by Jenn Falk

“The entire Universe is concentrated in the garden. The garden allows us to become one with nature. And when we meditate we cannot separate ourselves from nature.”

I took this quote from a snippet that I saw in a little docu-piece online about Japanese gardens. Isn’t it lovely? It’s the essence of what Pepperand I will be getting at when we teach our special Yoga/Herbal-infused/Mindfulness class this year at Herbstalk! I’m super grateful to my dear friend, Steph, for welcoming us as the first ever yoga class to be taught at this event.

In reality what this class offers is a meditation on friendship. You see, once you start a mindfulness practice such as yoga or meditation, your lifestyle changes. It’s inevitable. We learn to become better friends with ourselves, and with other creatures and life on this planet. This can manifest in a variety of different ways. One amazing friendship that can be forged on this path of inner growth is each and every one of our relationships with plant life. You might begin to take in your surroundings more, noticing the changing seasons and with that the types, colors, and energy of plants around you. You might start to crave owning more houseplants and then truly pay attention to them. You might attract more friends who are gardeners, herbalists, nature explorers. What you put on or in your body changes as you put more reverence into the idea that we are a part of nature. I see it happen all the time! It’s a lovely thing to witness happen to friends and family who begin dedicating time to their yoga/mindfulness practice. We begin to transform our lifestyles and welcome the healing and open energy that can come from nature.

This is why Herbstalk is such an amazing creation for those of us here in an urban environment. We are able to learn from some of the best in their field about how to engage closer with the plant world. There will be all varieties of classes, teachers, and business owners to take it in from. Everything from learning how specific herbs can support your nervous system, to how plants can aid in your spiritual process, to creating and sustaining an herbal/natural beauty routine.

For me, discovering and staying open to the magic of plants and herbs has always been a feminine and spiritual experience. As teenagers, Steph and I would head out into the parks, climb trees, create our own rituals in our backyards…and this created healing that allowed us to forge a deep friendship — one that still remains my oldest and dearest to this day. I believe the fact that our friendship is still going strong is due to this weaving of our spirits with how we take care of ourselves through our belief in and our love for the natural world. What occurs when you pay attention to your own day-to-day mindfulness or healing process is a respect for and honoring of our own bodies, and thus with nature. You don’t have to become a plant expert/healer/herbalist extraordinaire, or a yoga teacher/wellness practitioner to reap these benefits or learn more.

All you have to do is stay willing to open up your senses. Possibly watch the lunar cycles, and enjoy each season. Try and see where your interests in plant-life comes out! It could be in consuming tea, using herbal tinctures or elixirs to boost your system in some way, planting a garden plot, or even just taking trips to local gardens for enjoyment. The options are endless in how slowing down through mindfulness and yoga can connect you deeper into what surrounds us via plant wisdom and medicine.

Pepper and I met this past year in Elena Brower’s Art of Attention teacher training, and immediately hit it off through (what else) learning about our love for plants/herbs/the natural world! Our class for Herbstalk will go deeper into this idea of weaving together how we discover wellness with our relationship to plant life. The 2-hour class will involve: meditation, some kundalini kriya, some yin postures, hatha flow, prolonged restorative shapes, sampling herbal elixir, flower essences, aromatherapy, and short discussion.

It is on Sunday morning, June 8th at 9:00am at Herbstalk at the Somerville Armory on Highland Ave.

We look forward to seeing you there!

“The greatest gift of the garden is the restoration of the five senses.”
-Hanna Rion

by Nathaniel Putnam

Momordica charantia


I recently had the joy of attending a conference called Medicines from the Edge down in Costa Rica.  While I have experience with the flora of the rainforest, Costa Rica is the most biodiverse country in Latin America. From mountains stretching to over 10,000ft down to sandy beaches along the coast, the plants reflect a rich history that spreads across time and place. Among the old indigenous native species, there are invaders from Europe and new immigrants from the Caribbean Islands and Africa. One workshop reviewed over 60 medicinal plants that were mostly brand new to me. Still in one local park, I ran into familiar friends: dandelion and plantain; seeds that traveled on the boots of the  Spanish. But outside that cultivated area, the vines, trees, and herbaceous plants become a raveled mess to untangle and explore more in depth.

Fruit-bearing tree permaculture has expanded in these tropical regions of the world as our diet takes on a more global flavor. I can walk into a grocery store like a Whole Foods Market or Trader Joe’s and find 5 kinds of coconut water and coconut oil, along with juices from acai, noni, and mangosteen fruits. Down in Costa Rica, I recognized a bumpy yellow cucumber-like fruit called sorosi or karela but here in the the States, it is known as bitter melon.

Anyone who has tried bitter melon knows of its “bite” and tasting this fruit is an adventure that requires a strong will and a strong stomach. Cleverly enough, the genus name,Momordica comes from the Latin word, momordi, meaning “to bite”, a reference not to the taste but to the shape of the leaves. Traditionally, the leaves and fruits are used in medicinal preparations but all parts of the plant can be used in various ways.

Leaves:

These can be brewed into a tea for when you are tired or have a stomachache from eating too many sweets.

The tea can also be used for malaria, worms, and other parasites as well as tumors, bacteria and viruses.

On occasion, a strong tea can be used to stimulate uterine contractions.

The leaves are applied topically for scabies, rashes, eczema, sores and infections.



Fruits:

The red fruit is cooked in oil and added to tortillas.

The fruit juice is harvested by crushing/mashing the fruits.

This remedy is one of the most common used for high blood sugar across Latin America.

Dosage:

A traditional dosage for high blood sugar is the juice of 1-2 fruits consumed twice a day.

If you can’t get fresh fruits or pods, use 1 cup of a leaf or whole herb decoction twice a day.

At a similar rate, a 1-3 ml dose of a 4:1 leaf tincture can be used.

You can also find bitter melon extracts in tablets or capsules; about 1-3 grams, twice a day.

Scientific Verification:

Research has shown that the plant has a mixture of saponins, peptides, and alkaloids that enhance the  cells’ uptake of glucose, promote insulin release, and increase the effect of insulin. The plant contains proteins that inhibit guanylate cyclase, an enzyme linked to psoriasis and the growth of leukemia and cancer cells.

A Word for the Wise:

Like many bitter plants, bitter melon can be strong and effective. Toxicity is low but be respectful.

Take caution before using this plant with anyone who is pregnant, breast feeding, or trying to get pregnancy.

Similarly, diabetics should use with caution while monitoring their blood sugar levels regularly and adjust the dosage of insulin as needed.

Bitter melon can increase the effectiveness of anti-diabetic and cholesterol-lowering drugs.

A Final Thought:

Some say that bitter melon does not take well to be cultivated and often grows better in the wild.

A few folks that I spoke with talked about the wild and free soul of the bitter melon.

If you are adventurous enough to try one, I suggest you let the plant do the talking.

by Cathleen Miller.

When I sit with a client for the first time, I spend a lot of that session listening to the ways that they talk about their experience of illness and wellness, what their aspirations and fears sound like.  The words they choose tell stories about how they see the world and how they experience themselves in it.

I listen for ways that we can shift their dominant narrative to improve the potential for healing.  I learn what feels nourishing and nurturing to them, and what they struggle to integrate or what they avoid.  I try to imagine weaving a web that creates safety and commonality, opening a space where nothing is inherently wrong.  I try to empty my mind of any stories I have created from reading their intake form—instead, I listen to them identify why they are there and what they hope to gain from our work together; and I listen for plants that speak during that time too.  That first conversation is such an amazing opportunity for co-creation, and a chance to build connection that will last through the relationship if we do it well.

When clients talk about their bodies, we can hear patterns that could use some tending, some lovingkindness, some acknowledgement.  I often feel that at least fifty percent of the work of the session is just about making sure that the person you are sitting with feels heard and accepted.  There is so much healing just in that practice of listening intentionally.  When we pair skillful listening with supportive activities that can help shift deeply-ingrained patterns, then magic can happen.

I work with a lot of people who have experienced trauma and struggle with a variety of the aftereffects—often feeling unseen and unheard in the world.  I use flower essences with nearly all of these clients, and I also offer writing exercises to help shift the energy that arises from doing the intense work of facing their fears and shadow selves.  If we can help our clients make meaning out of the experience of illness, then it turns into a teacher instead of just something that is happening to them.  It can become an ally, or at least a good source of information.

Given the power of story, I am very careful not to suggest to clients that their thoughts manifest in their bodies.  This is a story that many healers use to talk about the power of our thoughts, emotions and intentions.  While it is undoubtedly true that our emotions and thoughts are powerful, and that patterns of thinking can certainly result in illness, I prefer to use words to affirm the body’s intelligence, resilience and ability to heal.  I never want a client to walk away believing that they caused their illness; instead, I want them to believe firmly that no matter the circumstances they are now in, their body-minds are full of the potential for healing and wellness. The stories we tell ourselves and our clients matter—with our words, we build the foundation of the healing relationship.

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.

by Mischa Schuler

Wild Carrot came to me through a series of events that startles me when I am reminded of them.  At the New England Women’s Herbal Conference ten years ago – upon each woman’s name tag, along with her name and the place she considers home, there was written the name of a plant.  This is a sweet ice breaker – women are invited to find and introduce themselves to other conference participants bearing the same plant name.

While sitting in on a mushroom class taught by Nancy Scarzello, I looked down at my name tag reading “Wild Carrot”, and suddenly broke into tears knowing that this would be the name of my herbal practice.  I didn’t understand what was happening – I excused myself and walked through the vendor tent, which was mostly empty at the time and stumbled across Robin Rose Bennett’s booklet Wild Carrot (Daucus carota): A Plant for Conscious, Natural Contraception. I read the entire booklet and then left it on her table, too shocked to even think to purchase it.

It took me nearly a year to muster the courage to call Robin to learn more about Carrot and her experiences with it.  I wanted to know if Carrot was a plant for every woman.  Since that time, I have heard many stories engaging Carrot: many women have used Carrot successfully for years as a contraceptive, some women have been deeply disappointed by an unexpected pregnancy using Carrot, some women have had healthy babies who were exposed to Carrot in utero.

For those interested in Wild Carrot as contraception, a summary of the 2010 Wild Carrot study can be found here.

Carrot has since become an ally in my practice for supporting women with low thyroid levels (with Black Walnut); and recently as a galactagogue and carminative. And I am beginning to think of her as a potential ally in supporting fertility. (Robin had mentioned this in her practice – however, with different timing than when thinking of Carrot as a contraceptive.)

As with all parts of our Lives which we Love and are passionate about, there is always more to uncover, discover and explore.  I think about Carrot frequently, often in the form of questions: “how can she support so many different phases of a woman’s Life?”  She has so many connections to the hypothalamus – pituitary – adrenal axis.

What may seem contradictory – support of both conception and contraception – is extraordinary.  I hypothesize when I suggest that Carrot’s conception enhancing and contraception enhancing capabilities in the body are related to whether she is ingested before or after ovulation.

How might Carrot support fertility?  Some women observe increased cervical mucous when using Carrot before ovulation (the follicular phase of the reproductive cycle).  Elevated estrogens increase cervical mucous which provides a safe passage for traveling sperm. Might Carrot work to appropriately support estrogen levels and libido during the follicular phase before ovulation?

How might Carrot support contraception?  The hypothalamus packages hormonal information in specifically timed and regulated pulses into the blood stream.  After ovulation (the luteal phase of the reproductive cycle), progesterone levels are elevated in anticipation of conception.  Pulsing a dose of Carrot eight hours after intercourse (not before this time window) may increase relative progesterone levels.  With no additional immediate pulse of Carrot, the body may experience a relative drop in progesterone when Carrot is withdrawn, translating in the body as a poor time for an embryo to implant in the uterine lining.  Because a fertilized egg may be traveling for 24 hours before arriving in the uterus, it is recommended to pulse Carrot up to two more additional times, at eight hour intervals.  Might this be how Carrot behaves as an implantation inhibitor?

I am still gathering information – anecdotal, folkloric, studies, research.  I am fascinated by Wild Carrot and her ability to support a woman in maintaining her wildness.  Fertility is very intimate and profound; may women always hold the knowledge and wisdom to support their own needs and desires in this regard.

by Michael Blackmore

Beloved local linden tree (Tilia spp.)


Right now is one of my favorite times of the year because it is when the linden trees start to send forth their spring leaves. It’s a magical time thanks to a magical tree.  There are numerous linden trees about in Boston, since it is a longtime favorite of urban landscapers, but there is one linden tree that has a special place in my heart.

Each day on the way to work I walk by it in the morning.  I always take the time to pause, place my hand against it and connect and ground before starting the day.

When you look at the general shape of a linden tree it forms a fairly distinctive bell, which I think speaks to its essence in general as a plant that promotes harmony.  Its soothing nature is recognized by the Germans where the word to sooth is “lindern” and the tree is thought to represent “mercy.”

It’s usually not classified, in herbal parlance, as a nervine but I think in its heart linden is a nervine. I find it particularly well suited for generally calming and relaxing the emotional nervous system and addressing a host of physical ailments whose underlying cause is emotional. Insomnia, IBS, headaches, indigestion and high blood pressure with an emotional basis are often best dealt with by linden.  It is also good, in general, for relaxing the arteries and warming the digestive system.

I prefer to use it solo as a tea for its strictly calming and sedating actions and in combination with herbs aimed at specific physical ailments where there may be an emotional cause – like willow and linden tea for headaches or linden and hawthorn for heart or high blood pressure issues.

For me, linden trees are powerfully soothing and calming and I love to meditate under them.  Some trees’ presence can be so powerful as to be almost intimate and be a bit too majestic, but linden is comforting and gentle in its strength.  Infusions of linden flowers and leaves are my go-to tea when I’m seeking to connect with its warm and supportive nature.  However, I have made linden glycerides that were just amazing.  I don’t find tinctures with harsh alcohol as amenable to the gentleness of linden.

Beyond its many wondrous internal uses as a tea, it’s great for the skin — you can apply it as a tea wash or compress for itchy or inflamed skin.  Or infuse it in oil as the basis of a healing skin salve. The tea also makes a great refreshing face wash. I brew it overnight and press it out and wash my face with it in the morning for an amazing start to a day. And it makes for a great facial steam after a long day of work as well –- just throw some linden flowers into some boiling water, cover, let steep for a bit and then remove the lid and place your head over the batch with a towel to cover and keep the steamy linden goodness in.

You can also make a cough syrup of the flowers which children (and adults!) love by making a strong tea, adding sugar and reducing it down over a low heat until syrupy.

We’re fast approaching the time when the flowers emerge and you can make a flower essence of them, which is great for those dealing with emotional blockages and helps to open up people who struggle with the giving and receiving of love and affection after painful pasts.

It’s been said that if you fall asleep under a linden tree – you’ll awake in the realm of fairies.  But even time spent awake with them is magical to me.

Join us for a special Linden Celebration this Sunday, May 18th at the Somerville Growing Center from 12 – 2pm. We’ll have fun, informative talks about this lovely tree as well as free linden tea for everyone! RSVP and more info here. (Weather permitting)

Submitted by Patrice Green.

One of my favorite things about May in New England is the arrival of the sweet wild violet, which generally means that Spring is really, truly,finally here.  With its heart-shaped leaves and lovely purple flower, the wild violet adds a welcome splash of color after the dreary, cold weather of March and April.  Some call it a weed, as it can certainly take over a flower bed – or lawn for that matter – and is very difficult to get rid of, but why on earth would you want to?  Aside from the visual pop that it adds to the landscape, wild violet offers a host of medicinal benefits to the discerning forager.

Wild Violet


After the heavy foods of winter, the root vegetables and stews which are a common staple of a cold-weather diet, the greens of Spring help the body eliminate any excess.  So too, do the alteratives, which aid in the elimination of toxins and act as lymphatic cleansers. Many alteratives traditionally show up at this time of year: red clover, nettles, cleavers, dandelion, and of course, wild violet.   All wild violets are edible, both leaves and flowers.  The wild violet leaves have a slightly nutty flavor, and taste good in salads or cooked with other greens.  Wild violets are a great source of vitamins A, C and E and have many useful medicinal properties.

In addition to being a lymphatic cleanser, wild violet also has antiseptic and antibacterial properties.  Many resources on the medicinal value of this plant speak of making compresses with the leaves to clean skin abrasions or help with headaches.  This is most likely due to the salicylic acid which is found in all parts of the plant.  Salicylic acid is an active disinfectant, tissue solvent and also has fungicidal properties.

Probably one of the most well-known uses for wild violet is as an expectorant.  It is great for infections in the upper respiratory tract, as well as for colds, flu and bronchitis.  I find it also helps clear congestion which sometimes gathers during allergy season.  I have found numerous sources, including an old herbal book of my Grandmother’s dating from 1934, which talk about making an effective cough syrup by combining wild violet with wild cherry bark and horehound.

There is a wonderful violet syrup recipe which I first learned from Madelon Hope of the Boston School of Herbal Studies.  Fill any size glass jar with violet blossoms.  Cover with boiling water and put a lid on the jar.  Let sit for 24 hours, then strain.  Return the flowers to your compost pile.  Measure the amount of liquid in the violet infusion.  For each cup of infusion, add one cup of sugar to a pan and bring to just under a boil, until all sugar is dissolved.  Measure how much syrup you now have.  Allow it to cool to room temperature to preserve more vitamin C.  Once it’s cooled, add the juice of one half fresh lemon to each cup of syrup.  This is a great kitchen chemistry trick to do with kids because upon adding the lemon juice, the liquid will instantly turn a beautiful light fuschia/purple color.    Pour this mixture into sterilized bottles and keep refrigerated.  You can store this for up to one year.  I look forward to making this every Spring and use it medicinally as a very mild cough syrup.  If there’s any throat or chest congestion, one teaspoon of this is usually all that’s needed to notice an immediate improvement. It’s also very tasty (and pretty!) when poured over sorbet or ice cream.  Since the blossoms are edible, why not garnish with the flowers for an elegant touch to your dessert presentation?  You can also add the syrup to seltzer or mineral water for a refreshing drink.

Another way to avail yourself of this plant’s medicinal benefits is to take it as a flower essence.  Whenever I make a flower essence, I not only spend time with the plant, I also do one – or sometimes more – journeys to ask what lessons the plant wants to communicate.  The lessons in wild violet flower essence journeys were very specific.  As a flower essence, wild violet helps with making peace with the past and letting go of regrets.  Acceptance is sometimes a difficult journey, but wild violet can help one get to a place of heart’s ease and help clear and open both the heart and throat chakras.  It also aids in dispelling long-held grief.  One of the major messages which came through in my journeys for people who need this essence was that every step on your path has brought you to this place.  Accept it, acknowledge it, release it.  A great meditation to use with this essence is to invite the spirit of the wild violet into your meditation, breathe in sunshine and joy; breathe out grief and regret.

The wild violet blossoms will only be here for another few weeks.  I hope this article has helped to inspire you to try to build a closer relationship with this wonderful plant before its blossoms fade for another year.

Submitted by Jenny Hauf.

A bumble bee visiting ornamental sage in the Allandale Farm flower field. Image by Tana Wilkinson


This time of year I’m often rendered breathless and starry-eyed by my surroundings. Everywhere I look something new is curling out of concrete and woody shafts. The oaks are budding and cherries are tossing pastel confetti into the night.

The unfurling of everything—especially the herbs, those that I’ve coddled and loved into being, as well as the ones that appear on their own—thrills me and turns my mind to apothecary dreams. Salves, tinctures, beers, teas, scrubs, soups, condiments galore…there is so much to make from this green bounty!

But this spring I am looking at the botanical world a bit differently. I have a brand new diploma from Bee School and hives that I’m building from pine. The more that I learn about bees (and the other pollinators so integral to North American ecosystems), the more my understanding of urban ecology deepens and expands.

The herbs in our cityscapes heal, sustain, and provide for more than our own species. Spiders shelter in comfrey, cats go into ecstatic trances over catnip, and pollinators of all stripes, wings, and feathers obtain nourishment from almost everything in the neighborhood that blooms.

Take, for example, the gloriously ubiquitous dandelion, a plant painted so beautifully in Ray Bradbury’s “Dandelion Wine.” In his perfect novel, Bradbury documents the annual harvest of the plant for wine made by the main character’s grandfather.

The boys bent, smiling. They picked the golden flowers. The flowers that flooded the world, dripped off lawns onto brick streets, tapped softly at crystal cellar windows and agitated themselves so that on all sides lay the dazzle and glitter of molten sun.

“Every year,” said Grandfather. “They run amuck; I let them. Pride of lions in the yard. Stare, and they burn a hole in your retina. A common flower, a weed that no one sees, yes. But for us, a noble thing, the dandelion.”

Dandelions blooming by a greenhouse. Image courtesy of the author.


The dandelion certainly is a noble thing. It spreads a glistening wildfire through any soil deep enough for its taproot to find purchase, romping around the city with constituents that aid our digestion and purge our bodies of toxins. And not only do these dandelions make medicine that helps us rejuvenate our bodies and awaken to the fullness of spring, they also provide one of the most important foods for pollinators hungry and adventurous after a long, cooped-up winter. As anyone who has stuck their nose in a fresh dandelion knows, its assemblage of florets (what looks like one big flower is actually a composition of dozens!) are drenched in sunny pollen and sugary nectar, both of which are sought out by bees and other pollinators for sustenance.

It is increasingly well-known that pollinators are essential to life as we know it.
While a blog post is far too short a medium for seriously exploring their importance, it is a perfect space for a little list of herbs that you can grow to support your neighborhood’s bugs (and pollinating birds), as well as your own health!

• Milkweeds (Asclepias) have many medicinal properties. Perhaps most notably, pleurisy  root (aka butterfly weed, one of our prettiest wildflowers) is used in a tried-and-true remedy for respiratory complaints. They are also the only host plant in the world for monarch butterflies, whose populations are dipping dangerously low. Their nectar-rich flowers are popular among dozens of other insects, too.
• You probably don’t need me to tell you about the power of the herbal superstar Echinacea. What you may not know, however, is how much butterflies and other pollinators love this plant. Garden centers offer many different varieties within the Echinacea genus, but if you’re looking to make medicine ask for the unadulterated, straight species of E. purpurea or E. angustifolia. (There are several other less common species as well whose seed can be found through Horizon Herbs, Wildflower Farm, and other specialty suppliers.)
• Herbs with very tiny flowers, such as yarrow and mint, attract microscopic flies and wasps which pollinate and, in the case of the wasps, can also help control some of the peskier invertebrates in your garden, such as aphids and Mexican bean beetles.
• Clover has been used for everything from fighting cancer to treating psoriasis. It’s also a great food source for bumble bees which, unlike most bees, are able to get at the hard-to-reach nectar with their long tongues.

Pollination, like herbal medicine, is fascinating, mysterious, and—I’m going to say it—magic. Life without bees, wasps, flies, hummingbirds, moths, and butterflies would be depressingly grayscale and far less delicious. Say thanks to these amazing creatures by supporting pollinator-friendly organic farms and, if you’re able, growing some homegrown herbs of your own.


For more lists of pollinator-friendly plants, see these great links from the Xerces Society and the Maine Organic Farmers and Gardeners Association, the latter of which focuses on medicinals, as well as plants that attract hummingbirds. 



PS: Lots of medicinal herbs are now available for purchase at Allandale Farm. Most of our live plants were started from seed and have never been treated with non-organic methods. This month’s selection includes woodland natives goldenseal and black cohosh, as well as pollinator favorites like comfrey, hyssop, and lemon balm. We’ll also have a lot of herbs for sale at Herbstalk on June 7 & 8!

Submitted by Adam Stark.

Without further introduction, here’s the list (in alphabetical order by author last name)

• The Botanical Safety Handbook, 2nd edition by Zoe Gardner & Michael McGuffin, editors.  (Please note: I specified second edition!) The Expert Advisory council on this book is a who’s-who of American medical herbalism.  The scholarship is meticulous, drawing from deep wells of traditional understanding, clinical experience, biochemistry, and the formal scientific literature.  This is over 1,000 pages of solid BOOK, 15 years in the making.

• Out of the Earth by Simon Mills.  Out of print now, with the remaining copies getting up there in price.  This is my favorite book to start to delve into energetic concepts like the Five Elements, how taste effects physiology, expansive/contractive properties, and constitutional typing – at least to “scientific” Westerners like me.  For an overview of herbal conceptual framework, I cannot think of a better book.

• Plant Medicine in Practice: Using the Teachings of John Bastyr by Bill Mitchell.  A great materia medica from a great man, passing on to us conversationally what he learned from another great man that came before him.

• Medicinal Plants of the Pacific West by Michael Moore.  You gotta love Michael Moore.  I never met the man, but he’s always hulking around in the photos I see of him behind his giant, bushy beard like a giant, grumpy Santa Claus (he was 6’4”, and big-boned), cigarette in mouth, not a trace of smile on his lips.  He was also one of our finest herbalists.  And, I would argue, our very finest herbal writer.  This is the man who once defined borborygmus (in writing!) “the feeling of gerbils in wetsuits surfing goofy-foot across your transverse colon.”

• The Natural Pregnancy Book/Naturally Healthy Babies and Childrenby Aviva Romm.  If you want to bring herbs into someone’s home and someone’s heart, to start them on this path for life, start them with these two books.  Written in supple, confident prose, these books are as accessible as they are impressive.  These days, Aviva has an “M.D.” after her name, but her allegiance and heart is, and always will be, with the plants.  Aviva trained as a midwife, and was a founding member and president of the American Herbalists Guild.

• Herbal Vade Mecum by Gazmend Skenderi.  Skenderi is not a practitioner, but a scholar and consultant in natural products.  Vade Mecum is Latin for “go-with-me (book).”  This volume isn’t a textbook.  It won’t teach you everything you need to know.  But it packs 800 herbs into 450 pages.

• Adaptogens by David Winston and Steven Maimes.  Adaptogens are the stress-response herbs, the ginseng-class herbs, the deep restorative tonics.  And this is the definitive work on the topic – and the most important book on herbal treatment for stress, anxiety, and fatigue – by a noted Cherokee, Eclectic, and Chinese herbalist.

• Veterinary Herbal Medicine by Susan Wynne & Barbara Fougere.  If you’re going to drop $100 on a book about veterinary herbal medicine, make sure you get your money’s worth.

…and on-line:

• http://www.itmonline.org/herbs.htm is the Institutes of Traditional Medicine’s article index.  ITM still functions as a non-profit to promote the teaching and use of Traditional Chinese Medicine.  Their medical director, Subhuti Dharmananda, is a great teacher, a true scholar, and occasional iconclast.  That this resource is free… all I can feel is gratitude.

• www.Pubmed.gov.  Yes, the National Institutes of Health online medical database is full of multisyllabic jargon, and occasional herb-skepticism.  It’s also the world’s largest repository of published medical literature.  And it’s your tax dollars at work.  Take advantage of them.

• http://www.SWSBM.com is the old Southwest School of Herbal Medicine website.  You want to find all 2,000 pages of an old Eclectic material medica, online, for free?  This is where you’re going to find it.  The website ain’t pretty…

Submitted by Adam Stark.

Persian Silk Tree (Albizia julibrissen) is one of my favorite plants, and not just as medicine, either.  It is a graceful, gracious neighbor in the garden.  Amidst leaves like ferns, its flowers, like feathers, float like little puffs of smoke.  There’s something delicate about Persian Silk Tree, but not exactly.  It bends in the wind, but doesn’t break.  Its leaves fold inwards on themselves in the dark and in the rain, but always unfurl again.  And while its flowers look like they’d blow away in the first light breeze, they hang tough through storms, all the way through summer and into fall.

I suppose you might find a metaphor in that resilience.



Persian Silk Tree is almost entirely unknown in Western herbalism, and there’s barely a shred of formal research on it anywhere.  In China, however, it’s called He Huan – the Tree of Happiness.  Folk names for Persian Silk Tree in both the Middle East and Japan reflect that the plant is a “night sleeper” – that its leaves fold in upon themselves when the sun goes down.

I was first introduced to Persian Silk Tree about ten years ago at the Medicines from the Earth conference, when the herbalist David Winston called it “the most profound antidepressant” he had ever used in his nearly 30 years of clinical practice. He talked about it for “stagnant depression” and as a remedy for a “broken heart.”

I had never even heard of it.

Well, I’m the kind of herbalist who likes to down a whole teapot of something before I even offer a drop to a client.  So I ran right home and got some.  Now, bear in mind I’m not an unhappy person to begin with.  Bear in mind, too, that I dosed myself higher than a person probably ought to.  But within 3-4 days, I was walking around with an idiot grin on my face for no good reason.

I’ve had a fair amount of experience with Silk Tree since then.  I’ve given it to quite a few people, alone and in formulas, and it has usually (but not always) worked like a charm.  It is a brightening plant, but also a calming one.

Persian Silk Tree is especially indicated in a high-energy, high-strung, anxious, agitated, irritable depression, with light or disordered sleep.  Sort of what the TCM practitioners describe as “disturbed Shen,” and the Ayurvedic docs call “deranged Vata.”  Or for a broken heart. David Winston’s description of “stagnant depression” is a good fit.

That being said, it isn’t necessarily limited to one type of depression, or agitation, or restlessness.  Combine it with the right herbs, and you can fit it in to most protocols.  I use it as a lead herb around depression and grief, and as a secondary herb for chronic stress/sleeplessness, nervous heart, and even ADHD.

The bark is considered more grounding; the flowers more uplifting.  I have not noticed any huge differences between the two.

At a moderate dose, it might take a week or so to start working, but its effects are both pervasive and profound. Cloudy days feel brighter. Sleep welcomes us more readily, and is generally more restoring; waking is less of a chore.

ECOLOGY: Persian Silk Tree is an aggressive invasive species in the southern United States.  Up here in Massachusetts, it’ll grow (in fact, the photos were all taken in a small Somerville front yard, less than a mile from Herbstalk) but the climate doesn’t entirely suit it.  So it’s not going to take over.

SAFETY: While I’ve never run into any problems, and there are no reports (to my knowledge) of toxicity, I would suggest that Silk Tree be used cautiously in conjunction with pharmaceutical antidepressants, benzodiazapines, barbituates, and the supplement 5-HTP.  Personally, I’ve always been afraid to use neuroactive substances with anti-seizure drugs.  As with anything that may benefit anxiety and/or agitation, there’s the chance that taking a whole bunch of it may make you drowsy.

DOSING: 1.5-3 ml of the standard tincture, twice a day.  Or 15-20 grams of the bark, decocted, throughout the day.