by Henry Kesner

I have not been able to look at a Dandelion the same way since 2010. It was two years before the herbalist moved in but her teachings of this most common, local herb had one of the most prolific effects on my botanical mind.

I have always loved plants and grew up hiking through forests, working on farms and studying/protecting plants in the Northeastern and Southwestern parts of our country. I have always understood their necessity to our ecosystems and the health of our world. That said, and despite this appreciation for our natural world, I was still rather robotic when it came to dealing with what I then considered ‘weeds.’

It was easy to decipher which plants belonged and which did not (in those days) in prepping and grooming a garden patch or the farm tomato beds or my parents front sidewalk. Like a well-oiled machine I systematically would remove dandelion after dandelion (roots and all) and other ‘weeds’ to make way for other natives to grow. These same yellow, golden-flowered herbs would be yanked and discarded into yard waste bins and compost piles to decay away.

When I moved into my city home in 2008, I had the pleasure of re-landscaping our tiny back and front yards. In my attempt beautify the gardens I replaced what was once sod-grass with a series of native perennials and evergreens. In the process I also tended the garden and removed any and all, obvious weeds including the omni-present dandelion – once dubiously dubbed ‘king’ of the weeds.

That is until I met the herbalist, and that same herbalist moved in. Through her, I quickly learned the varied uses of this common sidewalk plant. As someone who prides himself on cleaning my plate or making use of the whole animal, I also love the fact that one can make use of an entire dandelion. The leaves can be used as tasty greens for any salad, the flower heads are a sweet garnish for any plate, and the entire plant can be ground into one of my favorite morning drinks – dandy-blend. (Try it warm with a bit of coconut milk!)

The dandelion alone is one of many weeds that one could turn into a common meal around the spring and summer. The list goes on and on but I will save this list for future posts, and those herbalists teaching at Herbstalk….

Today, if you drop by my garden you will find it much wilder looking than when I first moved in, with dandelions scattered about. I look at them even today as I write this and they seem so different now from when we were first introduced many years ago. They sprout up around March and April, announcing the arrival of spring all through the garden and around the foundation of my home.  While I leave most (if not all) in place, I still pick dandelions from time to time. I wash them, dry them and they eventually end up in my kitchen and then in my belly.

Submitted by Henry Kesner of Herbstalk.

In my previous post I reviewed the golden rule of living with an herbalist, “Don’t touch my herbs before asking.” In this lesson on herbal life I had mentioned that what I mistakenly removed from the stove top was ultimately deposited in our kitchen compost container. As most of us are aware, composting has increasingly become part of our urban culture here in the US (and of course has been a natural part of farms, villages and rural life for generations). It is an excellent way to return nutrient rich organic scraps and material back to the soil and jump start our gardens and landscapes for the growing season.

Ever since moving to the city I have composted. The process is simple enough. I keep a small container near the kitchen sink and empty all of my organic food scraps, egg shells and other compostables into it. When the container filled up every few days or so I would carry it outside and deposit the material into a large garden composting bin outside.

As you can imagine, the space of an urban garden in the Boston area is limited and there is only so much one can do with their compost during a given season. Despite space restrictions, I had the process down to an art…no, a science.

Over the course of my city-hood experience I had established the perfect ratio of organic food consumption to rate of backyard compost decomposition. Each time I filled my sink-side container, the outdoor bin had been churned and ready to welcome additional material. By the time spring and summer passed I had the compost churned into a perfect mix that was ready to be spread into my garden beds before winter, thus prepping the space for the following season. It was a thing of beauty.

This was until the herbalist moved in. That once to twice a week trip to the outdoor compost bin quickly turned into a daily (sometime hourly!) ritual as I was carting out bucket by bucket-load of wet, dry, pressed, and chopped plant parts. One compost bin became two and the outdoor container filled beyond any semblance of peace and balance. It had exploded into a cornucopia of exhausted herbs. My perfect compost routine was thwarted and no longer was I able to keep pace with the herbalists’ herb scraps.



But there is a happy ending to my tragic tale. The pounds and pounds of herbal teas and coffees and plant parts not only added a lovely, masking aroma to the compost heap but quickly turned the matter into rich soil that a true farmer could only dream of. By spring the compost developed its best consistency to date (minus a few rogue avocado pits…stop that please!) and the resulting mix helped produce my/our most vibrant backyard urban garden to date. Guess those herbs had some life left in them after-all.

As a takeaway, by living with an herbalist not only will your compost pile grow, so will the beauty and complexity of your garden. Just buy/make a few more bins to handle the volume. You are going to need it…

Submitted by Henry Kesner of Herbstalk.

Hello out there. Let me start by stating very clearly that I am not an herbalist, nor do I claim to be one. However, I do love plants and those who study and practice herbalism. It is through my encounters and exchanges with friends and the herbal community that I have developed a deeper appreciation of our natural world and the power of plants that surround us.

That being said, there has been no greater teacher and guide to the herbal universe for me than my girlfriend, a practicing herbalist. We live together and through her daily rituals, cooking, tea making, and our conversations I have enjoyed 3-year crash course in herbalism.

It is from this perspective that I would like to present to you here on the Herbstalk blog, an ongoing series that I have lovingly entitled “Living with an Herbalist.”

I hope that my stories and observations will provide some insight, comfort and laughter to those who know, live with, and/or love an herbalist or herbalist-in-training. As you read some of my anecdotes, lists, realizations, etc., I hope that they may spark a story to share of your own.

a typical scene on the kitchen table


Part I: “Don’t Touch My Herbs”

First rule of Fight Club is “Don’t talk aboutFight Club.” The first rule of living with an herbalist is “Don’t touch my herbs.”  I know – it seems a little harsh but it is a golden rule to live by – no, survive by – when living with an herbalist. In any given day, at any given time there may be a new something bubbling, boiling, sitting, seeping, straining, or drying on your kitchen counter, stove top, or next to the sink.

As someone who tries to keep the homestead nice and tidy, it is very tempting to clean and compost all the variety of plant materials accumulating around the kitchen. In one, typical instance I once encountered what seemed to be two-day old tea mixture sitting soggy in a pan on the stovetop. In a quick couple of motions I had the pan in my hands and the tea remains into our compost container. It was a swift, noble attempt to get rid of clutter, or so I thought… Wrong!

a typical scene on the stovetop


No sooner did the saturated herbs enter the compost bin did my girlfriend appear in the kitchen in search of the said herbs in order to reapply water and regenerate her tea concoction. “Where are my herbs?…” she inquired. And with my hands still in the compost pail, she knew the travesty that had just occurred. “Hey! Please don’t touch my herbs. Never touch my herbs before asking…”

It was another good deed gone awry but in my guilt I learned something that fateful day. As all good herbalists will say, there are many ways to tease out the good, nurturing essence of every plant part. Herbal work does not have to be allotted a given time frame; it is at the mercy of the plant itself and what energy it holds. As someone who prides himself on eating everything on his plate, wearing out his clothes into rags, and in general avoiding waste at all cost, I too should keep in mind the enduring power and use of herbs – dried, wet, or otherwise.

I also learned that when living with an herbalist and you see something in the kitchen, say something. Simply ask, “Are you still working with these herbs?” Chances are that those herbs have something left in ‘em after all.