Brixton Herbalist

30/08/2021

29/08/2021

I’m making up a virus vinegar for the Autumn. We are starting to learn how to live alongside the COVID virus. We humans have negotiated with pathogens many times over our history, each time using the best available resources in order to survive. Jon Snow (not the one who joined the Black Watch) removed the handle from the water pump in Soho and thereby stopped a cholera epidemic. Another story of human ingenuity and invention in the face of the invisible foe is that of the Four Thieves and their protective vinegar. There are several versions of the story, but essentially, there were four thieves who were working their trade in Marseilles during an outbreak of the plague. Whether they were robbing the dead and were caught, or were set to work digging graves for the dead after being caught robbing the homes of plague victims, either way they were exposed to the plague but did not themselves fall prey. They attributed this to a recipe of herbs steeped in vinegar, which became known by any number of different names. I know it as Four Thieves Vinegar and it forms the basis of this recipe, which I have beefed up to reflect our current needs. This winter, we need to brace ourselves against not only COVID but also whatever else has been hunkering down over the last two years. I anticipate a bad winter for all sorts of ailments.

This recipe is apple cider vinegar, beetroot, turmeric, garlic, ginger, mustard, horseradish, andrographis, star anise, cinnamon, chilli, all steeped together for two weeks, strained and bottled. One eggcupful once daily, more often if required.

02/06/2020

Sea kale (Crambe maritima). It likes the upper reaches of a shingle beach, and can resist the wind, the salt and the long hot days of summer. After dying back to a dry withered scramble of grey stems over winter the new leaves emerge with an exuberant purple in the spring. By May the complex fractal frame is covered with grey-green leaves, thick as vellum, smooth as leather, crinkled and primped at the edges, some of the leaves as large as half a meter in very old plants, and covered in clumps of delicate very fragrant white flowers. This fella hugs the lip of the sea wall at a place I know near Dungeness. Like all Brassicas, it bioaccumulates trash and nonsense from the substrate, which means that the colonies that live closer to the power station may well be radioactive: Long lived, and with a tap root than can reach down half a metre, it has the capacity and the reach to find and grab deep deep stuff. I take the flowers and the growing tips for food from this shoreline, mindful of the nearby power station, but elsewhere the larger leaves and the stems can be cooked and eaten. I have an idea that this plant was widely eaten by our foremothers, and gladly, especially when they were gathering cockles and mussels on the foreshore. There is something very pleasing about the contrast between the very light delicate flower and the robust resistant leaves, which crunch easily and with juicy release between the teeth. The Brassicas like to cuddle up to our supportive digestive organs: the liver, the gall bladder, the pancreas. Those who have GIT issues or weak supportive GIT organs can find this family over-stimulating, with resulting discomfort. Paradoxically, they can also bring healing to the system, so long as tonic and supportive measures are given alongside. Sea kale is a food-medicine, easy to eat and nourishing, not a plant that demands work to be done. His liminal properties speak to his capacity to help tip an issue over the threshold from problem, to not-a-problem. His ability to grab deep stuff and drag it up tells us about his ability to bring symptoms gently to the surface so that they can be dealt with. His generosity as food tells us of his kind, tonic qualities. His ability to weather the storm and reappear after the harsh winter tells us of resilience, fortitude, determination and commitment. We often overlook these humble plants, these ordinary companions who crowd around our back door. So often the things that make it possible for them to live alongside us are the things that make them extraordinary.

24/04/2020

Thank you to everyone who attended yesterday's Webinar. It was lovely to see so many faces! As mentioned, I will be setting up regular Campfire Q&A sessions very soon. I'll post more information here over the weekend. I'm thinking of doing it one a Friday evening, starting at 8:00. Please leave a comment below if you'd like to be tagged into the event invitation or if you have any suggestions about when I should schedule the event, requests for topic to cover and so forth. Have a great day!

21/04/2020

Hello all. We did a Zoom run through yesterday to check that everything is working well. I must say that I'm really quite excited about this webinar session. Like everyone else, I've been thinking long and hard about ways that we can bring our knowledge and understanding to bear. As a herbalist and teacher, my perspective is focused through the herbs and how best to mediate between the plants, my own understanding, and the people I connect with (students and patients in this case). Please join me, and invite others who may also be interested. The wider this conversation is, the better equipped we can all be. Looking forward to seeing some new faces on Thursday.
A webinar on Zoom led by Cristina Cromer to explore the use of herbs during a serious infective disease.

A webinar on Zoom led by Cristina Cromer to explore the use of herbs during a serious infective disease.

21/04/2020

https://www.eventbrite.co.uk/e/herbal-allies-in-developing-protocols-for-serious-infective-disease-tickets-102802956410?utm-medium=discovery&utm-campaign=social&utm-content=attendeeshare&aff=escb&utm-source=cp&utm-term=listing

A webinar on Zoom led by Cristina Cromer to explore the use of herbs during a serious infective disease.

05/06/2019

I'm very fortunate to have a patch of wild violets nearby me in Brixton. I suspect this is a very old colony that has survived in this scrappy little corner of Rush Common. In the Spring, this bright carpet of deep purple is a shot to the heart of delight. On a glum day it looks a bit gloomy, as purple sometimes does; but on a bright day the vivid glow of these small plants in a dense cluster under the still-bare trees makes my heart sing. There are also a few white violets in this group, as you can see.

Viola odorata and all its close relatives is a soothing balm for the heart. And despite the apparent fragility of the flower, it is a robust medicine that has shown good results for those who are diagnosed with cancer. In the same way that the glorious scent can lift the spirits and change the mood entirely so the medicine can cause a hitch in the disease process, causing a pause in the forward-rolling trajectory of illness. This gives opportunity for other things to find a way in, whether that's new ideas and new patterns replacing the old, or a chance for treatments to find a c***k to get through.

This quality of violet to make us gasp with delight and stop what we're doing to take stock and pay attention is part of its medicine.

There is something secretive and private about violet. Unlike the daisy family, which is chatty and companionable, violet tends to await discovery and invitation. This makes it quite seductive, like the mysterious and fascinating beauty who arrives late and disappears early.

This year, I harvested violet as a dried herb and also to make a tincture.

07/09/2018

It’s harvest season! Which means it’s also medicine-making season. I found a big old polypore (Meripilus giganteus), which is good eating when it’s young. The medicinal properties haven’t been investigated very much, but working on the notion that (almost) all fungi have useful medicinal properties*, and having seen a study about this chap killing cancer in mice (thanks and praise to the Mouse Nation, as always) I decided to make a broad spectrum extract. Here are my first steps.

* So far as I know, there are no known toxic bracket fungi in the U.K. (the ones that grow out of trees like a shelf). But perhaps we’ve not yet found the one that is. Check all ID carefully! Having said that, I have a notion that just as the poisonous plants can be very useful medicine when treated with respect, properly processed, and prescribed wisely and appropriately, so too could the poisonous mushrooms. I’ve never tried this, but I find the idea very interesting.

PS I started the oven at 30 degrees, but I’ve now put it up to 40.

02/09/2018

I’m making a deep decoction, and I’ve tried something slightly different. I kept the rose petals out of the main mix and cooked them for only one hour x 2 rather than the more usual 4 hours x 2. I love the result, so I’ll definitely be doing this again. The scent and flavour of the rose petals is retained. It feels deep and substantial, as a deep decoction should. This will be added to the main part of the decoction towards the end. See the (slightly truncated) video for more detail.

By the way, I’ve finally worked out what the Latin name for a deep decoction is. It’s Decocta profunda. Good, eh? And accurate, I believe.

03/09/2017

Just a quick head's up: I'll be at The Royal Oak for the equinox, joining in with the Bishopstone folk to celebrate the bounty of the hedgerows.

https://helenbrowningsorganic.co.uk/events/forage-and-feast/

Join our Organic September celebration of all things seasonal and organic. Take an evening stroll round Eastbrook farm and Bishopstone village with the Royal Oak’s Tim Finney and herbalist Cristina …

15/07/2017

We evolved in the loving and generous presence of the Plants. They are intelligent and sentient. The difficulties we speedy humans may have in recognising this is a failing on our part, not proof that they are lacking these properties.

We arrogantly assume that our form of knowing, seeing, experiencing, is the highest possible achievement. Instead, consider that it is merely different.

17/06/2017

This little darling is Prunella vulgaris. She also goes by the names all-heal, heal all, self-heal, wound-wort, and Heart-of-the-Earth.

This one has grown beside the garden path, but she's happiest in short pasture. One of my favourite prunella patches is on a high windy hill in the Westcountry, where the sward is kept short and sweet by the sheep who turn their backs to the wind as they graze their way across the pasture.

She's an opportunist, hitching a ride and travelling about any which way. This is a descendent of a plant that came home with me as a stowaway in a pot of some other less vigorous plant I bought in a Somerset garden centre. That one plant seeded around the whole garden, and when I left that house and came here, so did Prunella. She's now flinging herself all over the new garden, much to my delight.

The flowers are usually a dark rich purple, but this family seems to be becoming lighter in colour with each generation.

This herb is especially good at closing holes in the skin. There are other herbs that are better at stitching and darning open wounds and knitting the tissue together, but Prunella has a special ability to close open holes like puncture wounds, ulcers, herpes sores, cold sores, wounds made by splinters and thorns or fish-hooks... If the wound goes up-and-downwards through the skin, Prunella is the herb to use.

It has astringent, antiinflammatory and antiviral properties so it will pucker and tighten the wound, allowing the edges to close.

A simple puncture wound is less susceptible to microbial invasion that more complicated wounds, and prunella is not an especially antimicrobial herb, so if the wound needs to be protected from microbial infection, add something else to work alongside it. But for simple puncture wounds, prunella is sufficient.

And now think of the piercing pain of a broken heart, the sharp fearsome anguish of sudden bereavement, the way shock feels as if everything is running out of you from a single hole suddenly opened up in your deep self. Prunella is the herb to give for this kind of inner pain. It helps us to stop up that hole, so that mending and healing can begin. It's not an anxiolytic, it's not a soothing nervine. She very simply and plainly helps us to stop ourself running out of the hole that was punched into us by sudden trauma.

Earlier in the week I posted about Tilia, and how it can help soothe and settle the shattered nerves. I'm thinking of herbs that can help in the wake of tragedy, like the Grenfell Tower disaster. I was born and raised in West London. The Westway was part of my old stomping ground. I still have family and friends who live out that way. Prunella would be a good herb to be giving by the bucket load for people trying to come to terms with what's happened, those who are working to close the terrible puncture wound that has left the entire community wounded. Deeper healing of the more long term problems cannot happen if this puncture is not closed.

I call on the Spirit of Prunella to bring balm and calm to those directly affected by this terrible fire, and to the wider community of London. So may it be.

15/06/2017

It's Tilia season! This beautiful graceful forgiving tree grows all over Europe and is tolerant of city street pollution.

We use the blossom, and the bract attached to the flower stalk, as a gentle but powerful medicine. I like to eat the heart-shaped leaves in the springtime, when they are soft and squishy and tasty, before they become tough enough to survive the summer.

It's safe and appropriate for children and infants, and powerful enough to alleviate really severe anxiety. It is soft and sweet, and thus nourishing and protective to the surfaces. It has an affinity for the nervous system, and so brings this protective property to our emotions. It's especially good for the kind of anxiety that might leave you feeling shredded and furious.

It's a useful fever herb too, helping the feverish child to sweat out the heat whilst also soothing the fretfulness that accompanies a fever.

When chamomile is the wrong herb for an unsettled stomach, Tilia is the right herb. It is sweet and mucilagenous where chamomile is bitter and astringent. It soothes the vagus nerve, while chamomile works directly on the enteric nervous system. They're not especial friends, and would argue in the same mix. But both work to soothe and settle the digestion. It's a good example of how richly blessed we are with the diversity and specificity of our plant-based medicines.

The botanical name is Tilia, but you might know this herb by the name Linden blossom, or Limeflower. The name originates from older words meaning "flexible, lithe, lenient, yielding", and energetically it can bring these qualities to bear in a medicine. It helps us to assimilate difficult new knowledge, to come to terms with challenging changes.

Today I am very preoccupied by the terrible knowledge of the Grenfell Tower fire. I went to Brockwell Park yesterday to harvest linden blossom, and the sweet bright fragrance of the blossoms, together with the busy buzzing of the bees gathering nectar helped me to take a deep breathe and look away from the horror of it all for a little while.

The blossom season for each tree doesn't last very long, but different trees will be in full flower at different times, which extends the season considerably. Gather a hatful of the blossom, together with the pale green papery bract attached to the stalk. Dry by spreading them out on a flat surface and turning occasionally. A large tray is perfect for this. Or do what I did and whizz it all up with some watered down vodka and allow to sit in the dark for about 10 days or so, then strain and bottle.

Or, just use it fresh.

If you know anyone struggling with these troubling times, make a big pot of limeflower tea and share the time it takes to have a cuppa with them.

15/05/2017

At the recent Full Moon, I was moved to make a tincture with the poppies that grow outside Brixton Town Hall. Here's a selfie-video of me doing that.

15/05/2017

I'm making this deep decoction for someone who feels anxiety, failing courage, quailing heart, and a deep sense of disconnection from his fellow man. It contains rose, hawthorn, borage, avena, limeflower, lavender and a few other things. He had mugwort in earlier mixes to help him feel consolidated and centralised, have faith in his own path, but I think he needs something softer for now. He told me his deepest secret the last time we met, and all the pieces of his story fell into place.

The herb I've given him for increased sense of connection is Daisy. I've given him ox-eye Daisy, and lawn Daisy too. And as I was taking these from my garden, cousin daisies also came forward to help: dandelion seed heads and also calendula flowers.

Daisy flowers are made up of many separate single small flowers that come together in confederacy to make themselves look like one larger flower that will attract passing attention.

Daisies like to grow in groups, they like to be looked at and noticed, they are cheerful, friendly, outgoing and chatty.

The daisy family is vastly medicinal, from yarrow to echinacea, dandelion to milk thistle.

When thinking about the Plants as medicine, consider how they grow and how they live, how the interact with each other and their environment. This will help you to form a closer deeper understanding of their medicine, and help you to build your relationship with them.

13/05/2017

I often mention Christopher Hedley and the Teachings I've received from him. Anyone who's sat in circle with me will be familiar with his work. Non is his partner and writing partner, and she needs some help getting about these days. As lovely as their flat is, being stuck indoors is bad for anyone. Let's collectively help Non and Christopher to continue being able to wander about together in their local community and parks.

Non Shaw is raising money on JustGiving Crowdfunding