by Patrice Green of Green Aromatics

The miracle of herbs and plants is that when taken responsibly and respectfully they do not deaden the emotions.  As gentle, loving, supportive allies, plants help us work through the lessons we are here to learn.  In particular, roses do this beautifully.

by Vincent Frano

Lavender is one of the best loved and most well known herbs around. As a common addition to soaps, perfumes, lotions, and even cleaning products, Lavender is all around us. You’ll be hard pressed to find someone who isn’t familiar with its scent, at the very least. Most are familiar with its use in aromatherapy for its relaxing and calming effects, but Lavender has much more to offer.

Lavender has become one of my most valuable medicine cabinet herbs and is now part of my daily routine. While Lavender may be used internally, it’s external uses are many and just as valuable. In fact, I prefer working with this herb externally and rarely use its medicine internally. It’s simple, gentle, and safe for just about everyone of all ages. Some people are allergic to Lavender and may develop a skin rash, so always do a spot test first if you are unsure.

It is said that Lavender’s Latin name (Lavandula spp.) is derived from Old French lavandre, meaning “to wash”, eluding to its use as a bathing herb. A hot Lavender bath is certainly one of the herb’s most popular uses. For a relaxing bath I recommend making a strong tea, using dried or fresh lavender flowers, by steeping the herb for at least 30 minutes to an hour. Draw your bath and pour the strained infusion into the running water. Epsom salts may be added as well to aid in relaxing tense muscles. If you don’t have time to make tea, simply add 30 to 60 drops (roughly ½ teaspoon) of essential oil to your bath water.

A hot Lavender bath does more than simply calm and relax your mind, it has a similar effect on your body. A body ravaged by tension or stress would do well with some Lavender. The herb is warming and stimulating, helping to loosen and move stagnation. This aids in the relaxing of tense or knotted muscles and in moving congested lymph. The steam from a hot bath disperses Lavender’s fragrant aroma, which has a calming effect upon the nervous system. Lavender’s scent is soothing, uplifting, and calming. It is beneficial to those who suffer from depressed mood, stress, anxiety, insomnia, and fatigue.

One of my favorite uses for Lavender is treating tension headaches. An infused oil, salve, or essential oil in a carrier oil may be applied directly to your temples, forehead, and back of the neck. Additionally, all of these applications are wonderful in massages for the lymph glands (particularly along the neck), muscles, joints, breasts, shoulders, or feet. Every morning after washing up I will use a lavender salve to massage along my neck, jaw line, and behind my ears. I’ve noticed it has helped reduce the swelling of my lymph glands in that area, which had been a persistent issue for me.

Lavender is a vulnerary herb and can be applied topically to acne, eczema, small wounds, and dry skin to aid in the healing process. A tea wash, salve, or infused oil are all useful in these cases. It is also a handy pest-repellant, particularly the essential oil, which can be added to bug sprays to keep away some insects. Of course, you can also keep a Lavender sachet by your pillow or apply some Lavender oil before bed to help relax you into sleep.

These are just a few of Lavender’s many talents, which I encourage everyone to explore. It’s a valuable herb that goes far beyond its fragrant perfume, a benefit to men and women alike in this stressful, modern world.

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 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 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.

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:

• As a gargle for sore throats, mouth inflammations and coughs (decoction)
• As a cream or salve for hemorrhoids
• As wash for burns and wounds and generally as a disinfectant (decoction)
• As a mouthwash for bleeding gums (decoction)
• Chew on the bark for mouth ulcers and sores
• Use for poison ivy (tincture – the decoction won’t work as well because while the tannins help deal with the rash aspect, the alcohol part of the tincture helps disperse and breakdown the oil)
• Use for rashes (tincture or decoction)
• Use in salve form for muscular pains
• The leaves make for quick field medicine – soften by steaming or immersing in boiled water or just crush them a bit and apply them to wounds to ease inflammation and as an antiseptic
• Drink as a tea for diarrhea (Since the tannins tend to block nutrient absorption don’t take it for more than a couple of days – use it only to deal with the immediate problem of diarrhea and not as a daily tea.)

A couple of fun general oak uses that I love include the tradition of carrying an acorn to feel youthful. Or that the flower remedy is used to help folks be brave and strong in their lives, especially those who have trouble accepting their own weaknesses.

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!

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!