![]() by Patrice Green As I write this, it's the day after the Summer Solstice, and a few days before Saint John's Eve/Day. We are in the midst of midsummer herbal magic! One of the most prolific plants at this time of year is the mysterious Saint John's Wort, Hypericum perforatum. I say mysterious because Saint John's Wort will suddenly appear in an area, stay for one or a few seasons, then will disappear only to re-appear in another location where it is most needed. This plant has a rich history of being used medicinally from Ancient Greece to the Crusades. Used to treat a variety of ailments including pain and bruises as well as mood swings, bed-wetting, and emotional issues, Saint Joh's Wort's Latin name is derived from the tiny perforations naturally occurring in the leaves (perforatum). The other half of its name symbolizes the sun, hypericum - named for Hyperion, the Greek Titan who fathered the Sun, Moon and Dawn. A sprig of Saint John's Wort over the door was traditionally thought to protect against evil spirits. Traditionally this plant was harvested on the morning of the Summer Solstice or the morning of Saint John's Day (June 24th), when the plant and its flowers were at their peak. It is always best to harvest this plant after a series of hot days for increased potency. by Patrice Green
One of the most beautiful spring flowers is the endangered Pink Lady's Slipper, Cypripedium acaule, also known as Mocassin Flower. If you come upon one (or several) as you amble through the woods this time of year, count yourself blessed! These beautiful flowers are in the orchid family. One of the reasons they are so rare is that they are slow growing and need very specific fungi to help the seedlings survive, specifically one from the Rhizoctonia genus. Most seeds have internal food supplies; but not so for the Pink Lady's Slipper. These orchid seeds require the assistance of the Rhizoctonia fungus to break open the seed. The fungus attaches to the seed, and then passes on food and nutrients. Once the plant reaches an age where it starts producing most of its own nutrients, the fungus then extracts nutrients from the orchid roots. A Pink Lady's Slipper plant can live twenty years or more. by Jennie Oceane Edgar Spring brings lovely scented flowers, lime green leaves, and the seasonal migration of birds that left the cold Northeast for their winter homes down South. Spring is also a time when we can step outside of our winter dens with our gathering baskets and walk through the meadows, along the forest’s edge, and even in to the woods to find fresh, abundant, and nourishing food. And for many food foragers, the beloved fiddlehead is a coveted delicacy. Fiddleheads are easily recognizable by their tightly curled tendril tops. They are delicate, elegant, and radiate a sweet, gentle, and peaceful energy. To admire a fiddlehead is to be held in awe of its energy, it’s burgeoning potential to sprout out of the long frozen earth and slowly, slowly unfurl itself to the world. That is, if a delighted forager doesn’t harvest the tops, first. This is why ethical and sustainable wildcrafting is so important – when harvesting fiddleheads, only take about 3 or 4 tops before moving on to the next patch. I never harvest more than 50% of a plant, and this practice ensures the plant will have ample ability to proliferate throughout the future seasons. Furthermore, harvesting living plants is also an exercise in gratitude – giving thanks is a wonderful way to build a relationship to the plant spirit realm, as well as a connection to the earth and ultimately, to ourselves. Together, let’s remember to be thankful for and mindful of the abundant food the wilderness offers us, now when the desolate winter is still a recent memory, as well as in each moment, always. Unfortunately, opinions differ in regard to the safety of consuming certain varieties of ferns. It is difficult to discern which ferns are likely to make one sick, as there are many time-tested instances of people eating fiddleheads from every variety of ferns and faring just fine. Plant identification is very important for any wild food forager, and as a general rule, it is very important to know exactly what plant you’ve encountered and its level of toxicity before you decide to put it into your body. Therefore, I recommend becoming acquainted with the ostrich fern, Matteucia struthiopteris, which is the most well-known and prolific fiddlehead in stores and restaurants. These ferns are easy to identify because of a prominent U-shaped trough running the length of the stem, on the inner side of the stalk. Furthermore, the stalks are smooth, with no fuzz or scales. In mid to late spring, harvest ostrich fern fiddleheads when they are 8 to 20 inches tall. Ostrich ferns will grow to be 3 to 6 feet tall, so the size of the plant is less important than the quality of the top, which should be tenderly firm and bright green, while the leaves of the frond remain unfurled. Simply snap the tops off of the stalk with your fingers. Although the fiddlehead is the coveted portion of the plant, the stalk itself is a juicy, refreshing, and nutritious food, and can be prepared alongside the fiddleheads for a scrumptious meal. And fiddleheads are a great food for the entire family because they are very nutritious, with high levels of vitamins A and C, as well as omega 3 and 6 fatty acids. This means that fiddleheads are a source of antioxidants. They also reduce inflammation and help the body fight the cold and flu. Fiddleheads contain minerals and electrolytes, especially potassium, iron, manganese, and copper. Furthermore, they are a wonderful source of fiber. While these ferns can be eaten raw, it is recommended that you don’t eat them uncooked in large quantities. Fortunately, there are many wonderful ways to enjoy fiddleheads. When I harvest fiddleheads with the intention of cooking them that night, I love to sauté them in garlic for a simple accompaniment to almost any meal. Since fiddleheads are only available for a short time, sometimes it’s nice to preserve and store them so they can be enjoyed months later. I’ve come to love pickled fiddleheads, and I look forward to exploring many different recipes. Let me know how you foraged and fixed your fiddleheads, and many thanks for reading my musings about our beloved fiddlehead, an ephemeral, nourishing food source that grows close to our homes, and close to our hearts. ![]() Jennie Oceane Edgar is the founder of Wildflower Revolution, a spiritual and educational resource that provides herbal products, services, and classes for all women who seek a conscious relationship with their fertility, sexuality, pregnancy, and overall reproductive well-being. Jennie is a doula, childbirth educator, community herbalist, and Masters candidate at Harvard Divinity School, where she studies earth-centered religions and their healing practices. 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. ![]() Henry Kesner is a founding member of Herbstalk, where he brings his event & operations management skills to the planning committee. A huge fan of the natural world, he has always found ways to serve as a voice for plants and animals of all kinds. For Henry, Herbstalk is a perfect way to educate a wide audience about the power, use, and wonder of the plants that surround us on a daily basis. 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) ![]() Michael “Mad Crow” Blackmore is an herbal educator who loves spending time with his plant friends in joyful play. He shares that joy with others through his writing and teaching, including the occasional blogging at his site Mad Crow Herbalism. 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. ![]() Patrice Green is an Herbal Educator, Certified Aromatherapist, Energy Medicine and Reiki Practitioner. She has studied Advanced Herbalism and Aromatherapy at the Boston School of Herbal Studies and has also studied Energy Medicine, Applied Shamanism and Psychopomp with Isa Gucciardi, PhD. She believes that holistic treatments used in conjunction with traditional Western medicine offer the individual the best of both worlds. Submitted by Michael Blackmore. English Oak (Querus rober) and friend; Family: Fagaceae We all know oak trees and we all love oak trees. But sadly, we don’t know them as well as we should including us herby folks who can forget the magic they offer. Well, at least some love oaks like they should…right, my squirrelly friend? There are a couple of classic species used by herbalists: Querus rober (English Oak) which is the mainstay of UK herbalism and Querus alba (White Oak) which is the oak of choice for US herbalism. Most of the common oak species have similar properties since the primary medicinal aspect are their tannins which are prominent in most oaks. The Northern Red Oak (Querus rubra) is one of the most common around here and quite useable for medicine making. Generally speaking oaks are broadleaf trees with distinct lobes and sinuses which are alternately placed rather than side to side. Their leaves are longer than wide and asymmetrical (in contrast to Maples which are symmetrical and shorter.) Only oaks have acorns which is one of their best identifiers. Black/Red Oaks have pointed lobes while White Oaks have rounded ones. Ideally, you make herbal preparations from the inner bark and you should use young twigs or small branches for it. However, you can also use the acorns, leaves and galls for it too. Historically, oak galls have also been used to make ink and many famous historical documents were written with oak ink, including the U.S. Constitution and Declaration of Independence. (And some Native Americans would use powdered oak galls for treating inflamed and infected eyes!) Thanks to its tannin content the primary action of oaks is astringent. Think of really strong black tea (which is also rich in tannins) and how tightening and bitter it is when you drink it. This is why it is great for dealing with excess fluid, easing inflammations, helping with bleeding, and as an antiseptic. You generally use it as a decoction or tincture to treat things like diarrhea and dysentery, or for hemorrhoids, mouth inflammations, nasal polyps, sort throats and wounds. You can use oak in so many ways:
Finally, I’ve been experimenting lately with making acorn unguent – unguents are oily pastes for wound healing, rashes and skin conditions. Essentially you make a decoction of acorns. (Be sure to throw away those that float when you first throw them in. ) Simmer it until the water is at least half its original volume. Press it out and mix (Slippery or Siberian) Elm bark powder to make a paste and apply as needed. Surprisingly good! So go out and find some oak love – you’ll never regret it! ![]() Michael “Mad Crow” Blackmore is an herbal educator who loves spending time with his plant friends in joyful play. He shares that joy with others through his writing and teaching, including the occasional blogging at his site Mad Crow Herbalism. Submitted by Felix Lufkin. Consider this an opportunity for an unexpected family reunion. Skunk cabbage is often framed as a nasty, stinky, swamp weed. Maybe we were victims of leaf attacks as kids. Maybe we just assume that any plant whose ecosystem role we can’t comprehend, that we don’t eat, that lives in shady, damp, boggy environments, and that smells unappetizing has no purpose, or at the very least, doesn’t inspire our interest. Truthfully, I didn’t know much about skunk cabbage until writing this piece – but it’s such a unique and interesting member of our local eco-family that it deserves more of our attention and respect. Skunk cabbage emerging in snow. It lives from Nova Scotia south to the Carolinas, west to the mid-west. As stated, it prefers slow moving woodland streams or bogs rather than the sunnier edges of faster rivers. It thrives in deep mud, forming big colonies in the woods. It’s a perennial in the Arum family, like jack-in-the-pulpit, or the famous, person-sized titan arums that stink up greenhouses from time to time. This is a strange and mysterious plant family with hood like flowers and often powerful medicines or poisons. Skunk cabbage is one of the first plants to emerge in the spring, as strange claw-shaped hoods with a bizarre, alien shaped flower inside. Strangely, skunk cabbage, like others in its family, is one of the few plants that can actually generate heat, up to 90 degrees warmer than the air temp, melting the ice and snow around each sprout so it can grow up above it. This can also help the flowers’ scent disperse as steam, and attracts pollinating flies and bees who can shelter in the warm flower. The early shoots are almost the only things that black bears break their hibernation fast on, until other foods emerge. Calcium oxalate crystals. Be careful!: Skunk cabbage, like jack-in-the-pulpit, produces calcium oxalate crystals in its leaves and other body parts. These small crystals are very sharp, like little glass ninja stars. When they touch our bodies’ tissue, especially mucous membranes in our mouths or stomachs, they get lodged and lacerate us – it is incredibly painful. These crystals make any part of skunk cabbage inedible raw. Nevertheless, it is, and has been used as, a food by many peoples. The crystals in the roots can be broken down only by VERY prolonged drying – 6 months or more, or are rendered harmless in the leaves by boiling in multiple changes of water. More information about preparing skunk cabbage for food, visit Arcadian Abe’s blog “Wild Cabbage”. Large skunk cabbage leaves. Leaves: These are crushed and used as a topical poultice for muscle, joint, arthritis pain or bruises. The leaves can be dried for 6 months, then cooked into a stew as emergency winter food (begin prep in the spring). The leaf shoots, which are white, thick, and hidden underground, can be boiled in changes of water to make a decent cooked veggie. (See link above). Roots: The roots of skunk cabbage are ‘contractile’, which pull the plants’ body deeper and deeper into the mud each season, extending the length of its leaf stalks. The tincture of the DRIED (see below) roots is an antispasmodic and nervine. It is used for menstrual cramps, bronchitis, intense coughs, both topically and internally, and topically for ringworm and possibly warts. For more information about its medicinal uses, see the Plant’s for a Future database site, Wikipedia, and this excellent Greenman Rambling blog post. Fruit of the skunk cabbage. Flower and fruit: The strange tropical-brain like fruit is a prized snack for bears – whose springtime scat is often found to be full of the peanut-sized, hard, pale and strange seeds. There’s nothing else that looks like it! ![]() Felix Lufkin teaches nature classes and wild edibles at K-12 schools and works with Help Yourself!, a project that plants public orchards and gardens in the Pioneer Valley. Help Yourself is currently running an Indiegogo campaign to raise money to plant more fruit trees and forest gardens locally. Felix also offers an on-site butchering service and instruction in central New England with Ape and Ape, Inc. 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. ![]() Felix Lufkin teaches nature classes and wild edibles at K-12 schools and works with Help Yourself!, a project that plants public orchards and gardens in the Pioneer Valley. He also offers an on-site butchering service and instruction in central New England with Ape and Ape, Inc. Submitted by Felix Lufkin. Milkweed’s names in other European languages – ‘silk weed’ in German, ‘little cotton’ in Spanish, and ‘wadding herb’ in French – reveal the utility this plant once had to settlers. Her fibrous outer bark can be hand-twisted into a very strong string known as cordage. This can be doubled up into virtually unbreakable rope. Gathering and preparing cordage is easy – each stalk can make a foot or two of yarn-thick, 50+ lb.-test string. Two-ply milkweed cord can easily hold hundreds of pounds – a friend of mine once towed his truck with pinkie-thick cordage. Considering the sweat shop origins of the string we use daily, couldn’t we stand to take our relationship with local fiber sources more seriously? Milkweed fiber cordage If you’re a visual learner, check out this or a number of other videos on Youtube: Making cordage video on youtube with Chad Clifford. Gathering stalks: For cordage, harvest the dead, black milkweed stalks in the fall on a dry day after their fruits have ripened and the seeds are drifting away. Don’t wait until the winter as the weather will break down the fibers over time. Shake the seed fluff while harvesting to help spread them. If the stalks are damp, dry them before working. Tie unprocessed stalks together to store indefinitely. Milkweed seeds Processing stalks: To remove the fibers from the stalks, crack each stalk between thumb and fingers all the way along their length so the stalk can be split lengthwise, into two or more parts, using a finger. You’ll see the black, fibrous, papery outer skin, and the hard, pale, brittle inner bark. If we try to peel the fibers in strips from the inner bark, they will break into small lengths. The best way separate them is to crack the stalk, core side up, along its whole length in inch long increments with your fingers. Carefully peel each chunk of inner core out, piece by piece, yielding as long strips of fiber as possible. Processing fiber: Do as many stalks as you’d like, then gather all the fibers together and roll them in a ball back and forth (like clay) between your hands to remove the papery skin, which will flake off. This makes the cordage stronger. This fiber ball is great in tinder bundles for igniting coals. Tease the ball apart into a yarn-like length of uniform thickness, half as thick and twice as long you’d like the cordage to be – from thread sized to shoelace size. Don’t make it longer than two feet at a time or it will tangle. Roll this yarn between your hands the way you’d make a clay snake, until it’s contiguous and uniformly thick. Move a bit here and there if need be. Preparing cordage: Find the midpoint of the snake, and go a few inches to one side. Twist this between your fingers until it gets tight enough so it relaxes to a “support our troops” folded ribbon if you move your fingers together slightly. Twist the loop tight and pinch it with your non-dominant hand. Hold the string so its two halves aim outwards towards your other hand, at right angles to each other like the arms of the letter K – with a top one and a bottom one. Twisting the cordage – in three easy steps:
When you want to end, tie a knot. Keep in mind you will end up with cordage half as long as your original fibers. By doing this technique, the cordage comes out 20 times stronger than the original fibers. Doubling the cordage up (2-ply) and flipping the directions so as not to undo the original twists, will make it 400x as strong, then 8000x, and so on. You can use a lighter to quickly burn off the small fuzzy hairs if the cordage comes out ragged. ![]() Felix Lufkin teaches nature class and wild edibles at K-12 schools, and is working to plant orchards and gardens in public places in the Pioneer Valley. He also offers an on-site butchering service and instruction in central New England. |
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