Summer-Night Black

So, I have to admit to being intrigued with what are known as the witches’ herbs. I have yet to actually ingest any, but I have them growing and have made tinctures and poultices for external application. The list includes black henbane (Hyscyamus niger), datura (Datura stramonium), mandrake (Mandragora officinalis) and belladonna (Atropa belladonna). All have a rich history of what, in my opinion, is often demeaningly referred to as “folklore.” Of course, the vast majority of non Christian, non Western, non FDA approved medicine is relegated to be based in the non scientifically substantiated category of folklore.

Belladonna, which means “beautiful woman,” is the latest harvest. These berries are jet black and shine like polished onyx or obsidian. Looking at one is to peer into an abyss-like multidimensional blackness where spatial perspective eludes the beholder. It is to view a tiny piece of black hole in the form of a centimeter-wide sphere.

The berries and really the whole plant, is considered to be lethally poisonous, with 10 berries said to be the deadly dose for the average adult. With such a background, it’s no wonder it is commonly known as deadly nighthshade. This is a photo of twelve berries.

All the fear-mongering aside, belladonna is a very important herb, as are all the other herbs mentioned above. Its alkaloids are even used in emergency rooms today to dilate the pupils and relieve pain. It is also purported to be an effective wound healer. So much for “folklore.”

For now, the plan is to harvest about 24 more berries and make a tincture. The berries have been ripening at the rate of 4 to 5 every two days. Previously, I used some leaf in a footbath for a friend who suffered a severe stubbed toe. It eased the pain quickly and helped heal the obvious internal damage (made apparent by the penny-sized blood clot visible beneath the nail on his big toe as well as his inability to walk at all or even put a sock or shoe on).

I have already made tinctures with datura and henbane. Mandrake has proven a bit more tricky. I have yet to get the one plant I have to bloom. It “dies” back every year, but sends up new leaves the following spring. Just when the leaves are beginning to become lavish, they get attacked by snails and/or slugs, then the plant dies back again. The next year, it tries yet again. This has gone on for 4 years now. I’ve tried snail pellets, but obviously I’m not applying it often enough to keep them entirely at bay until the plant blooms. I may start new ones and keep them indoors in pots.

Anyway, back to the topic at hand and the start of my first belladonna tincture.

Summer Yellow

It’s been a minute, as they say. I tried blogging with another host, but wasn’t feeling it. So, I’m back.

Anybody out the~~~~~re…..?

No one would know it from the looks of this blog, but I’ve actually been a busy, busy worker bee, both with my 9 to 5 and also at home.

A lot has transpired since my last post, but I won’t bore whoever you are with that.

The latest intrigue in the yard has been yellow flowers. Specifically, Evening Primrose and St. John’s-wort.

Once in a while I still laugh at how I was duped by the “prim” in evening primrose into believing that it would be a diminutive and fragile herb, only to have half my garden space strong armed by the behemoth. Sure, the flowers alone could possibly be classified as prim, but the plant as a whole is anything but.

This is the specimen in my yard. Photo taken sometime around July 4, 2011:


Here are freshly picked flowers:


And a jar of freshly dried flowers:


I had so many flowers from this one large plant and one medium-sized plant, that I also made a syrup and a tincture.

I could go into the history and uses, but why not use a few links? It’s mostly info I read somewhere else anyway:

http://www.pfaf.org/user/Plant.aspx?LatinName=Oenothera%20biennis

http://www.herbs2000.com/herbs/herbs_evening_primrose.htm

I’ve tried a tea from fresh flowers and dried. The dried version more suits my palate. Fresh, you get a lot of mucilage and a, …how can I put this? …A mild morally sordid smell…? Whatever smell one would associate with morally sordid is up to each individual. Nevertheless, I’ll leave it at that. ☺ When I drank a tea sweetened with the primrose syrup, I had no particular health issues, so the mucilage in the tea made my throat mucousy. I can imagine how that effect might be soothing to someone with a dry cough.

It is a beautiful plant. I only purposely planted it once. Since then, owing to its tendency to self seed profusely, it comes up wherever it wants, which just so happens to be a notably different location each year. Since it blooms in the evening, it’s one of the plants that hummingbirds go to for a last call before turning in for the night.

St. John’s-wort, the natural mood enhancer, wound healer, muscle relaxer, viral combater, sleep inducer and so on and so forth, is another yellow flowered beaut. A lot of interesting history associated with this plant, plenty of which precedes its connection with Christianity’s St. John the Baptist.

A good read:

http://www.sacredearth.com/ethnobotany/plantprofiles/stjohn.php



These flowers were just recently harvested from plants I started from seed back in 2003. I have made massage oils and tinctures from its flowering tops. This time, I decided to go back to simple tea and dried a nice sized batch.


And check out the crop’s first tea. Its gorgeous rosé hue is all in the glands. The tiny oil glands which cover the yellow flower petals and green leaves and which exudes a red oil whose main constituent is hypericin. It is this hypericin which is one of the components responsible for the many benefits that we reap from St. John’s-wort. Its bountiful tannins also play an essential role in this plant’s ancient and modern popularity in herbalism.

...and the livin' is easy.

Well, maybe after months and months of grueling hard work, 2 failures for every success and battling vermin from above and below. And even then, only if you can find the time between a full-time job (with plenty of overtime), dealing with the drama of various family members and of course working, as opposed to relaxing, in the yard.

But then it happens. Those stolen precious moments, like when you're sitting on that strategically placed flat stone that provides perfect seclusion from all directions (not an easy task in any major metropolis) for slowly being hypnotized by the sway of looming sunflowers. Or, like when you're peering back at nasturtium flowers that are peeking at you from amongst palm branches which they climbed up as if to get a better view of the garden. Or like when a pair of hummingbirds suddenly darts directly in front of you, hover for a moment before breaking into a mid-air song and dance just inches from your face, then swoop right over you to snatch a couple of strands of hair from your head for their nest, like a scene straight out of Pixar.

Ok, maybe it wasn't a few inches in front of me, but a couple of feet. And the hair snatching..., entirely made up.

But whatever. It's summer!!

And the livin'


....is easy.


Here are some pics taken during the July 4th weekend. Enjoy. I know I did. :)


West side's thriving plantain



The north wall: sunflower, horehound, lion's tail, some 5-year old Echinacea, and yarrow and plum



Valerian and rosemary on the north side



More of the north wall, with Echinacea, 6-year old motherwort, plum, kumquat and aloe



Aloe vera (from a friend) and 7-year old comfrey on the north side



Echinacea angustifolia (from a friend) on the north side



Potted 3-year old Ephedra on the north side



3-year old Chinese rhubarb on the east side



More east wall: evening primrose and marshmallow



East wall with 7-year old St. John's-wort and aloe on the right, and red shiso and 4-year old Chinese licorice on the left



4-year old Goji berry on the eastern wall



Plants waiting for a permanent spot in the garden: jojoba, walnut, Stevia, a type of mallow, Ephedra, holly and creosote bush



Front yard on the south side


All of the above areas around the yard were flat and either covered with dead grass or cement when I moved in a bit over 3 years ago. I should find one of the before pictures.....

Summer teas for winter ease

Just some teas that I harvested over the summer: Lion's-tail, Hyssop, Red Clover, Marshmallow, Lavender and Dragonhead. The Red Clover is from 6-year old plants. It was one of the herbs I started when I first had....

"The Epiphany!"

At the time, I was living in Richmond, CA, and they traveled with me from there to San Leandro then to East Oakland, going from ground to pot and back and forth a couple of times before finally finding their permanent spot in the spring of 2009. They must have been pretty pent up, because they bloomed with a vengeance.

So, what can I say about Red Clover (Trifolium pratense)? For those who believe in plant "signatures," the reddish hue of the florets might clue you in to its affinity for our blood in that it is said to remove toxins from it. It also has diuretic properties, which too help remove toxins from our system, through the kidneys and bladder, by making us pee a lot. Red Clover is called a phytoestrogen. This means it has plant (phyto) constituents which resemble, or mimic, the human hormone, estrogen. Isoflavones, of which Red Clover is rich in, are believed to be the source of its phytoestrogens, and are responsible for its reputed effectiveness against some of the adverse effects of menopause and certain types of cancer. The blood-thinning substance known as coumarin is another important component of Red Clover. For this reason, people who have a blood clotting deficiency or are on blood thinning drugs, are cautioned regarding its usage.



Now, with all the boring, soul-assassinating pseudo science out of the way, Red Clover tastes good! Fresh, it reminds me of alfalfa sprouts and on really lucky days, I discover a few drops of sweet nectar in them. As a dry tea, they have more of a pleasant grassy aroma and flavor. Oh, and a piece of advice about this herb: do NOT get between a bee and his Red Clover. He will chase you down! Come to think of it, with the exception of Marshmallow, pretty much all of the herbs spotlighted in this entry are bee magnets. Then again, Marshmallow flowered profusely, so I see no reason why the workers wouldn't have made a bee-line for it as well. Maybe I just didn't visit that part of the garden regularly enough or at the right time of day to observe its popularity among bees. Anyway, this is an important point to keep in mind if you consider the recent scary reports of the dwindling number of bees. Plant flowers, folks!



Hyssop, another bountiful harvest this year, has magical medicine which some attribute to its volatile oils. There was at one time a theory that its ability to fight off colds and sore throats was because of a propensity for penicillin to grow on the backs of its leaves. Then there are the biblical references and the divinity often attributed to anything associated with the Scriptures. Although, it has been debated as to whether the hyssop mentioned in the bible isn't really marjoram or oregano. Either way, isn't it mystery like this that keeps it all intriguing? Allows our imagination to flourish? Gives the notion that anything is possible wings? Let's not forget the one undeniable truth about medicine: that what you believe, be it positive of negative, true or false, has real-life manifestations.

Whatever you believe, alls I know for sure is that a strong tea with the fresh leafy herb has cured my cold and flu on several occasions. It is one of my top 3 herbs for combating cold and flu season, the others being Plantain (Plantago lanceolata or P. major) and Lemon Balm (Melissa officinalis). The three fresh herbs combined and infused with boiling water make a delicious, soothing and healing tea. I don't have much experience with them dried, but that will probably change next year.

Lion's-tail's gift to me was my first experience of what it probably feels like to be a witch. First off, this plant is bee-eautiful. The depth and resonance of the orange of its flowers is mesmerizing and the configuration of its petioles combines to make for a truly awe-inspiring vision. Originating from S. Africa, this plant is also very draught tolerant, once it is established. And again, bees clearly find the trouble of wriggling their way up into the flowers' tubular caverns well worth the struggle. Lion's-tail exudes a resin which some Africans smoke as a treatment for asthma and other pulmonary complications.


Ok, so another name for this plant is Wild Dagga. The reason for that stems from reports that claim that smoking the orange flowers produce an awareness similar in effect to that experienced when smoking marijuana. However, after reading various personal accounts on the web, I have found that the general opinion is that it is a much weaker version. Whatever the case, I collected a cookie jarful of the fallen orange petals ...to give to my brother in-law to try. Yeah, that's it. I collected them for my brother in-law. Cuz I'm considerate like that. [For the record, I am not a smoker, but support medicinal and recreational - within reason - use]

Oh right. So, about that "witch" experience.

Maybe next time.....

The heart of the home

This is how the kitchen garden has been looking since from around late February. The rain was truly a miracle worker. I intentionally packed the plants tightly together so I could get lots of herbs and veggies for the relatively small space in the backyard.

You might think that Calendula (pot marigold) is kind of out of place in a kitchen garden. Well, aside from the fact that the kitchen is considered the heart of the home, and that Calendula, being one of the first plants I grew when I got into herbalism and gardening, has a special place in my heart (I know. Can I get a group "Awww…?!"), aside from all that, its young leaves are good in mixed green salads. And, you gotta admit, it looks dang happy where it is.

As you can see, the arugula have pretty much gone past the stage of salad ingredient and are in full bloom. Truth is, it was my first time to grow it and I think I kinda went overboard. Although two or three plants would have sufficed, I got loooots, having sowed them in situ and then not having the guts to sufficiently thin out the seedlings. I still eat some of the smaller leaves from the big plants, and can't tell the difference.



The Japanese white radish ("Daikon") and the cilantro are used most in my house. My housemate's friend is from Mexico and when he comes over, he chops the cilantro up in salads, salsas and guacamole, and uses it as a condiment for tostadas, enchiladas, omelets and soups. My housemate is from Japan and he likes to marinate or pickle thinly sliced rounds of the white radish with mirin, a dash of soy sauce, cayenne pepper and some other stuff. He also uses thicker semicircles in miso soups, or julianned in cold radish and carrot salads.

I love my leek soup, so I've been growing leek religiously for several years now. I also like the whole leek braised in olive oil and red wine vinegar. It's cooked in foil with a petite sprig of thyme thrown in, until the leek is very tender. Good for barbeques. Thing about leeks, you have to gently separate the layers, without pulling the plant completely apart, to wash out grit that grows between them. This tends to happen with leek, because in order to get nice thick and white stalks (the part you eat), you need to mound the dirt up around the base as the plant grows. So, some of the dirt tends to grow inside its folds.



I've never grown beet before, and don't recall ever being much of a fan, to be honest. But when I was at a store looking for seeds that grow well during winter months, that was one that was recommended. I've since researched various recipes, and am looking forward to trying a beet soufflé today or tomorrow.

There are other areas around the house, outside of the "kitchen garden," where I grow foods. For example, the taro are grown on the east side of the house, as opposed to the kitchen garden which is located on the west side. Basil, stevia and eggplant are growing in the front yard, where there's more sunlight. These photos represent the areas where the edibles are most concentrated.

Ok, I made the beet soufflé today and it was scrumptious. I'm not crazy about beets, but I loved this combination. Here's what's left of it. I'll try to add a link to the recipe later.


Here's the link to Recipe Source's Beet Greens Soufflé. Only parts I changed was, I added one extra beet, a little extra cheddar cheese and dropped a few pieces of chopped beet on top. Also, instead of chicken broth, I used vegetable broth. Oh, and I used all 4 egg yolks. Another thing, the recipe calls for cooked beets and sauteed beet greens. To cook the beets, I just boiled them in slightly salted water until they were fairly tender; about 15 minutes. To sautee the greens, I put 2 tbsp of olive oil in a frying pan and added the coursely chopped greens. Later, I add a couple tbsp of left-over vegetable broth and sauteed a little while longer.

Tincture for two....

....and two for tincture.

Well, I'm still single, so on second thought, make it a double for one. Nyuk, nyu~k!

My love life may suck, but I've been getting better at making tinctures. When I first started, I would often use course pieces of fresh plant material and didn't care too much about ratios or how long the mixture had macerated. This was mostly due to some of the books I read in the beginning. Many didn't go into enough detail. There'd be a sentence like, "Loosely fill a jar with [some herb] and pour enough alcohol to just cover it. Shake vigorously daily for 2 weeks. Decant, bottle and label."

So, I ended up with several very weak tinctures, partly because of the above simplistic instructions, but also because I wasn't too concerned with factors like harvest time, specific plant parts, alcoholic strength and so on. But that's a thing of the past. Eight or nine books and a semester of microbiology and an Introduction to Herbal Medicine Making class later, I think I've made some progress.


I do tend to prefer tinctures made with fresh plant material to dried, but I have done both and in some cases substantial evidence exists as to why one method is superior to the other depending on the herb. I've also started using a blender or food processor to get the botanical parts cut up as minutely as possible. Now, I actually weigh the herb and decide beforehand what herb-to-menstruum ratio is favorable; usually between 1:2 and 1:4 for the herbs I currently grow. However, there are more poisonous herbs, such as monkshood, the seeds of which I have gestating under mulch as I type this, for which a 1:10 ratio is preferable.

Alcoholic strength is another detail I've been paying more attention to, if only as a mental notation. Truth be told, my budget won't allow me to purchase enough of the 190-proof ethyl alcohol, or even the 151-proof Everclear for that matter. So, most of my tinctures are made with 40% (80-proof) vodka and recently, I've started using gin, thinking the medicinal properties of the juniper berries used to flavor it would combine well with the herbs being steeped in it. I have even found some 90-proof gin that is very reasonably priced. Since the alcoholic strength is not as strong as I ideally would like, I am extra careful with the other steps. In addition, careful attention is paid to the parts of the plants being used and the time at which they are harvested, and notations are made on labels to reflect this. Finally, I've found comfortable and effective, if crude, means of straining the spent plant matter from the medicine-laden menstruum.

The photo above is of several tinctures I've prepared over the last 6 months or so. What amazes me most is how two different plants may go into their respective tincture preparation looking pretty much equally green and leafy, but yield entirely different colors in the finished product. For example, both Bacopa monnieri and Centella asiatica, shown below, are medium green in color and low-growing creeping herbs. Both have long histories of medicinal use in India and both are referred to as "brahmi" in Sanskrit. Yet, when all the chopping, steeping and shaking was done, Centella came out an opaque sort of honey and lemon color with the slightest pale green tinge, while Bacopa has a dark yet clear amber-like color. Milk thistle, on the other hand, was made from seeds that resemble brown rice that had been uniformly roasted to a darker, almost burnt brown. The tincture, as you can see (above pic), came out looking like milky coffee.

Although I still have a lot to learn, it's an art form that I feel has already become second nature for me.

Toothache Plant - Spilanthes acmella

Now this is a fun plant – one you can use to get the kids interested in our green brothers and sisters, and hermaphrodites! I came across Spilanthes acmella while browsing through a botanical encyclopedia. I remember gleaning from the description of medicinal properties that it numbs toothaches and boosts the immune system. But it was a photo of a young man who had plucked one of the button-shaped flowers and was poised to pop the whole thing into his mouth that really grabbed my attention. So, I placed my order of seeds thinking its low-growing habit and unusual flowers would make for a unique ground cover and that it'd be cool to eat one of those flowers for myself.

The seeds arrived and I planted them in paper cups. The germination rate was pretty good and I ended up transplanting about eight seedlings in the front yard and four in the back. By the time they bloomed, roughly three and a half months had passed since I'd been inspired by the photo of the man preparing to devour a flower whole. On the day I had decided that it was my turn to taste the botanical hors d'œuvre, I rushed eagerly outside – totally forgetting much of what I'd read months earlier – picked a perfectly formed blossom and observed it from every angle then opened wide and dropped it in. Within 10 seconds I was intrigued with the unusual effects it was having on my mouth. Within 20 seconds I was like, "Wow! This is intense!!" After 30 seconds I was nearly gasping for air, wondering what the hell I'd gotten myself into and hoping it would quickly end.

Spilanthes isn't especially bad tasting for a flower. A slight acrid flavor is what you notice first, followed by copiously flowing saliva. This is caused by certain compounds in Spilanthes which stimulate the salivary glands. Interesting to note here is how that alone could very well signal a formidable immune response, as our saliva contains various enzymes and antibodies which are capable of killing certain germs and neutralizing the toxins of many others. Saliva is the first line of defense against agents of infection which enter the body through the mouth. So, increasing the flow of saliva would logically increase the body's ability to fight off orally or possibly even nasally transmitted infections. On top of that, the herb itself is a promising antibacterial, proven to inhibit the growth of E. coli, salmonella, pneumonae, staph, candida, and others in in vitro tests. I just might chew on one of these again at the first sign of a sore throat.

Another thing about its effect on the salivary glands, and this is my own speculation; I have an older sister who suffers from a relatively uncommon disorder known as Sialolithiasis, or salivary gland stones. It is usually due to a lack of saliva flow resulting in the buildup of calcium-rich stones. These stones can block ducts and eventually cause a back up of saliva, which leads to swelling and potentially an assortment of infections and of course, pain. This is just speculation on my part, but I think Spilanthes may come to the rescue here also. Why? Well, it turns out that saliva isn't the only thing that Spilanthes improves the flow of. It is also an effective diuretic and its diuretic action has been shown to dissolve kidney stones. Well, if it gets urine flowing and this helps break up kidney stones, then the fact that it gets the saliva flowing is at least a good argument for seeing if it might not break up salivary gland stones.

So, back to my first nibble of Spilanthes. After my mouth filled up with warm saliva, a tingling sensation spread throughout my entire oral cavity and quickly intensified. The combination caused me to start gagging a little. Mentally, however, since I didn't know what was happening and started having flashes of myself dying of asphyxiation from a swollen tongue and throat, the fear factor probably led me to start gagging a lot more than necessary. Feeling like I wasn't able to get enough oxygen, I began gulping like a fish out of water. Thankfully it didn't last long. Soon, the intensity started to subside and my gulping was downgraded to mere excessive swallowing. Soon, that too normalized.

Despite my personal Little Shop of Horrors story above, Acmella is a safe, mostly harmless plant. My reaction was mostly psychological in nature, because I dove right into it not knowing, or, forgetting what to expect. Had I prepared myself mentally before scarfing it down, I think my response would have been more on the macho side as people who know me have come to expect.

....Yes. You may laugh now.

No, but really, I have subsequently eaten whole flowers, which, don't get me wrong, still provide fairly intense experiences, but nothing near the panic attack I had the first time. Ok and I'll admit I exaggerated just a bit for dramatic effect. ....Alright, maybe a little more than just a bit. Hey! It worked, didn't it?! Anyway, for beginners, I would recommend starting with one small leaf, as the leaves have a significantly milder affect compared to the flowers.

People around the world have used Acmella for thousands of years, and today it is enjoyed in combination teas and salads and as cooked greens. It is often described as a peppery taste. I think it falls somewhere between the hotness of Tabasco Sauce and wasabi with a little something else to boot. It is most notably used to relieve toothaches and tonify the gums and is commonly given to teething children. Depending on the severity of the pain and the individual's sensitivity to the herb, its painkilling effects can last for up to 20 minutes per application.

For my own toothache, I made a tincture from flowers and leaves and 45% gin. After blending the ingredients, allowing them to macerate for a few weeks and then straining it out, I bottled it, and put a portion of the finished product into a dropper bottle. This allows me to more precisely direct its application than chewing on a flower or leaf does. If you need frequent applications, however, you might not want to swallow the tincture every time. As an alternative, I've found that taking a swig and holding it in my mouth for about 15 seconds on the area that hurts then spitting it out also works very well.

So, give it a try. But start with small pieces, especially if giving it to children.