by Steph Zabel

The other day I co-hosted a local community networking event with a friend. We envisioned our gathering as a way for like-minded people to converge in the same room at the same time, facilitating introductions that otherwise might never have happened. In this instance we were aiming for local Somerville entrepreneurs and community builders to meet one another, and hopefully to form valuable connections for their businesses, creative projects and community initiatives.

Although we put the word out to our networks and had some positive feedback about this idea beforehand, we didn’t really know who would show up, and what exactly would happen. It was an experiment of sorts… However we were pleasantly surprised to find ourselves with a roomful of people, and more importantly, with an overall feeling of excitement, curiosity and friendliness that permeated the event. I left that gathering buzzing from the positive interactions, and grateful to have connected with so many interesting people.

This, I believe, is where magic resides – in the easy-going encounter of people who are open, willing to share some of themselves, and wanting to listen to and learn from others. This is how you not only root yourself in your local community, but it’s how you find it in the first place.

And this is why I find in-person events and real-time interactions to be so exciting and transformative. We have so many ways that we can connect with people through the internet and social media, but I truly think that there is never anything quite as powerful as face-to-face, mind-to-mind, and heart-to-heart interactions that occur in person.



This is the reason why we create Herbstalk gatherings, after all. We do it in order to facilitate introductions between people, to create a space for herb- and plant-lovers to interact. It’s for new possibilities to be created and new connections to be formed. It’s for knowledge and experience to be shared, for minds and hearts to be inspired. We want people to feel that attending an Herbstalk event is gratifying not only because of what was learned, but also because of the relationships with people—and plants!—that were created.

We are truly honored and excited to bring this event to you and we hope that we can continue to be a positive force for community-building by affirming our relationship to the place we live in, to the people we are connected with, and to plants that are a part of our daily lives.

See you in June to do just that!

Submitted by Larken Bunce of the Vermont Center for Integrative Herbalism.

Spring is coming to the forest. Even as gale winds continue to blow and snow remains a constant presence in the far Northeast that I call home, the birds have started to sing. The sun is higher in the sky, sending strong shafts of light glancing through branches swelling with leaf buds. On a recent day, I’m sure I heard the rushing whisper of sap rising.

In the people around me, I sense a kind of readiness, even an impatience, to burst forth, start moving, rise up, make a plan, get gardens in the ground. Many folks are getting antsy. I’ve even seen t-shirts and shorts when the thermometer approaches 40 degrees! And then there are those who are still enjoying the hibernation of shorter days, richer meals, warm fires. They might be feeling a bit nervous, even fearful about the coming activity, the expectations to jump into action, know the path and get to work on another season of growth. These folks might be getting a bit irritated in their own way, too, as when being asked an important question just a little sooner than you’ve arrived at an answer.

So, there’s early Spring in a nutshell: the dynamic tension between moving ahead into expansive, decisive action and staying wrapped up tight in rest and unknowing, between rest and productivity, solitude and community. You’ve probably noticed that you lean one way or the other, towards wanting Spring to hurry up and arrive in earnest and wishing Winter would stay a bit longer. And since the seasons acquiesce to no one, you might notice that either way you lean, you are not satisfied. Except, of course, if you’re content with just exactly what is, right now–if you’re comfortable being flexible, letting life flow through you, just as it is.



Because the truth about Spring–at least the face it wears here in the Northeast–is that sometimes it’s warm with promise, other times blustering and harsh. The constant, especially now, is change. If you’re one of the folks able to stay present and navigate this time of transition, you may find that you are able to bend gracefully, not break in frustration under these mutable conditions. Like the young maples in the forest, you might find that as the day is warm and night cold, the sap in you rises just as it should, pulsing in rhythm with the fluctuations, even dependent on them. At exactly the right time, your leaves will burst forth, extending toward the light, and arch skyward into the song-filled air.

These are some of the core teachings of Spring. Flexibility. Ability to respond at the perfect moment. Reveling in change. Channeling inner treasures, discovered and accumulated during deep rest, into powerful manifestations of who we are. These are Spring’s requirement of us, as well as its invitation.

Though Chinese medicine can sometimes seem to be a maze of abstract theory to those not accustomed to its language or concepts, in the Five Phases (or Elements), the Chinese elegantly captured what I’ve found to be timeless insights about life on this planet. Essentially, they recorded how the landscape is reflected in the bodies, hearts and minds of humans in an analogous, inner terrain. While this particular tradition is rooted in Taoist alchemical, even shamanic, philosophies and practices specific to China, we can see that the essence of this system bears truth in multiple bioregional and cultural contexts. Identifying the core features which resonate with our own rich experiences and diverse locales, we begin to craft a modern, living, breathing medicine, rooted firmly to place.

No matter where we are, we can see the teachings and invitations of each Phase present in the cycles of our lives. We see ourselves as glints in our parents’ DNA, becoming infants and children, young adults, parents, and then elders, preparing to transition back to the earth. We see the dark of midnight, sliding into dawn, noon-day sun, afternoon’s glow, evening, and night again. We see the plants as they move from seed to sprout, to flower, to fruit, to making seed and letting it fall, beginning the cycle anew. We see our fears, our hopes, our passion, our care and tenderness, and our solitude with spirit. We can universally recognize these cycles as expressed in ourselves and the land, though Spring in one place might have a different face than in another, just as we are each a singular terrain with unique stories. Regardless of place, this living system affirms that Nature, in all its complexity and diversity, is a perfect, self-sustaining whole. In answering Nature’s invitation to become attentive to our inner landscapes, we can experience the same complex, diverse and imperfectly-perfect wholeness. In essence, it is an invitation to dynamic health and to belonging.

So, as the snows recede and ever more green peeks through, as creatures begin to emerge from winter dens and our seed packets start to call to us from wherever they’ve been tucked away, consider apprenticing yourself to Spring. How can you flow gracefully into this season embodying all at once the lithe sapling, the bursting bud, and the birdsong that fills the sky?

Submitted by Felix Lufkin.

White pine, Pinus strobus, is a tall evergreen tree native to the American north-east. It is easy to identify with its dark black / brown, deeply and widely furrowed bark, its straight trunk and upright aiming branches. White pine, like many other pines in the area, offers a number of different edible and medicinal uses. Since it is accessible year round, it’s a great friend of ours in the winter – when wild foods are more difficult to come by.

White pine is a fast growing tree if given the opportunity. It often germinates and grows in large, uniform stands after fires clear patches in a forest. Most pines in the north east have been cut since European contact, though some old growth beings remain – while not as tall, they are the east coast’s version of redwoods, along with American chestnut – growing to at least 150 feet in height and 6 in diameter.

How to ID white pine:

Bark: White pine bark is dark black with a sort of frosted gray hue. It has wide ridges and deepish groves. It’s not scaly, or shaggy. The bark of the younger branches is quite smooth, with a greenish black color.

Cones: White pine’s female cones are the familiar pine cones of the north-east, roughly the size and shape of medium cucumbers, and dark brown. The male cones are small, like small pickled gherkins – smaller than a baby carrot, and more dense. They are both less scaly than spruce cones, and much bigger than hemlock cones, which are just the size of grapes.

Needles: White pine needles are in clusters of 5 and are about as long as a playing card. Just think of the five letters in W-H-I-T-E. Red pine needles, in contrast, are in bunches of 2, thicker, and as long as hot dog. Pitch pine needles are in bunches of three and can protrude from the trunk itself.

Appearance: White pine has a distinctive, stately appearance, especially when viewed at a distance. It’s branches aim out and slightly upward, like a person with spread arms, lifted up and soaking in the sun. It’s easy to ID them on a ridge even miles away. Its branches are ‘whorled’ on the stem, meaning, many of them radiate out from a single part of the branch they sprout from – different than alternate oak branches, or opposite – aligned maple branches, for example. Whorled branches are somewhat uncommon.

Food / Medicine uses:

Edible needles: The needles are tasty, aromatic and sour. While a bit chewy, there’s no harm in nibbling them right of the tree for vitamins and some roughage. The lime-green new needles each spring are very tender, sour, and refreshing. Enjoy them! Otherwise, take a few handfuls of needles per quart of tea. You can boil water, pour over the needles and cover, or, to make a richer, more resiny and carb-rich tea, you can bring the needles and some thin twigs to a boil for a few minutes then let steep in the pot, also covered. They’re loaded with vitamin C and other minerals (4 or more times more than OJ – and what are we doing drinking orange juice in New England?!). They also make an excellent fortified vinegar.

Inner bark: The inner bark, peeled like a pale, fibrous wonton wrapper off the outer (smooth and darker) bark, is a great survival food. It is rich in carbs. It will sustain you when other food sources are unavailable, though causes harm to the tree – so just use wind falls or pruned branches only if you need to. You’ll have to stew it to make it tender, but it’s worth the experience.

Sap: The sap can be chewed as a refreshing and flavorful gum that freshens the breath. Find a scab on a trunk that is very dry and firm to the touch. If it’s the slightest bit sticky or mushy, it will get stuck all over your mouth. If that happens, just chew a little butter to break it down.

Cones: The small male cones and immature female cones can be steamed or boiled as a vegetable when green and pliable. They are resinous, but the female cones do have tiny pine nuts in them.

Medicinal uses: The pollen can be gathered and tinctured for ‘upright chi’, for vigor and vim. The soft sap can be used as an antibiotic on wounds and to ‘stitch’ together a ragged wound. The needles are great for winter immune boosting, and can be steamed and inhaled for upper respiratory infections.

Practical uses: The pitch can be boiled with fat or beeswax into superglue and is an excellent fire starter. The wood, of course, is used for lumber and to keep us warm. The soft, younger bark can be skinned from branches and folded into baskets or containers which harden, and can be sewn together with flexible pine roots, sealed with pitch, and will be water tight. You can even boil water in them!

Permaculture: Korean nut pine can be grafted onto white pine for a fast growing, canopy evergreen nut tree. The normal pine nuts we eat, from pinon or Chinese nut pines, don’t grow at altitudes below 6000′, so this is an interesting new option for forest gardens.

Submitted by Mischa Schuler of Wild Carrot Herbs.

Experiencing inclusion in community is a powerful aspect of our humanity.  In the context of community we build relationships, express ourselves through our words, our actions, and our work, and give and receive time, energy, and a sense of belonging.

When we are new to a place – this could be a new city, job, school, housemate situation – it can take some time to move from feeling “outside” to being an integral “part.”

Perhaps you are familiar with the powerful magic of walking in the woods, surrounded by stunning trees and blooms, and suddenly knowing that you belong to the magic?  The woods are whole with your presence and you are a part of the collective symphony.  You belong to that moment and that place.

The question becomes “how do we embrace this powerful message from the plants and bring it home to our day to day Life?”

As in forest ecology, we experience our own personal succession of growth in community.  Just as in an established forest, when we first arrive in a new community, we must discover the sunny niches left open and available for us to sprout into.

If we are considering moving to a community, we must look to see if we will be nourished.  Do we know what part of ourselves we want to grow? Is there enough sunlight and water for the seed of ourselves to germinate?  Who are our symbiotic companion plants who will help us establish our root systems?

This blog topic hits close to home for me and has been surprisingly challenging to write about.  I moved six months ago from Quebec, Canada to Portland, Maine and it’s been exciting (and at moments scary!) to re-define what community means for me.

Before I arrived in Maine, I picked up a copy of the Buy Local, Independent Businesses guide.  I looked through the booklet to see what people were doing and circled all the places that inspired me and once I moved, I went on a pilgrimage to visit them.  I looked on local community bulletin boards for upcoming events and I signed up for Portland Meetup groups that were of interest to me.  I also signed up for a Permaculture Design Class over a series of weekends  –  I figured this would be a sure way to meet folks who also appreciate the plants and who would come from many backgrounds and perspectives.  And because it would convene one weekend a month for six months, it would be a regular community check-in point that I felt would be a healthy support.

I also had several friends living in the area, so I had a weekly dose of friendly companionship I could rely on.  (I don’t think this aspect of comfort can be under-estimated.)

I got involved with the local Food Coop, where there are recurring friendly faces, and then I looked into organizations and groups where I might meet like-minded people.  (In my case, I love to sing, so I searched out a cappella groups.)

I wanted to get to know the fellow herbalists in the area.  I had met some herb friends through other Northeast herb gatherings and I wanted to learn where we could connect and share so that we were supporting each other and collaborating.  I wanted to see what our community already had available and to see what niche I might fulfill.

We started a Southern Maine Medicinal Plant Meetup group to post herbal events in the area – and we’re hoping other event organizers will also use this as a way to get the word out about their offerings.  Other herb friends hold a weekly Monday night herb event focusing on a different theme each evening at Justice in the Body, an incredible resource in downtown Portland.

Since sharing about the plants is one of my greatest joys, I also offer classes – some out of my kitchen and some are also out of Justice in the Body.

My sense of community is still growing and building – I’m a beginner here, and it’s arguable if I will ever qualify as a Mainer, since I wasn’t born in this state.  I’ve been paying attention to what brings me joy, who makes me laugh, who is a good listener, spaces and places that feel good and focusing on these positive characteristics.  I am gravitating toward people and events in which I feel grounded and connected.

I also maintain a morning and evening ritual of saying thank you to the plants.  I’m much more present on days when I take five minutes to light a candle and say hello.

Transitions are multi-faceted (and aren’t we always transitioning in some way?) so it’s been helpful (and fun) exploring new adaptogen formulas which I blend up each month and enjoying individual herb teas to get to know them ever-better.  Just like our community of people friends, we’re always deepening our relationship with our plant friends and discovering their personalities and how they like to interact in community.  Community building and sense of belonging takes time and energy – when we’re feeling stuck we can remember the interconnection of the plants to one another and with us and allow that vision to percolate into our view of community.

Mischa is a community herbalist and fertility awareness practitioner in Portland, Maine.  She loves reproductive health and supporting women and children with plant medicine.  She studied herbal medicine at the Tai Sophia Institute and feels grateful to have apprenticed with Deb Soule at Avena Botanicals for a very magical growing season.  She teaches classes locally through Portland Adult Education, Justice in the Body, and in her kitchen.

Submitted by Jenny Hauf of Allandale Farm.

When last I wrote winter was everywhere, piled thickly on medians and hilled at the edges of parking lots. There’s still a lot of snow out there, but this glorious thaw is loosing it and putting my mind in overdrive. It’s time to move into the next step of herb garden planning!

A drawing by Laura Grover of my urban herb garden in March.


If you’ve not yet read part one of this series, An Introduction to Growing Urban Herbals, I encourage you to do so. After you’ve read it and made yourself acquainted with your space, soil and light conditions, and the plants that you want to grow, you’re ready to get serious and make…a map!

It’s easy to go crazy in your first year of gardening. Like a new love, everything about the garden is blissfully overwhelming. It’s great to have that feeling of rapture, but it can quickly grow messy—and expensive—as you indulge in more plants than your containers and borders can handle. Drawing out a simple diagram will help you to understand the vast possibilities and important limitations intrinsic to your space. Use a tape measure so that it’s to scale and make it as detailed as possible.

Once you have a nice map to reference, begin adding to it. Draw in the plants that you’d like to grow. It’s helpful to make a few copies of your original map so that you can create several drafts of the garden. Tell the paper everything you want and it will show you all that you can have.


This kitchen garden will have herbs bordering beds of vegetables.


Planning a garden requires a combination of aesthetics and practicality. The aesthetics come in the arranging of rich marriages, flings, and flirtations between your plants.

The practicalities come with a set of useful rules.

1. Plant tall herbs behind shorter ones so as not to shade them from the sun. Seed catalogs, the folks at your friendly neighborhood garden center, and the internet will tell you how tall and wide your plants can expect to get.
2. Most plants in the mint family, such as oregano and peppermint, spread throughout the garden aggressively. It is best to keep them confined to containers so that they don’t take over all of your beds. If you are solely gardening in containers it is best to grow these plants singly.
3. Shade-loving herbs should be grown in shady places! Plants that love well-drained soil (meaning soil that drains rainwater relatively quickly) should be grown in well-drained soil! Know what your plants want and give it to them. This will save you a lot of work and heartache.

Once your garden is planned out you’ll want to consider where you’re getting your plants. Many herbs can be easily started from seed (such as basils, calendula, and heartsease), while others are best purchased as started plants. Call your garden center and ask what they’ll have available for spring planting and check out websites and catalogs. Once the ground thaws you’ll have a lot of work to do, so it’s best to get as much of your planning done now as possible. Some seeds can be started at home with special techniques such as stratification,scarification, and soaking. These techniques are a little too involved for this post, so if you’re interested please visit the above links.

The last step in preparing your garden for planting is amending the soil. Check the results of your soil test and mark what your soil needs. This wonderful UMass site breaks down your test results and shows you how to give your soil what it wants. Once you can work the ground these amendments, as well as good quality compost, should be applied. (If you put compost on your garden last year there’s no need to add more now.) Remember that many herbs prefer a soil that is somewhat “poor,” so combine the information from UMass with this link that I shared last month.

Please feel free to ask any questions or offer your own tips in the comments section. You can also contact me through my website.

And quickly, a joke. What’s a pirate’s favorite medicinal herb?



Arrrrnica! (Which you can start from seed right now! Just sow it in some fine seeding mix, stick it in the fridge for 1-3 weeks, and move it to a cool, sunny place to germinate.)

See you in April!