The Cry of the Mother Hawk

Up on the hill, where the raspberries flower in purple, and the horsetail holds the soil, the Mother Hawk cries. I sling my pack over my shoulder and tuck a paper bag in, just in case. The grass pricks my legs and makes them itch. I watch for the clematis along the ground, cleverly covering for the poison ivy. I pass the spots I remember from walking each summer, and although a very short distance, the detail, variety, and richness of each step is revealed when on foot. The same rock, the same patch of Russian Olive, and the same dapplings of wild Oregano. I discover another huge Common Elder bush, flowering later than the one in the sun, where I am headed. The Vetch is on display with mathematical genius, making ample room for fairies to romp. The Sassafras is high here, adorned with layers of grape vines. Spikes of hearty mugwort make me feel right at home. Down below I can hear the river, running evenly through it's vein. The Mother Hawk's screams penetrate the air. I pass the Dogbane and multiflora, heading further up the hill. To my right, the crust of trees marks the wall of the forest, where within lies hidden dens and rocky mazes. I peer in, half hoping to see something new.
A squirrel peers back.

The Ferns are special here. Along the base of the trees, like handcrafted anklets, they feather out in humid joy. The Maiden hair fern is especially a treasure, with her jewel leaves and striking dark stem.
To my left, the open space makes a happy home for the sun bathing species. The brambles in excess, from predominantly wineberries, to red raspberries, blackberries, black raspberries, and the anticlimactic purple flowering raspberries, whose flower is much more sexy than the taste of it's rather bland fruit. The St. Johnswort finds the drier spots to thrive, and the groundnuts creep along the cliff side of the brambles.

Today I've come up just to observe. Sometimes, us herbalists, are forever distracted by the urgency of harvesting. Especially here is New England, when we are waiting for the right equation of blossom to sun, or distance from the road, and hoping that when the time arrives we aren't stuck at work. And so we get tangled. But today, while the kids are off with friends, I trod up alone to watch. To pay homage to the Mother Elder and all her kin. Just to watch the Hawk guard her nest. She cries so often, I think she is warning against me, the human. But the more I listen, the more I realize that I am not her enemy. She reacts to the crows who irritate her sense of territory, and to each car that rumbles up the road. To test my theory, I jump up and down, waving my hands and making noises. She just stares at me, with an expression similar to, perhaps, a teenager to her less than cool mother.

Without a single plant harvested, the Medicine up here is huge. The feeling of plenty, of wildness intact, of sensation and wonder. I smack mosquitoes with a little more appreciation for their vampire talents. I feel a sense of peace that only nature can provide. The place where the less I do, the better. Where who I am is everything and nothing.

This little spot is so small in the world. I ask it my heavy questions with never a clear answer. Is this home for me? Is this where I belong? Is this my purpose?

The Thunderstorms, expected again today, never came.
So I got to watch the hawk for even longer.

Who needs lettuce?

When you have Sassafras, Violet, and herbs? I suppose I cheated with the dressing ....

And the feta :)
YUM

A new Elder

Today, while going up to sit with Mother Elder, I discovered a new kind. Anyone know what species this is? It's so lovely.

Here are the ripening berries:
And, my eagerly awaited sit under the Elder. A whole year is just too long.
I am still gaining much healing from the tincture and oil I made last year. With so many birds here I don't even have a chance at the berries.

Sleepless Rain

Every season brings a new sleepless night. It seems to me that just before every equinox or Solstice, I have this; trouble sleeping, coupled with an unreasonably early rise. It's 4:30 am right now, I should be sound asleep. There is something in the turn of the season that wakes me up. Makes me restless. Everything shifts. The smells in the air change, the density of sunlight, the sounds of the wind, my dreams, and the times and pathways of the Moon and Sun across my sky. New emotions wiggle up and old ones play uncomfortable roles of nostalgia, like old costumes with no play. The crickets still sing, and even louder is the grey tree frog which has given me a few terribly sleepless nights lately with it's forceful volume and relentless two-tone trill. I love frogs, but I wish this one would move further from my house.

The rain is doing them well, I suppose. This weird rain. Almost every day has been beautiful; hot and sunny, sometimes hazy and more humid, and some days are so perfect I wonder where I am. But around 5:00, the clouds roll in, the thunder rumbles like a Giant's hungry stomach, and the lightning cracks like an angry schoolhouse yardstick. The storms come as if they are visiting from Florida or the Islands - not like our native storms - they feel bizarrely tropical. Their strength much greater than I remember. The rain dumps down in heavy bucket fulls and the wind blows it right into the windows. The plants once upright in pride are flattened. The longest days of sunshine are cut off by 6pm to host the darkness of the storms.

Once the heart of it passes, the trickle continues through the night, as if someone forgot to turn the hose off. The freshly bathed air sifts through the screens and lays itself on my restless body, like damp silk, calling me out of bed before dawn. As I type, I see the mist above the river, between the trees, yawning with a faint glow of slate blue. The earliest of the birds have begun their harmony. In a few moments, the coyote will be asleep again, and the bear, if there were any, visible from a safe distance. I can step outside and greet the emerging season. I can wash my face in the cool dew from the plants. I can wish for every day to feel like this air, this immortal water and precious earth, and this strange fire it makes in my heart.

Cooling herbs for summer: Magic Mint

This month's blog party, hosted by Alchemille, is all about how to stay cool in hot weather. First things first, I have to second Kiva's motion to make friends with a river. I know that it's not realistic for everyone, as there are many places not near to water. But if there is a way .... to get to the water, even if it means a cool bathtub or a kiddie pool, it beats any herb in this department.
I'm so in love with my river that it's probably holding us back from moving on in life in ways we should. I must be by fresh water. The way the surface illustrates the weather and the seasons, or the mood of the wind. Standing in the rush of the cool water, with hot sun on my shoulders and the honk of the Great Blue Heron, restores my deepest sense of self and of adaptability.

Along the riverbanks grows the wild mint. I try always to stop and say hello, pinch a little top to cool my senses, and thank it for staying wild. She keeps good company, alongside juicy, succulent chickweed, wild roses and calamus, all of which have varying degrees of coolness.

My garden takes lessons from the river. The mint crawls wildly through the roses, strawberries, and honeysuckle. She is particularly healthy this year, making frequent use easy and very helpful. A handful of mint steeped in a jar of water makes a multi-purpose cooler: we drink it of course, but also soothe our faces and hot shoulders with it, or make a batch just too add to a cool bath. Children's splinters can be coaxed out in a foot bath of mint and yarrow. Heat rash on infants or toddlers can be relieved with a mint infusion applied with a mister or cotton balls. Rinsing the hair with mint vinegar is a great way to treat your hair during the heat. And mint and melon balls - or mint whip cream on strawberries? yum!

See, mint helps our bodies regulate temperature in a couple ways. It assists our triple warmer, and it helps to move the heat that may be stagnant, so that it can be released through sweat and circulation, without actually increasing internal heat - like a chili or ginger might. And because it's a gentle plant it can be used often without any worries.

The anodyne properties help in relieving pain both internally and externally, which, if originate from inflammation, can become exacerbated in hot weather. It has been cited to relieve a wide range of ailments, from arthritis, to cold sores, to poison ivy, diaper rash, sunburn, and oral ulcers or gingivitis. Wounds are treated well by the numbing mint offers and the antibacterial action. Internally, mint is a classic and reliable digestive herb, helping to alleviate children's tummy aches and assist adult's metabolism of heavier foods.

Being such a vigorous grower, (some might dare to accuse it to be invasive) as well as endlessly versatile, no one should have to go without a cooling mint summer remedy in some form or another. I highly recommend making close friends with mint: grow a mint garden (there are so many!), eat the flowers in your salad, make a mint preparation with each of your menstrums and compare them..... including honey! Make a honey-mint liqueur for your special nights, or dry some leaves for a cooling powder.

Stuff some fresh mint leaves inbetween your toes before a long summer hike.

The whole mint family in general (Lamiaceae, formerly Labiatae) is truly an entire panacea in itself. With so many different genus', an easily identifiable botanical pattern, and geographically wide range, it's a first learn for herbal students. Especially children, who need to be able to eat, touch, taste, smell, and essentially merge with a plant in order to internalize it.

The botanical pattern: square stem, opposite leaves, irregular flowers, and often aromatic, is a simple set of rules for kids to remember and apply. Comparing different mints is fun and strengthens our powers of observation - lemon balm, rosemary, lavender, sage, monarda, oregano, motherwort, and ground ivy lined up in concert is beautiful and educational. If you have an ice cream maker, home-made cucumber-mint ice cream will be a coveted treat.

Swaddle yourself in mints this summer; staying cool, connected, and very healthy.

Treasures of the day

The day started early, waking me with the supremely loud call of our resident Pileated Woodpecker. Or, I should say residents. Those of you who know me have heard me go on and on about these amazing birds and how much I love them. When we moved here almost four years ago, there was one. Next year there were two babies (so there must have been two to begin with :) Now there is a good sized family who makes the rounds between the Audubon barn and down river to us. Their call is like a loud, medium-high pitched song of several "w's" strung together, as if you were calling someone long ahead on the trail, or like the classic Native American call that kids make to imitate them in a pow-wow. And did I mention how loud it is?



So this morning there were three that I could see right in our trees. The biggest of the woodpeckers, and striking in looks - looks exactly like Woody Woodpecker from the cartoon. Two of them a team, sibling or a couple, were foraging tree trunks for goodies. They do quite literally a spiral dance. In perfect unison, they spiral at a mild angle upwards, using a sapsucker-signature sidestep move. Alternating with the sidestep is a side flap, where they fly in this tandem fashion just one upward loop of their spiral, decorating it with their whooping call, before clawing again. It's one of the coolest bird things to witness.



So the morning was blessed with this great event, and I managed to sneak outside with my camera and steal a photo. Not a great one, but with this creature who is very shy and also fast - it's a real win.

Below, you can see my new experiment. I've inserted several branches of cut pussy willows into a part-shade, fairly moist area behind the house. Rumor has it that willows root and grow if you do this, so we shall see if it works. The smell is so great, that birchy smell from the salicylin.

The Sassy brew?? It is lovely tasting - but doesn't show any signs of fermentation........? No fizz, bubble or bite. Not enough whey?

Unconfusing the Comfreys

Thanks to Susun Weed for elaborating on this troublesome mix up in this issue of the
Wise Woman's Ezine.