Bent over the moist earth, we gathered up the crimson and golden fruit into our hungry bags, chatting about life as old friends will, with meandering topics and understood nuances. Picking through the fallen leaves and occasional thorn, our bags grew plump with the fallen medicinal jewels.
Women today live in a very different world than our foremothers. Our female predecessors began menstruating later in life, had more children, breastfed longer, underwent menopause earlier, ate whole foods, and lived in a cleaner environment. Women today have approximately ten times as many menstrual cycles as their great-great-grandmothers. Our bodies did not evolve with the hormonal inputs of perpetual ovulation and menstruation. As a result, more women than ever are experiencing reproductive disorders, such as endometriosis, uterine fibroids and ovarian cysts.
If you’ve ever made a cup of tea with a teabag then you’ve made an herbal infusion. Teabags are certainly convenient, but if you want to prepare your own herbal blends or concentrated medicinal teas, then learning how to use dried herbs, in the form of infusions and decoctions, is indispensable.
Lady’s slipper orchids have a commanding presence—their inflated blooms are captivating to the point of heady swooning and inspiring colorful prose. The etymological root of the word orchid comes from the Greek orchis, meaning testicle. Certain species of orchid bear roots, which resemble paired testes. In pink lady’s slipper, it is the flower, and not the root, that is reminiscent of male naughty bits. Orchids typically have three petals, with one of the flower’s petals forming a pouch-like structure, aptly named the labellum. The Latin root of labellum, is little lip, or labia. In pink lady’s slipper the labellum is inflated and heavily veined. The other two petals are pink and narrow, twisting, and extending out to the side of the flower, like a dancer’s arms in mid-twirl.
Spring has arrived in sputters this year: sunshine flirting with frost, the first sprays of color a bright balm to the winter gray. Spring is the one season I can never keep up with. No matter how closely my eyes are pressed to the forest floor with eager anticipation of the first bloodroot, trillium or spring beauty, I can never soak it all up.
The reasons for growing plants in containers are many: it often provides the sole means for growing herbs or vegetables when tending a garden is simply not possible, or when the available ground is contaminated. Containers can also help to create a mini-microclimate, such as: well-drained soil, moist soil or even a water garden.
No matter how many years I plant seeds and watch them grow into mature plants, I am still awed. I feel an utter child-like excitement when I see the first sign of a sprouting seed poking out of the soil. Germinating seeds are a universal symbol of hope and renewal, ushering in the joy and promise of spring.
I am a discerning flower-picker, with an understanding of what is native or invasive, abundant or rare. For example, I would perhaps cut tiger lilies I cultivated but not the wild species.