Embracing Autumn: A Harvest Dolly

Harvest Dolly made from my favourite herbs, August 2021

A traditional harvest custom I've always liked is that of weaving corn dollies from the last sheaf of grain to be cut. The idea came from the notion that the spirit of the crop needed a place to reside over the winter months, as it had effectively been made homeless when the fields of grain were cut and harvested. The last sheaf of wheat would be  gathered with great ceremony and plaited or woven into a shape known as a 'corn dolly', which was then kept through the winter in a safe place indoors and treated as an honoured guest. In spring when it was time to sow the next year's crop, the corn dolly was usually ploughed back into the soil, releasing the spirit of the crop back into the land.

Making such corn dollies is a skilled job. There are many, many different shapes and designs which have been created over the years, some of which are specific to particular areas of the UK (or further afield).

The idea of offering honour and shelter to the spirit of the green is appealing, yet not only do I lack the skill to weave any of these intricate designs, but as I am not a grain farmer I lack the wheat too! Of course, it's possible to buy wheat straw to make yourself a corn dolly - you can find just about anything online! - but somehow to me, that lacks the emotional/spiritual connection that you would have with a crop that you'd grown yourself. Then I had an idea - if the purpose of the corn dolly is to offer honour and protection to the spirits of a plant you are in relationship with, why not make a 'Harvest Dolly' instead, composed of the plants in your garden or neighbourhood that you feel have a connection to yourself. These plants could be the ornamental plants that you love (your favourite rosebush or clematis), vegetable plants that have fed you and your family through the summer, wild plants, trees and weeds that you adore, or plant allies that you work with spiritually.

This year, I decided to make a Harvest Dolly from my favourite herbs. If you'd like to make your own Harvest Dolly, there are detailed instructions below. 

Embracing Autumn: Create Your Own Harvest Dolly

• Decide which plant(s) you'd like to use. Harvest them with respect and only after asking permission from the plant itself. Don't take more than you need, and cut the plant cleanly. This is all about honouring the spirit of the plant, and maintaining a good, mutually respectful relationship with it.        

Cutting spearmint from the herb garden with my boline.

Close-up of a peppermint flower

My bunch of herbs included spearmint, peppermint, eau-de-cologne mint, lemon verbena, camomile, oregano, sage, rosemary, St John's wort, thyme, fennel, mugwort and lemon balm

• To make your Harvest Dolly, gather your plant material into a bunch. About halfway up the bunch, tightly tie some ribbon and finish it with a bow. This is your Harvest Dolly's 'waist'. I like to use red ribbon for this - partly because red thread is often used in protective folk magic charms, partly because red can symbolically stand for 'life', and partly because aesthetically the red makes a good contrast to all that green! Obviously, you can use which ever colour you like.
• Turn the bunch upside down. The full, leafy, flowery half of your bunch forms the 'skirt' of your Harvest Dolly. The stem half will form her torso and head.
• Find something straight and fairly rigid to make 'arms' (for this I cut a small bundle of dried grass stems from the hedgerow - I felt they would be a good representative of the wild plants of the locale). Push them through and at right angles to the stems of the plants you have gathered. The stems should be gathered tightly enough to hold the arms in place, but if you want to you can use some thread to tie them more securely.
• Use some thread to tightly tie the bunch again, this time above the arms. This is your Harvest Dolly's 'neck'. You should have an inch or two of stems above this which form her head.
• If you'd like to add a head/face you could use a seedpod, nutshell, round leaf etc, or make one out of paper/card or even air-drying clay. I used the seedpod from an honesty plant (Lunaria annua). There was enough of a stem on the seedpod to push down under the neck thread, which was sufficient to hold it in place. You could use thread, a cocktail stick or glue to hold your Dolly's face in place if necessary. If you like, you could draw features onto the face (I decided to leave mine plain).
• Voila! You are finished, although if you like you could 'dress' your dolly by wrapping her in fabric or making her a tiny necklace or crown...
• Put her somewhere dry and well-ventilated, where she will be able to gradually dry out. Her bright colours will fade as she dries, but she will still be beautiful.
• Next spring, dig her into your garden soil, or leave her as an offering in your favourite green space. 
• I've added a rough diagram below which I hope will make clear anything my words have failed to describe adequately.   

My finished Harvest Dolly

A rough diagram which may help clarify my written instructions!

 

Embracing Autumn: Blackberry Time

 

August is the time of the grain harvest, but of course it's also the month that the blackberry harvest begins. I've been eagerly anticipating the first juicy black berries of the season, but I was still happily surprised when I realised the first few had appeared.

Most of the earlier season berries we enjoy in this country are cultivated - strawberries, gooseberries, currants, raspberries, loganberries, tayberries and blueberries; while most of the other 'wild' berries - rowan berries, elderberries, haws, rosehips and sloes - are best processed in some way before eating. Blackberries, however are wild, free, bountiful and perfectly delicious plucked straight from the vine. No wonder they've been eaten by humans for at least 8,000 years (according to the archaeological evidence)! It's not just humans who benefit from this fantastic resource - the berries are also eagerly consumed by birds, foxes, badgers, mice and other small mammals. The flowers provide nectar for bees and other pollinating insects, and the leaves are grazed by deer and are an important food source for caterpillars. Thorny bramble thickets also provide shelter, nesting sites and a safe haven from predators for birds, small mammals and even grass snakes.

Have you ever noticed that not all blackberries taste the same? It's not your imagination. There are actually more than 330 subspecies of blackberries in the UK alone - so I suggest doing a 'taste test' of the blackberries in your area and taking careful note of where the best are to be found! 

Herbalists use blackberry (the roots, leaves and berries) to treat a variety of conditions including diarrhoea, burns, dysentery, inflammation and sore throats. I find it interesting that a plant capable of inflicting such nasty scratches is used as a soothing remedy.

Such a well-known plant inevitably has a lot of folklore attached to it. On the Isle of Man it was said to be unlucky to eat the first ripe blackberries as they belonged to the faeries, yet in other parts of the country the first fruits contained healing powers (as I don't live on the Isle of Man I decided it would be fine for me to eat the first blackberries I found - and they were delicious!). The plant was also used to magically heal those suffering from a variety of ailments (including ruptures, pimples and boils) by passing the afflicted person under the archway formed by a bramble branch. In Christian lore it's said the berries are black because brambles were used to make Christ's crown of thorns. It was also said that Lucifer landed painfully in a blackberry  bush when he was thrown out of Heaven and in anger he spits (or in some tellings, urinates!) on the berries each Michaelmas Day (29th September) after which the berries are unpalatable and should not be picked. It seems more likely to me that it's actually the colder weather and frosts at the end of September that are to blame for overly soft, tasteless blackberries! Despite all these negative associations, blackberry bushes were thought to protect against evil spirits and were often planted near homes for this reason (I'm sure the berries were an added bonus!).

There are some wonderful folk names for the plant including bramble, bumblekites, black leg, bounty thorn, skaldberry, blackbutters, blackbides, scaldhead and gatterberry. 

Embracing Autumn: Go Blackberrying!

Take the family, take a basket, and go blackberrying. The bushes are easily found in hedgerows and on wasteground. Do watch out for the sharp thorns which will catch and scratch you, and the berries will stain your fingers - but the reward of a basket full of juicy fruit will be well worth it. Eat them fresh, or bake them into cakes, pies, crumbles, muffins. Blackberry ice cream, blackberry sorbet, blackberry fool. Make blackberry jam or jelly, blackberry syrup, blackberry wine, or steep them in gin or vodka with a little added sugar to produce blackberry liqueur

Embracing Autumn: The Rowan

It's August, and Rowan berries are ripening to brilliant scarlet, gloriously bright against the blue-grey skies.

The Rowan is one of my favourite trees. I love the slender grace of her smooth grey trunk, her dainty sprays of leaves, the froth of her creamy blossom in spring and the sass of her bold, bright berries heralding the onset of Autumn. I love the way her beauty belies her tenacity and strength - Rowan is able to grow at high altitudes (hence one of her other names, 'Mountain Ash') and in poor soils and inaccessible places which are often inhospitable to other species.

The Rowan has long been considered a magical, protective tree and had the reputation of protecting travellers from getting lost and warding off evil. People planted Rowans by their houses, hung Rowan branches over their doors and tied crossed Rowan twigs together with red thread as charms. It's also considered a 'threshold tree' and as such was not only planted at boundaries, but also believed to watch over gateways between this world and the otherworld. Perhaps for this reason it was traditionally planted in Welsh graveyards.

Other names for Rowan include Quickbeam, Berry Ash, Traveller's Tree, Wicken Tree, Wiggy and Thor's Helper (because of a tale in the Prose Edda in which Thor saves himself from drowning in a raging river by grabbing hold of a Rowan). 

Rowans can grow up to 15m in height and live for up to 200 years. The leaves, bark,  flowers and fruit of the tree are useful for wildlife, providing food for moths, butterflies, bees, foxes, badgers, squirrels, dormice and birds. Humans can eat the berries too, they are best made into jellies, jams, wines, cordials or liqueurs. Heating or freezing them during processing helps break down the compounds within them which could otherwise potentially cause indigestion or kidney problems.

Embracing Autumn: Make a Rowan Charm for Yourself or Your Home

Try to find a Rowan tree in your area* and gather fallen twigs and/or berries to make a protective charm for your home, car or to carry with you. The simplest method is to use two crossed twigs and some yarn (red is the traditional colour to use, but you can choose colours that are meaningful to you) to make a 'God's Eye'/'Ojo de Dios'. You could thread rowan berries onto the yarn for added protection, or add a 'tail' of threaded berries to hang down from your charm. Instructions on how to make a God's Eye can be found here (or look on Youtube for a tutorial). 

Alternatively you could simply thread Rowan berries together onto a length of cotton (using a needle and thread) or a piece of wire. Hang them over your front door to invoke the protection of the 'threshold tree' for your home.

* Rowans are often planted in parks, so even if you live in a city you should be able to find one. If all else fails, rowan berries can easily be purchased from herbal suppliers online. To ensure you are buying the right kind, check the Latin name which should be Sorbus aucuparia.       

 

 

   

Winter Blessings and Beauties, Day 83: Moss and Lichen

Although the trees are bare in Winter, they have their own beauty at this time of year. The absence of leaves makes it easy to see the graceful arch of branches silhouetted  against the sky, and it also reveals the amazing textures and colours of the lichens and mosses growing on them. 

Winter Blessings and Beauties: Day 83

Moss and Lichen

Mosses and Lichens are among the oldest living organisms on Earth. Different species can grow in some of the most extreme environments on the planet. Some have been or still are used in horticulture and floristry, or as foodstuffs, insulation, medicine, dyes and perfumes. 

Take note of the mosses and lichens in your area. Notice the colours, shapes, textures. Where are they most prolific? If they are absent, what is the likely reason? Is the environment too dry, too exposed to sunlight or too shaded? A complete lack of lichens could be due to air pollution, although there may be other environmental factors at work, or merely a lack of suitable surfaces for them to inhabit. 

Mosses and lichens are the kind of everyday miracles that surround us, often quite unseen in our everyday lives. Take a little time to notice and appreciate their beauty and variety. 

 

Winter Blessings and Beauties, Day 75: Snowdrops

Today I spotted the first snowdrop flowers that I've seen this year. It was only a small patch and the bells hadn't yet opened properly, but soon there will be swathes of their white flowers everywhere. Each year the snowdrops are one of the first sights signalling the change from Winter to Spring. The white drifts at the base of the hedgerows that once were snow transform imperceivably into flowers - it's a kind of magic. And when the pioneering snowdrops have bravely blazed a trail, other flowers - pussy willows and primroses, daffodils and celandines - will follow.

As Snowdrops herald the very beginning of spring, they have become a symbol of hope for better times ahead. As they usually bloom towards the end of January/beginning of February they're associated with Imbolc - and also its Christian counterpart Candlemas, which earned them the alternative name of Candlemas Bells. Other lovely old names for them include Dewdrops, Eve's Tear, February Fair-maids, Snowpiercer, White Bells and Mary's Tapers.

In the Language of Flowers Snowdrops symbolise chastity, consolation, hope and purity. A German legend tells that God asked the flowers of Earth to give colours to the snow. The flowers all refused, but the Snowdrop gladly offered the snow its colour. In return, the snowdrop got to bloom before the other flowers.    

Snowdrops aren't native to the British Isles. They were introduced from the Caucasus mountains by Italian monks in the 15^th or 16^th Century, later escaping into the wild where they have become naturalised. Growing to about 7-15cm tall, the bell-shaped flowers hang down to protect the pollen from harsh winter rains. As they flower so early, snowdrops don't rely on pollinators to reproduce, spreading instead via bulb division. However, they're visited by bees and other insects on particularly warm days, so in favourable conditions they can produce seed.

Winter Blessings and Beauties: Day 75

Snowdrops

Have you spotted any snowdrops flowering yet? Or are there other signs of spring where you live? Here daffodil leaves are pushing up from the soil and tiny catkins can be seen on the twigs of the hazel. 

Winter Blessings and Beauties, Day 50: Mistletoe

 

Along with Holly and Ivy, Mistletoe is one of the classic Yuletide plants with which people traditionally decorate their homes - yet it is also set apart from the others in many ways. The first difference of course is that mistletoe is a parasitic plant which draws water and nutrition from its host. It grows on a variety of different tree species but is found most frequently on apple trees, hawthorns, poplars, willows and lime. It can weaken the host tree but rarely kills it, which would after all be fatal to itself. 

The seeds are usually spread by birds either in their droppings or when they wipe their beaks on tree branches after eating the sticky berries. The seeds get stuck in crevices in the bark where they germinate, and a kind of root called a haustorium penetrates the branch, allowing the mistletoe to tap into the tree for its food and water.

Mistletoe does produce some of its own food through photosynthesis which is why its leaves are green. This is probably one reason it was seen as 'magical' and significant during Winter - like holly and ivy, it is evergreen. But it must also have seemed magical to our ancestors due to the fact that it doesn't grow in soil but seems to miraculously appear in the branches of trees, a product of neither earth nor sky. 

Understandably, as such an unusual plant, mistletoe appears in a great deal of folklore and mythology.

The 'Golden Bough' that enabled Theseus to visit and safely return from the land of the dead in Greek myth is thought to have been mistletoe. 

The Romans associated mistletoe with peace and hung it over their doorways during Saturnalia. 

In Norse myth, Balder the Beautiful God was magically protected by his mother Frigg, who extracted promises from everything living on or growing in the earth that they would not harm him, thus rendering him invincible. He seemed so indestructible that the other Gods played a game using Balder for target practice. Unfortunately Frigg had overlooked mistletoe when she wove protection around her son, either because she considered it too weak to pose a threat, or because uniquely among plants, mistletoe doesn't grow on or in the earth. The trickster God Loki (being jealous of Balder's beauty) mislead Balder's blind brother, Höd into throwing a piece of mistletoe at Balder, killing him. 

Mistletoe was seen as a fertility charm too - partly because the sticky white juice of the berries was thought to resemble semen. This, added to its ability to remain green throughout Winter suggested the plant contained a vital life-force, and this may be the origin of the custom of kissing under the mistletoe for good luck. 

All these Pagan connections were too much for the medieval Church and it banned mistletoe as a decoration in churches.

Winter Blessings and Beauties, Day 50

Mysterious, Magical Mistletoe

is there any mistletoe growing in your area? It's usually most easily spotted in Winter when there is no foliage on its deciduous host tree and its bushy growths can be seen silhouetted against the sky. In certain areas of the UK - such as Herefordshire - it is very common, but in others it is something of a rarity. 

Take a walk to see if you can spot any mistletoe growing. If not you may be able to buy some - it is often sold at this time of year as a Christmas decoration.

If you can find some, you may like to hang a sprig or two over your door like the Romans used to, as a protective charm for your household. When I do this I tie it with a piece of red ribbon and leave it up for the rest of the year, until I can replace it with a fresh sprig next Winter.    

Winter Blessings and Beauties, Day 28: Holly Magic

Now that deciduous trees have shed virtually all their leaves, the evergreens come into their own. Especially eye-catching is the Holly, with its distinctive evergreen glossy, spiky leaves and bright red berries. A mature Holly tree can grow up to 15m and live for 300 years. 

Holly is dioecious (meaning male and female flowers occur on different trees), and only the female trees bear berries. Holly is valuable for wildlife. It provides protective cover and nesting opportunities for birds, while its deep, dry leaf litter is used by hedgehogs and small mammals for hibernation. The white flowers provide nectar and pollen for bees and other pollinating insects and they and the leaves are food plants for butterfly and moth caterpillars. In winter, Holly berries are a vital source of food for birds and small mammals, such as wood mice and dormice. Deer are known to graze the leaves. The mistle thrush is known for vigorously guarding the berries of Holly in winter to prevent other birds from eating them!

Holly wood is hard and white, with a fine-grain. It can be stained and polished and is used to make furniture, tool handles, walking sticks and chess pieces or in engraving work and marquetry. It also makes good firewood, burning with a strong heat.

The leaves and berries are toxic to humans, causing vomiting and diarrhoea. As few as 20 berries can be fatal to a child. 

In the Bach Flower Remedies, Holly is used to treat feelings of anger and jealousy. 

In folklore, Holly was often paired with Ivy, whose black berries symbolized night and darkness. In some regions, Holly was seen as the Winter King and Ivy the Winter  Queen. The carol 'The Holly and the Ivy' has its origins in this ancient belief. In other lore, the Holly King (symbolising Winter) battled with the Oak King (symbolising Summer) at the equinoxes. Holly was used as protection against malign spirits and lightning (it is now known that the spines on Holly leaves can act as miniature lightning conductors, thereby protecting the tree and other nearby objects), and it was considered unlucky to cut down a Holly tree. In heraldry, it symbolises truth.

Folk names include Holm, Hulver, Hollins, Aquifolius, Bat's Wings, Christ's Thorn, Holy Tree, Christmas Tree, and Tinne. In Welsh it is known as Celyn.

Winter Blessings and Beauties: Day 28

Holly Magic

Go out for a walk and try to find some Holly. Cut a few sprays of leaves (and berries if you can) - ask the Holly's permission first. Tie them into a bunch with red ribbon (to match the berries) or gold ribbon (to symbolise the Holly's 'Kingship') and tie them over your door as a protective winter charm.  

Winter Blessings and Beauties, Day 21: Ivy Appreciation

Pic: Ivy (Hedera helix ssp. helix) showing both mature (left) and juvenile (right) forms of the leaves.  

As an evergreen, ivy is far more visible during winter which is probably one of the reasons it appears in much of the folklore for this time of year. It's long been used as a Christmas decoration along with holly, although using it this way was forbidden by an early Council of the Church because of its Pagan associations. Ivy and holly have long been paired, with ivy considered to be 'female' with holly her 'male' counterpart.

Ivy can grow up to 30m high. Contrary to popular belief, it isn't parasitic (it has its own root system in the soil which means it can absorb its own nutrients and water) and doesn't damage trees.

There are two native subspecies of ivy in Britain. Hedera helix ssp. helix (which climbs) and Hedera helix ssp. hibernica (which spreads across the ground - but shouldn't be confused with Ground Ivy [Glechoma hederacea] which isn't actually an ivy at all!) Hedera helix ssp. helix has two different forms - juvenile and mature. The juvenile plant has lobed leaves and the creeping or climbing stems have specialised hairs so the plant can stick to surfaces as it climbs. The mature forms have heart-shaped leaves on thicker, hairless, self-supporting stems. They are usually found high up in trees or at the tops of walls or cliff faces. To add further confusion, there are also many cultivated varieties of ivy, often with variegated leaves.

Ivy provides nectar, pollen and berries and is an essential food source for bees, butterflies, moths and birds during autumn and winter when other food sources are scarce. It also provides shelter for insects, birds, bats and other small mammals.

Although it has been used medicinally in the past, ivy is toxic and can cause skin irritation. It's not really suitable for amateur herbalists and is probably best left to the professionals!

In mythology ivy was sacred to Dionysus and Bacchus, both Gods of wine and intoxication who were depicted wearing wreaths of iv and grapevines. Paradoxically, it was believed that wearing a wreath of ivy leaves prevented one from getting drunk. The Romans used to hang a branch of ivy over the doorway of a place that sold alcohol, and the popularity of 'The Ivy Bush' as a pub name is believed to date back to this practice. Ivy wreaths were also awarded to athletes and poets as an honour.

Symbolically, ivy stands for friendship and fidelity. It was customary for priests to present a wreath of ivy to newly weds, and bridal bouquets often contained a sprig of ivy to bring luck to the marriage. 

Folk names for the plant include Bindwood and Lovestone.

Winter Blessings and Beauties: Day 21

Ivy Appreciation!

Pick yourself some sprays of ivy to decorate your home. Display them in a vase, trail them along a shelf or mantlepiece, or twine the stems into a wreath.   

Midsummer Herbs: Meadowsweet and St John's Wort

At the height of summer, two wonderful healing herbs are blooming spectacularly in the hedgerows and meadows around Halfway Up A Hill. I plan to pick and dry plenty of both to take us through the coming months. 

The first is Meadowsweet, whose froth of sweetly fragranced flowers never fail to delight me when they begin to appear. Meadowsweet has such a soft, gracious gentleness, yet it is balanced by an enduring inner strength, a calm serenity. If Meadowsweet was in human form, she would be exactly the person you would want around in a crisis. She'd mop up the mess, fix, calm, soothe, hold your hand, make you a cup of tea and pop a casserole in the oven before quietly slipping out the back door without any fuss. 

Meadowsweet contains salicylic acid, one of the active ingredients in aspirin, and in fact the word 'aspirin' is derived from the old Latin name for Meadowsweet, Spirea ulmaria (the Latin name for the plant has subsequently been changed to Ulmaria filipendula). Unlike aspirin, which is notoriously harsh on the stomach, Meadowsweet has a gentler action and so can be taken for headaches accompanied by upset stomach - the perfect hangover cure! Just yesterday, IB was suffering from a bad headache and I made him some Meadowsweet tea from fresh leaves and flowers which really helped. The flowers have a sweet, slightly almond-y fragrance with the merest hint of a medicinal undertone, and the chopped leaves smell fresh, a bit like a new-mown grass or hay, so it's a pleasant tea to drink. Of course, if you are allergic to aspirin or it's contraindicated for you it's best to err on the side of caution and avoid Meadowsweet too. 

The flowers can also be used in the kitchen in many of the ways you'd use Elderflowers - to make cordial, champagne, flower fritters, to flavour beer and mead, or as an addition to fruit desserts and jams. Strangely they seem to come into flower just as the Elderflowers are fading, very helpfully extending the season.

In bygone days the dried herb was used as a strewing herb, scattered on the floors of houses along with other pleasant smelling herbs and rushes to make the home smell sweet and deter pests. It is said to have been one of the favourite strewing herbs of Queen Elizabeth I. I wonder if it might be nice to update this idea by using it in pot pourri? 

Meadowsweet was one of the three most sacred herbs of the druids, along with Water Mint and Vervain. Perhaps that's why Math and Gwydion chose Meadowsweet as one of the herbs used to create Blodeuwedd (whose name means 'flower face') as a wife for Lleu, in the Mabinogion.
  

The other herb is sunny St John's Wort, probably the most solar plant I can think of (with the possible exception of Calendula and Sunflowers). The flowers even look like little yellow sunbursts, and its name is due to the fact that it generally begins to flower around St John's Day (24th June), a few days after the Summer Solstice. The small oval-shaped leaves are packed with little oil glands which secrete powerful healing compounds. If you're not sure if you've got the right plant, hold a leaf up to the light - you should be able to see what appear to be little translucent perforations on the leaf. These are the oil-secreting glands, and they give the plant its Latin name, Hypericum perforatum. And speaking of names, there are a number of plants in the Hypericum family which get called St John's Wort, potentially making things confusing - this is why knowing Latin names of plants can be so important! For the purposes of this blog post, I'm talking about Common or Perforate St John's Wort. 

St John's Wort has become well-known in recent years as a herbal treatment for mild to moderate depression (studies show it's less effective for severe depression), and I find it interesting that this radiant little plant can literally chase away the dark clouds of depression and let the light back in for some people. I wonder if it's particularly useful for those suffering SAD (Seasonal Affective Disorder), which strikes in the dark days of winter?

Another strange sun-related connection: one of the possible side-effects of taking St John's Wort is photosensitivity, which means it can cause the skin and eyes to become more sensitive to sunlight thereby making some people susceptible to sunburn and eye damage. It can also have other side-effects such as gastrointestinal problems, dizziness and headache, and can disrupt the effects of some prescription drugs such as the contraceptive pill, anti-psychotics, and some cancer and heart medications. So check with  your GP or a qualified herbalist to make sure St John's Wort is suitable for you before taking it.

Although St John's Wort can make you more susceptible to sunburn, paradoxically an oil made from the plant is a great topical salve used for burns and wounds, to heal scars and to treat nerve pain such as sciatica. I made some last year by filling a sterilised glass jar with a tightly fitting lid, with the flowers and leaves and pouring over grapeseed oil. I left the jar on a sunny windowsill for a few weeks, and the oil gradually became a gorgeous deep red colour as the active ingredients infused into the carrier oil. If you would like to try this yourself, it's important to ensure the plant matter is fully covered by oil, as any that's left protruding above the surface will become mouldy and spoil the oil. When the oil has finished infusing, strain out the herb and store the tightly closed jar in a cool, dark place. As far as I know topical application of the oil doesn't increase photosensitivity, but to be on the safe side I don't use it on skin that will be exposed to sunlight.

In folklore, St John's Wort was seen as protective and hung above doorways and windows to protect the inhabitants of a house from evil spirits, or worn on the person as a charm. 

It's raining right now, so I'll wait until the sun comes out again before going out to collect my herbs. As the weather is due to take a turn for the better in the next couple of days I will have plenty of chance to gather and dry my midsummer herbs. In the dark depths of winter I'm sure I'll be glad that I did!

***

N.B. I am NOT a medically trained herbalist, so this post is not intended as medical advice. Please consult a properly trained herbalist if you need advice. 

Please also don't take any chances if you're not confident of your plant identification skills. Check with someone who really knows their stuff. And the golden rule is: if you can't be 100% certain you've got the right plant, walk away!