’ve started to listen. As often as I can (still not often enough…) I spend time with my pain. We talk, and willow acts as a calming intermediary. If I let her.

In Japan, willow trees are associated with ghosts. My husband skirts round the lonely looking one near my parents’ house, although for me she’s more wistful than spooky. She must have been able to see the nearby river, once, before all the buildings got in the way. Now she’s fenced in, a tight triangle that people using the alley seem to have decided is a rubbish tip. Her graceful lines mean she’s still beautiful, though, even when she’s dancing in a dustbin.

Willow has a strong spirit – strong enough that I can easily imagine her manifesting in such a way that people saw ‘ghosts’. She did, after all, inspire the world’s first synthetic drug (acetylasylic acid, or Aspirin) – seriously potent energy! I get the feeling, though, that she’s sad about the way things have gone; her energy stripped bare from the chemicals and disregarded. It took her years to get through to me, but get through she did; she's persistant!

So now, willow sits in my cupboard – her bark ready to be made into an infusion for aches and pains. Her lessons haven’t been easy, but they’ve been interesting. Her love of water and the moon sing to my own – hers is a powerfully feminine energy: co-operative, flowing, gentle. She won’t work on her own (she respectfully reminds me that she is not a ‘magic bullet’ to be fired indiscriminately at pain!). Instead, she says, take me early, take me with a good dose of peace and quiet, take me in cool, shady room. What is the point of helping you if you don’t help yourself? If you just want a painkiller to numb you so you can throw yourself back into situation that made you sick in the first place?

She demands respect. When I can give that respect, she helps me converse with the pain. And then when we’re all ready, she floats me to sleep.

Making friends with nettle 2

noreply@blogger.com (Urban Herbwife) — Sun, 23 Mar 2008 23:53:00 +0000

So, nettle is an excellent general blood tonic, rich in vitamins and minerals, widely-used as a good spring-clean for the system. She seemed the perfect herb to get started with.

I'm in the process of recovering from an eating problem which left me undernourished - starved, to all intents and purposes - for almost two years. When I first began the recovery process, my GP had me on calcium and iron tablets, as well as an antidepressant. I basically rattled when I walked! The iron left me all yuckily constipated, so I didn't take it nearly as often as I should, with the result that my anaemia dragged on for months. Lord, I was so tired!

Anyway, enough of that. I've weaned myself off all the prescription medicine and turned my attention to diet and lifestyle. There's a long way to go, sure, but I'm already feeling the effects.

Taking my cue from Susun Weed, my first foray with nettles was a nourishing infusion - 25g of dried nettles steeped in water over night and then sieved into a jar in the morning and stored in my fridge. So straightforward! (Well, apart from the fact that I managed to smash a jar whilst preparing it) It really appeals to my longing for simplicity in my life - a single herb, prepared in a very basic way.

Yes, I did say dried. I can't get back to my parents in the (relative to central London) countryside for a few weeks yet, and although nettles certainly do grow in the parks near the flat, there's so much dog- and foot-traffic around here that I haven't wanted to muck about with it. The very excellent herbalist Baldwins is only a short bus ride away, so I decided to to go for dried.

So far, I've been drinking the infusion four times a day, adding nettles to our miso soup in the evening, and using her as a rinse for my hair in the shower. Yes, I'm weaning myself off the shampoo! I'm getting some really good energies from her - my hair is soft, I'm feeling peppy and the infusion tastes great. It's nice to drink it cold (I've only ever had hot nettle tea before). Tomorrow, I'm going to go and sit with her in the park.

Making friends with nettle 1

noreply@blogger.com (Urban Herbwife) — Sun, 23 Mar 2008 23:39:00 +0000

This week I have been mainly eating...nettle. Eating, drinking, bathing in, and generally admiring. After much reading and thinking, I've decided that the 'one herb at a time' approach is the best way to really get to know them. When I first became interested in herbs I applied a scatter-gun method, buying every herb book I could find, trying to cram my head full of facts without much appreciation for the more subtle aspects. I guess Susun Weed would tell me off for not listening to what the plants have to say.

So hear's me, listening to the nettle. I must admit though, that I've also begun a conversation with chickweed - the herb of the month over at herbmentor.com/ They're both beautiful, simple, nourishing plants that grow on my doorstop, though, so I hope they'll forgive me.

noreply@blogger.com (Urban Herbwife) — Sun, 23 Mar 2008 01:00:00 +0000

I am a
Lily

What Flower
Are You?

Training day at the Chelsea Physic Garden

noreply@blogger.com (Urban Herbwife) — Sat, 15 Mar 2008 20:02:00 +0000

Friday was my second day of training at the Chelsea Physic Garden. I'm going to be volunteering there a couple of Sundays a month as a guide - a fantastic opportunity for me to learn about the development of medicinal plants through the ages. The CPG is a stunning, tiny botanical garden hidden amongst some of London's priciest real estate. It was established in 1673 by the Society of Apothecaries as a training garden, and thanks to the remarkable foresight of one of it's early benefactors, Sir Hans Sloane, it's still aroung today.

Even though it may not cover much square acreage, the garden is absolutely stuffed with fascinating displays. Alongside order beds and an area dedicated to Linneaus to demonstrate the development the binomial system of naming plants, there's also a pond hopping with frogs, a fab compost area (I seem to be developing a bit of a thing for compost...) and most importantly, lots of info about plants as medicine.

I was really interested division of traditional herbal remedies, herbal remedies as they are used by today's herbalist and homeopath, an aromatherapy bed and a section of pharmaceutical plants. The phamaceutical plants are divided into beds according to their usage, so wandering around oncology, dermatology, cardiology etc makes it feel a bit like walking through a hospital!

Some of the other volunteer guides have been working at the garden during the summer for over fifteen years, so the wealth of knowledge is incredible. And what's more, they're there because they love sharing their knowledge! I felt like a sponge, and when we left my head was all achey. There were probably facts dripping out of my ears.

Read it, swap it

noreply@blogger.com (Urban Herbwife) — Sat, 15 Mar 2008 19:52:00 +0000

Ok, so I am a totally late arrival to this one, but I have just found the site readitswapit, and I am in love. I am having to seriously cut back on the number of books I buy. I realised that I may have a problem when I started to hide them on the bookshelf in amongst my old books...isn't that what crazy women do with shoes and handbags? Spending money clothes and accessories have never appealed, but who can ever have enough beautiful books.

So I joined readitswap it in the hope of getting some new books without the danger of allowing myself into a bookshop unaccompanied - but it looks as though I may still be in trouble. So many books, so little time!

On the beauty of apprenticeships

noreply@blogger.com (Urban Herbwife) — Fri, 14 Mar 2008 04:21:00 +0000

Yesterday, while posting a question about the potential for herbal apprentices in the UK, (here on herbwifery.org) I went into a fugue state - and when I awoke, I discovered I had posted a burbling rant.

Now, I am a big fan of incoherency of any kind (especially the vaguely threatening kind), so I decided to ponder a little further and post it here. Lazy posting at its best!

Obtaining a herbal education in the UK is an extremely expensive undertaking, but it's what you have to do if you want to make it your life here - unlike in the US, where the tradition of lay herbalists is strong. Not that education is inherently a bad thing (I would be a uni student my whole life if I could!); it's just the costs that are prohibitive.

I'm currently saving up to go back to university for a five-year (part-time) degree in Herbal Medicine, and it's an enormous struggle. We live in London, I've already got a degree (in Japanese of all things) and so my husband and I will be paying for everything ourselves, as well as taking the drastic pay-cut I'll be getting when I look for more flexible work to fit in around my studies. And we have an extra mouth to feed now (hmm, well she's a puppy, not a baby - can't afford one of those for a good few years yet!)

But while the degree is what I need to start a career, I deeply long for an apprenticeship - I need a mentor! The relationship between teacher and student is one of the most precious relationships we can experience. I've always learnt best and deepest from a trusted teacher, because along with the facts and the knowledge comes a whole host of other gifts, including their passion for their subject.

Here in Britain we used to have a strong tradition of apprenticeship, especially in the passing of healing arts from one generation to the next. I remember, when I was about nine years old, reading a book called "A Year and a Day" (now available as "Juniper", and one of the most inspiring books a girl of that age could read, I thoroughly recommend it). It was a work of fiction, true, but I was utterly entranced by the portrait of a young girl apprenticed to an old woman, to live in a run-down hut and learn from her. What most struck me about the teaching of the old woman was that she didn't ostensibly 'teach' anything, and yet she taught a whole wealth of wisdom and ancient knowledge.

So, I guess what I'm saying is that I'm looking for someone to apprentice myself to, but I don't seem to be having any luck with that in this country. All of the honest apprenticeships I found so far (and there are several less honest ones, I think) seem to be in the US - quite a long way from London...

Cocker Spaniel looker!

noreply@blogger.com (Urban Herbwife) — Thu, 13 Mar 2008 20:44:00 +0000

What a babe

Beautiful advert (commercial)

noreply@blogger.com (Urban Herbwife) — Thu, 13 Mar 2008 19:29:00 +0000

Indulge me. I saw this ad for the first time a couple of days ago and call me sentimental, call me an advertiser's bi-atch, but it actually brought tears to my eyes. I can see a sequel with the Herbpuppy; singing her heart out and swaggering one moment, and all big-eyed, cowering behind me the next!

Delicious goya

noreply@blogger.com (Urban Herbwife) — Wed, 12 Mar 2008 06:25:00 +0000

Another string to the Okinawan's bow must surely be their love of this nobbley thing - goya, the gourd that hit all the branches on the way down the ugly tree, and ended all warty!

Goya (Momordica charantia) is massively bitter, and when I first tried it (under duress), it reminded me of nothing so much as that stuff my mum used to paint on my nails to stop me from chewing them when I was little.

Give it time, though, and the taste grows on you. After about two months, I stopped picking it out of my champuru. Champuru is an Okinawan word meaning 'mixture', a kind of stir-fry, I guess. There's a beautiful picture of a yummy looking goya champuru on the Okinawa Index. The star of goya champuru is goya, of course, but most dishes I tried included various of the following: egg, tofu, veggies and Spam. Honestly, the amount of Spam consumed in Okinawa is mind-boggling (introduced by the Americans in WWII, and still going strong); maybe it's the real secret of Okinawan longevity?!

Back to the goya. After six months, I was eating it raw in salads and enjoying the flavour - even though it still reminded me of the nail-varnish. It may be addictive...

More importantly, goya is packed full of vitamin C (four times as much as a lemon)- but even more interestingly, recent research shows that it acts as a hypoglycaemic agent. In other words, it lowers blood sugar levels. Have a look at this article to find out more.

With a diabetic (Type II) uncle and aunt on my father's side, and grandmother on my mother's side, this is really a pertinent discovery. The only problem is - where to get goya in London? It seems to be quite widely available across Asia (I was served it in the Phillipines), but I doubt you could cultivate it here...Any ideas?

It's also being touted across Japan as a diet aid, but then practically everything in Japan is touted as a diet aid at one time or another (including the now famous natto incident), so I shall be taking that with a pinch of salt.

Mooncup

noreply@blogger.com (Urban Herbwife) — Mon, 10 Mar 2008 18:09:00 +0000

I spent lunchtime today buying myself a new Mooncup. I was looking a little wistfully at their site earlier, wondering if I should risk getting a new one (my last one, like many of my things, mysteriously vanished). You can them in Boots, now, though - not sure why that made a difference, but I am quite impatient and subconsciously I don't think I could be bothered to wait for one to arrive in the post. I should probably work on that.

A Mooncup is a beautiful thing. I have reasonably heavy periods and in mid-flow I can end up like a surgeon, covered in gore and running out of tissue...not a particularly pleasant state to be in! And then there's the worry of leaking, and the sheer discomfort of towels (or tampons, which I've never taken to, for that matter). Trying desperately not to scratch in public makes for some great facial expressions.

The Mooncup is made of silicone and lasts for years (unless you lose it). It's easy to keep clean, you don't leak, Mother Earth will love you for it (ahem, unless you lose it). It's economical (unless...well, you get the picture) and most of all, it allows you to celebrate your menstrual fluid instead of mopping them up and feeling like an extra in a Hammer Horror.

As one woman quoted on the site says, you feel like you should use it to create a piece of art. All that beautiful crimson transubstantiated into an essence of woman-ness. Hold it up to the light for a true stained-glass vision!

I need to say thank you again to the friend who told me about them in the first place. Thanks Em. These things spread by word of women. The assistant today hadn't heard of them when I asked, and seemed fascinated by the idea. She looked a but worried when I told her my last one was missing - I had to reassure her that I wasn't wearing it at the time! When I left she was still looking at the packet. Finger's crossed.

http://www.mooncup.co.uk/

Today's new discovery: A community of women dedicated to spreading the word!
http://community.livejournal.com/menstrual_cups

Micro-composting

noreply@blogger.com (Urban Herbwife) — Mon, 10 Mar 2008 13:28:00 +0000

On Saturday, mum and I went to the very beautiful Hyde Hall for their 'Grow Your Own Veg' Open Day. We were late and so missed the farmers' market (In London they seem to be everywhere these days, so I wasn't too disappointed), but we were just in time to enter the raffle. And we won first prize! A massive box of delicious veg from the display, including the largest parsnip I have ever seen. We are currently feasting on a fantastic winter 'stewp' (our family's patented soup/stew hybrid), thank you veg gardeners!

Anyway, apart from the unexpected win and the absolutely terrifying field full of scarecrows - and I mean full! - made by visitors during the half-term break, my eye was taken by the display of composting bins. In particular, this little beauty: the Bokashi Bucket Kitchen Composter.

Being an Urban Herbwife, we don't have a garden, see - we have windowsills, a communal paved area out front, and sneaky bits of unloved dirt by the road. So the Bokashi Bucket is the perfect size, and even better, you can put in cooked food as well as raw!

When we do eventually move somewhere with a garden, though, I'll definitely be having a go at building one of these:
Life has taught us ...: Green Tips: Build Your Own Digester
What a fabulous idea!

Hibernation

noreply@blogger.com (Urban Herbwife) — Sun, 09 Mar 2008 17:12:00 +0000

On days like this I feel how profoundly out of sync I am with the rhythmns of the modern world. Rhythms of life which presumably suit most men (and some women too?) feel alien and restrictive.

Today is Sunday; given over to rest, relaxation and getting over your hangover. By chance, I am feeling tired and run-down. It's the first day of my period, meaning my legs are leaden, my back aches and my energy levels are at their lowest monthly ebb. I also have a cold, so times all that by 10 and you have a bloomin' good reason to hibernate. Being a Sunday, that's ok. No one can see my no-makeup face, no-product hair, or grubby jeans. No one gives a hoot that for most of the day I've been slumped, expressionless, or that the five minute walk to the shop early left me feeling exhausted and unable to undertake anything more strenuous than a long, hot bath. And what a bath it was! Divine.

But what if today had been a Thursday? With a cycle that follows the moon, believe me, it often is. In fact I'm amazed that we've ever hit an official day of rest - I always seem to be stuck in a meeting, or rushing against a deadline, or performing some kind of social duty for which the excuse, 'I've got my period' would just seem...inappropriate.

With nearly half of the world's population regularly menstruating, this seems kind of ridiculous. I'm sure that some women don't experience dips in their energy at the start of their period, or upward swoops and creative surges mid-cycle, but presumably I'm not the only one?

There are days mid-cycle that I can take on the world - my energies overflow and I have more than enough to share. I socialise with greater ease, I'm more productive both at work and at home, I laugh more. I achieve more than I set out to, I feel I can exceed all expectations - just for the sheer joy of life running through me. Then there are the days like today! It's nothing to do with feeling low (hell, give me a duvet and a good book and I'll be as happy as a puppy with a stolen shoe), but it does have a resounding effect on my desire to engage with the world.

A period is a time for inner jouneys, not outer ones. I feel an urge to be quiet, still and contemplative. Being forced, at this time, to fulfil professional (and social) expectations is unsettling, unbalancing and leads me to try to compensate. We comfort ourselves with food to replace a deeper comfort. We lose out on on a range of experiences which surely should be our birthright as women.

For a man, with fairly stable emotional and energy levels, a five day working week followed by two days of rest plus holidays may be a perfectly sensible routine (I'm sure some men would prefer alternatives!). But for me it feels damaging. I force myself on days where I cannot give my best - and lose my valuable 'still' time.

I suppose the question then becomes - what other options are there? Should I take time off when I have my period so that I can pour all my energy into work? That might sound good at first, but what about all my personal projects? I would leave myself with no space to pursue them.

Perhaps the best solution (until we are sophisticated enough as a society to recognise the needs of women) is to be self-employed in an area I love. Being in charge of my own time would allow me to manage myself in the way that is best for me.

Another great reason to become a herbalist, then.

While the pup's away

noreply@blogger.com (Urban Herbwife) — Thu, 06 Mar 2008 05:42:00 +0000

With Herbhubby and the puppy (what a cutie!!) away for a couple of weeks I've taken the opportunity to re-arrange the living room (no doubt HH will just move it all back as soon as he comes home). More importantly I've turned the kitchen into greenhouse.

I've got some lavender (lavendula angustifolia and stoechas ssp. pedunculata), some lemon balm, some lemon thyme, and most excitingly, a pineapple mint - I hadn't even heard of one of those until mum and I took the dogs to Hyland's Park on Saturday. They sell a few plants out of the shop in the stableyard, and the pineapple plant was attracting some attention as we walked in. The leaves really do smell like pineapple! It's a pretty little plant, too. Perfect for Pimms, the lady at the till suggested. When does summer start?

Urban Who Now?

noreply@blogger.com (Urban Herbwife) — Mon, 03 Mar 2008 16:19:00 +0000

Um, Urban Herbwife. I'm cheating, to be honest. I do live in an urban environment (Central London) and I do have a husband, but I'm just beginning my work on the middle bit...

For a long time now I've felt completely disconnected from everything that should make me, me - my woman-ness, my environment, my history, roots and culture - something huge is missing. It's time to change - I hope you'll share the journey with me.

A few years ago, while I was living in Okinawa, Japan, I had my first introduction to the wonderful world of herbs. If you're familiar with the JET Programme, then you will recognise the following: after a heavy night's drinking on a tiny island (our welcome party), I was feeling a little worse for wear. My new colleagues and I were due to catch a ferry back to the main island; I was at the point where I seriously doubted my ability to survive a boat trip and was busy lying down in some wet sand and trying not to be sick. Just the right side of the point of no return, somebody handed me a little bottle of bright yellow, foul-smelling gunk and told me to drink. Hard, but nothing could have made me feel any worse. I drank, and 10 minutes later I was good to go! Well, that's a slight exaggeration, but I did feel a hell of a lot better and I wasn't sick once. Result.

The drink was made from a root called ukon (ucchin in Okinawan dialect) - otherwise known as turmeric. In Japan it comes in concentrated drinks, tea, powders, tablets and capsules. The Okinawans are seriously impressive drinkers and yet - they never seem to get hangovers, and they're famous as the longest-lived population on the planet. I'm convinced that the answer is (partly at least) turmeric! You can find some more information on ucchin (turmeric) here.

The Herbhubby and I (both fond of the odd drink) were sure to stock up when we went back for our honeymoon!

So yes, a combination of wanting to re-connect with my roots, and wanting to avoid a hangover...noble desires indeed!