The Medicine Woman's Roots

Here in the Gila, on the border between mountains and deserts, rivers and grasslands, countries and peoples, we are still very much immersed in the old ways. Hispanic wisdom, hardbitten mountain man sense and Native knowledge retain their hold. Bear fat is a cure-all here, nearly everyone knows how to use at least one plant for medicine and wild meat is valued above all other food. Outsiders sometimes see the landscape here as harsh or extreme while locals can’t understand why anyone would ever live anywhere else but all who pass through the enchanted lands of the Southwest recognize its magic, sensuality and power. The plants here tend to be exceptionally medicinally active, full of the wild energy of an untamed land. The terrain itself is eerily sentient, and often surreal in composition and color. Every morning I wake up amazed that this is where I belong and I revel in the joy of knowing the place I am called to.

There’s nothing quite as satisfying as healing that comes from home. The process of gathering plants by hand, preserving them with fermentation, fat or honey and then applying them in need, celebration or health is one that takes us deeper and deeper into relationship and intimacy with the matrix we belong to. In order to further this relationship, I continually simplify, looking for the vital core of what healing and herbalism is.

For me, this has meant becoming more and more locally based, and at this point there is only one plant in my primary materia medica that doesn’t grow here, although even this one has found its way into my garden this spring. The materials that form the base of my medicine also primarily come from nearby — local desert honey, wild animal fats (and hopefully local farm lard soon too), fermented herbal brews, homemade vinegar, wild teas and other traditional ways of preserving and delivering medicine. Lately I’ve almost completely stopped using oils for medicine simply because I can’t make them or have them made locally. Also, fat based salves appear largely superior in performance to me. They seem to work more quickly, create fewer complications and are simpler to make. I am still using the hardcore magic of Everclear since distilling one’s own alcohol is a no-no under federal law, but more and more I’m utilizing and exploring fermented herbal wines and ales as tonics and remedies, and save tinctures for a necessary convenience or when acute care is needed.

The goal is to become medicinally self-sufficient, for the herbs and preparations to all come straight from this bioregion and my own hands and the hands of my immediate community. This is a very practical stance, considering the soaring price of delivery of supplies to this tiny mountain village. But even if current times didn’t dictate a change, I would still need the intimacy, immediacy and intensity of living up close and personal with my food and medicine. As I grow more and more rooted in this volcanic rock and red clay, I am less and less able to use plants and foods from far away without it hurting my heart. And the simple joy of engaging the living spirit and vital energy of the mountains and forests has become deeper, and infinitely satisfying.

I know the Gila, this canyon, these forests and rivers like my own skin or the body of my love. My medicine is wild tomotillos and canyon grapes, rich green pesto and bone broths, bubbling berry brews and the aromatic flowers of Beebalm steeped in beaver fat. And it is laying in this cold, clear river and flowing with its insistent, healing pull.

Note: On a related line, check out Shawna’s amazing post on the importance of using animal fats for healing.

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Photograph of Yucca buds and blossoms (c) 2008 Kiva Rose

Ananda at Plant Journeys did a post on a local plant: Dreamwort

Tansy did a post on her top 40 local herbs to focus on for the next year.

Rebecca wrote about her dooryard herbs.

Angie attempted to narrow her abundant local favorites down to a workable list.

I suspect there may be more yet to come. If so, I will update as they come in. And here’s my own emphatic rant for local herbalism!

Using local plants for me is about intimacy, connection and practicality. So some of it is rooted in the spiritual and emotional realm, but there’s a pragmatic side as well. How much more common sense can you get than using free, locally abundant plants for medicine? This as opposed to paying for expensive and often less than quality exotics. If the medicines are capable of having the same effect then why on earth would I pay for stale plants from a foreign country that have been sprayed/irradiated and god knows what else?

I’m especially wary of the exotic panaceas of the wetlands, desert or highest mountains. These are often little known plants from fragile ecosystems easily upset by overharvesting. There’s usually a great deal of corporate money behind those advertising extravaganzas in glossy health magazines. They’ll tell you how much you really NEED some of their precious and rare root from the himalayas, extracted by a patented process and specially put into capsules, and they won’t tell you how Burdock is just as nice, quite abundant and you’ve been yanking it out of the garden anyhow. Do we really believe that Sambucol is better than our hand harvested Elderberry creations? Or that we can get more nutrition out of a bottle of Noni juice than from our own homebrewed Strawberry wine? Making our own medicines and gathering our own foods is an act of profound activism in a culture of people brave enough to suck down prescription drugs but powerless every time our child gets a fever.

Now, nearly all of us have a few exceptions for extra special plants that we can’t find a local equivalent for. Kava is a good example of this, and many of us very bioregionally based herbalists will pay a pretty penny to get some high quality root. I consider this kind of like purchasing a special sauce or a rare favorite veggie from the grocery store. I do it sometimes, and I sure like the taste, but I don’t depend on it as a primary aspect of my practice. Especially with the rising cost of shipping, I can barely afford to buy Kava or Kale! But I can always afford some Skullcap from across the river, or some Lobelia from down the river.

I’ve been occasionally told that my fervent attitude about local herbs is an unreasonable approach for people who don’t live out in the sticks like me. This doesn’t make good sense to me though. I know that in some areas it’s completely illegal to pick most plants and that in other places there’s huge amounts of pollution. But really, who can’t find some Dandelions at the edge of a community garden or Plantain in an unsprayed and weedy backyard? By investing some footwork and research into the process, we can usually find a few nice weedy plots and perhaps a choice wild area to gather from. Having put in all that intent and care will make the medicine that much more potent and meaningful too.

Another viable option is a thriving garden where you can grow many of the most valued but not necessarily local to you herbs. Our European ancestors brought myriad medicinal plants with them from the Old World, and many of these plants such as our common Garden Sage and Lavender are easily grown in a yard corner, window box or pot. Even easier is to grow local weedy plants, wouldn’t it be nice to be able to claim that you’re actually growing all that Ground Ivy on PURPOSE?

We don’t have to pick a certain number of plants within a certain area, but it sure is nice to be aware of what’s growing and available right around us. Not knowing the flowers outside my door feels a little like not knowing the people I live with. Possible for sure, but definitely not a good idea. Even when I travel I try to introduce myself to the local land and plants, while I may not ever know all their names it still feels good and right to sit down, say hello and pay attention.

It all comes down to old fashioned sense for me, and when I have a fever or Rhiannon has a bellyache, it feels so good to find my medicine flowering under the juniper tree — fresh, vibrant and intimate.

If you haven’t already, you might want to read my essay The Healing Roots of Home: A Medicine Woman’s Journey into Bioregional Herbalism. It was written for my female students, but applies to everyone regardless of gender.

Harvesting Motherwort from the Weed Garden this morning, I grinned like a little kid as I snipped each fibrous stalk and added the feathery green beings to my basket. It’s so simple and maybe even a little silly but this is what I’ve wanted to do my whole life. Not just working as a healer, or even just working with plants. But specifically, working with local, dooryard herbs and wild woodland roots in a relationship so secure and so profound that I literally know these beings with my eyes closed. By scent, touch and even sound I recognize these complex and vibrant tribes that people the Canyon.

To a degree, I can do the same thing with bags of dried herbs from Eastern Europe and China, or tinctures made from dried percolated plants from New York City. Yes, I can often identify them as Astragalus or Schizandra, but I don’t know them as people. I know them as acquaintances or one night stands that have most likely enriched my life but not become my intimates in the lasting way of soulmates, best friends or children.

I love sharing home with the plants, cycling through the seasons with them and noting the changes in both me and them, and all the ways we change together. As I unmethodically chopped Cherry twigs the other day I was overwhelmed by the almondy smell common to the bark, but I also noticed the peculiarities of our particular Cherry trees. The rich, nearly spicy scent unique to this tree in this place in this bioregion.

This community of plants is the only one who have ever spoken so loudly and clearly to me, either as a group or as individuals, and I have a sacred bond and commitment to them for as long as I may live. To protect them in whatever way I am able, to love them always and to listen very, very intently.

I found it! High Mountain Herb Heaven is very nearby! Yesterday, Loba and I were on a mission to find local Apples, mostly because they taste better but also because the cardboard Apples in the store are something like $1.50/lb. We asked around and all the usual suspects had lost their Apple flowers to late frost this Spring, which is fairly typical of this mountainous area where temperatures are erratic and seasons unpredictable. Finally, we heard a rumor that their might be some Apple AND some ripe Blackberries up past this tiny mountain village about an hour away. Now this particular village is an old mining outfit long gone defunct. It’s only about five or ten miles from the Canyon, as the crow flies. But you have to take the Saliz Pass to drive there, and brave a REALLY curvy, incredibly narrow, halfway washed out road with no guard rails to get there, there’s even a sign on the road that says “Night Travel Discouraged”. The village has about 15 Winter residents most years, and a bit more than that during the snowless warm seasons.

If you go through the village you find yourself on National Forest land, on a dirt track that leads up to one of my favorite and highest peaks in this region, up past Aspens, up to Osha, and up to the black cliffs where the Bear Fire nearly burned the whole damn mountain down last year. I’ve spent time up on this peak and the surrounding area, and the land there remains one of my two favorite mountains to gather high elevation plants and to spend time with the sub-alpine and alpine Gila. Did you know there’s Ptarmigan in New Mexico? Well there surely is, hard to get to, but there nonetheless. But I hadn’t spent hardly any time with the lower (about 7,000 feet) but narrow and cold canyon that lies just above the village and just below the peaks.

So, off we went. Through the twisty, rapidfire curves of the Saliz Pass, and then up that switchback spurred track into the mountains. Something I love about the Southwestern montane ecology is just how quickly everything can change. At the Pass, the land is defined by Ponderosa Pine, Alligator Juniper and Evergreen Oaks. At the bottom of the road leading to the village, it’s grasslands with a thousand wildflowers ranging from Evening Primrose to Sweet Clover to Mexican Poppy, further up the road it turns Prickly Pear, Evergreen Oak, Juniper and Acacia. All along this stretch, fat purple Prickly Pear fruits beckoned to us. Pressed for time, we could only gaze longingly at them as we sped around another curve. Seven miles up, we could see the whole damn Gila, with its golden grasslands and its towering green ridges, its sparkling rivers and its rolling woodland hills that stretched out before us in shades of purple, green, mauve and cream. Pressed against the sheer cliffs in our little gray truck, the landscape was like a vast embrace, an incredibly lucid dream, or perhaps, like waking up from some b&w dream to see all the actual colors of the world.

Nine miles in, right near the village, the land suddenly shifted again, all Goldenrod, Yarrow, Spruces and Periwinkle. The village itself is amazing, and I don’t say that very often about any place where more than a dozen people live at one time. It’s some strange time warp back to the late 1800’s with a bit of the 1960’s thrown in. Big gardens, a little cafe, fruit trees and genuine Old West storefronts line the one road that leads through town. That lasts for about two minutes and then we’re in the woods again, hugged by the narrow canyon walls laced with lichen and moss. Sure enough, there were literally miles of berry crowded creek. First, there were blackberries, well past their prime but still holding a good amount of fruit. Then Raspberries, with only a few tender berries remaining. Wild Motherwort, Plantain, Red Osier Dogwood, Figwort, Alum Root, Violets, Wild Roses, Yarrow, Mint, and many other plants I only vaguely recognized. To top it off there was a whole colony of False Solomon’s Seal erupting from the rock walls, with happy fat roots just below the rich soil surface.

Loba and I spent an hour and a half standing in the creek gathering berries before we had to head back so as to find the apples before dark. Along the way I harvested some Blackberry and Raspberry leaves, a huge handful of Plantain, a bunch of Motherwort and few choice chunks of False Solomon’s Seal root. And on the way home we found the Apple orchard or our dreams, free access to several dozen trees with their branched weighed nearly to the ground with fruit. We have about a hundred pounds of Apples to still haul up the hill to the mesa in packs tonight.

And we’re going back tomorrow. And we’re getting some Prickly Pears this time!
It’s amazing to have such a range of herbs to work with, from the desert to the sub-alpine mountains, it’s all within an hour of my doorstep. And while nothing can compare to the innate magic of the Canyon herself, the whole Gila feels like home and I’m so grateful to intimately know a portion of this place’s spirit.

 note: For the Local Herb Blog Challenge I meant October 3rd not November 3rd, so sorry about the slip. 

Here I am playing in the garden, predictably surrounded by favorite Sages, the red flower on the left is S. coccinea and the blue flower in front of me and to the right is S. azurea, there’s also some S. greggii and S. officianale very nearby but you can’t seem them here. The vine growing up the arbor on the back right is a lovely transplanted wild Hops plant that is flowering right this very minute. You can also see a rapidly growing Datura plant right in front of my hands and some mad as a hatter wild Dock to the left too, it’s completely crazy and takes over the whole garden, good thing it’s so yummy or I’d be annoyed with it.

So here’s my new local list of herbs I plan on working with most intensely for the next year. How hard it was to narrow down the list was in itself an incredibly gratifying experience, to just know how much abundance and medicine I’m surrounded by all the time. I feel so blessed.

When I was in Albuquerque the other day I noticed anew that diversity is never limited to wild or rural places, but insists itself upon even the dingiest ghetto and most uptight gated community. Everywhere I went there was an amazing variety of medicinal and edible plants, from the Russian Sage so common in xeriscaping to Arizona Cypress gracing front yards and roadsides to the infamous Dandelion popping up in every watered corner to luscious Prickly Pear growing damn near everywhere. If this much abundance can grow in Albuturkey then surely most of us can find a dozen or so local plants upon which to grow ever closer to. If you’re not able to do the Local Herbal Challenge you can at least connect in a close way to a few yard weeds or garden invaders. Weeds are fiercely insistent upon living, and provide us with an amazing abundance of this vital energy whenever we partake in their powerful medicine.

• 1. Wild Rose – Well, there’s a surprise, eh? Yes, I love my local New Mexico Wild Rose and Wood’s Rose, I’m getting to know her better every year and am excited to focus on her even more.
• 2. The Salvias – Another family I’ve worked with extensively, but every year I seem to find a new subspecies here to get to know. And they grow wonderfully in the house and garden too. A vital plant for my well-being, I can’t imagine life without Sages!
• 3. Elder – An old and dear friend. There’s a few trees here that I hope to propagate and more up towards Bear Wallow Mountain and Luna that I need to search out and get to know a bit better.
• 4. Nettles- An amazing ally and a plant I simply couldn’t live without. They grow throughout the moist, shady areas of the Gila.
• 5. The Moonworts – aka Western Mugwort or Another Artemisia, I’ve counted something like seven different subspecies here now and there’s probably more. A powerful medicine I depend on to keep Wolf’s liver in good shape and to heal any number of wounds and aches. They grow damn near everywhere, up here on the mesa, beside the river and in the grasslands. When I traveled northwards to SD I saw them everywhere too. And I’ve heard that Mugwort loves NYC and other urban areas as well. A passionately present plant, that one.
• 6. Yarrow – A water loving meadow plant that likes to hide beneath the taller plants for some relief from the SW sun. I have to gather this on in little bunches because they don’t grow in big stands here except in the high mountains. Here in the middle mountains, I see a couple flowers here and there throughout the canyon this time of year.
• 7. Mallow – Globemallows, Common Mallow and a mysterious pink upright mallow I just love. Another plant that grows everywhere, especially this time of year. We recently harvested a few wheelbarrow loads to dry for infusion.
• 8. Monarda – A frequent resident of the big arroyo, this is an important plant for food and medicine here. Another smaller spp grows on roadsides and in meadows.
• 9. Goldenrod – This honey scented beauty stays in shady mountain places, and is just this week beginning to bloom here. I’m hoping for a good season this time around as we’ve had two poor years and I need to restock my Goldenrod oil supply.
• 10. Alder – A nitrogen fixing riverside land healer. Common throughout the west in wet places. I’ve had some amazing experiences with this underused anti-infective lymphatic, and hope to continue discovering the plant’s many gifts.
• 11. Evening Primrose – A friend I’m just getting to know this Summer, we have about four, maybe more, different spp of this graceful flower here. Though most books recommend just using the upright species, I’ve used the smaller white flowered Dune Primroses with great success.
• 12. Peach – Yes, my Peach is local believe it or not. I have several neighbors with beautiful Peach trees in their yards. They’re more than happy to let me harvest leaf and bark, though they think I’m most eccentric for doing so.
• 13. Chokecherry – I love our native Cherry trees, graceful and stinky, they line the arroyos and occasionally pop up on random roadsides. I still have a lot to learn from this plant, I feel like modern common usage has just scratched the surface of the abilities of this amazing tree (except for Matt Wood who has written some amazing stories about it).
• 14. Blisswort aka Skullcap – And old friend that grows in cool Ponderosa Pine forests and blooms only with sufficient moisture.
• 15. Cottonwood – Wonderfully resinous healer and tonic, Cottonwood is a standby for me, both internally and externally.
• 16. Oregon Grape Root – A small trailing woody plant of shady mountain areas, I also have a friend in the village who grows a giant NWestern species with the most delicious berries ever. I’ve worked with this one off and on but want to really focus on getting to know it much better this year.
• 17. Corydalis aka Golden Smoke – A mysteriously beautiful little plant that can be quite common in rainy springs and non-existent in dry ones. A wonderful medicine for grief and chronic pain I’ve been working this Summer.
• 18. Plantain – I love every kind of Plantain. In the canyon we have the wooly kind, the narrow leaved kind and broad leaved kind plus I’m growing a giant broad leaved one in the garden. I’ve been using Plantain for a long long time.
• 19. Potentilla – Especially the red flowered species of the arroyos and rivers.
• 20. Monkeyflower – Such a lovely little plant, how can I say no to it? A common riverside plant in wet years.
• 21. Larrea aka Creosote Bush – I really love this amazing resinous desert native. At first, I was resistant to working with it because it doesn’t actually grow in the canyon, and is mostly found at the edge of the 100 mile range, but I’ve given in. I’ve been working with Larrea off and on for several years, you just can’t beat it for venomous insects and general wound care. Plus, you can store it forever.
• 22. Ambrosia aka Ragweed – A lovely (yes, I called Ragweed lovely) and vigorous weed that can cover acres in a single season. Incredibly useful medicinally. I’m just getting acquainted with it the last two years.
• 23. Spanish Needles aka Bidens – Common, pretty weed with myriad uses. My current favorite mucus membrane tonic.
• 24. Cleavers – Finally found this gentle, useful weed growing in the mountains nearby though I’ve not yet found it in the Canyon proper.
• 25. Osha aka Bear Medicine – As you can imagine, I have a strong connection with this well known and powerful plant. It’s somewhat hard to find, even here. It grows in the high mountains in certain spots here. I harvest only very small amounts from places that are traditional gathering spots by the local Hispanic villagers (as told to me by some of the old people here).
• 26. Dandelion – The perennial weedy favorite, not much of it grows in the canyon, but nice people in the village save the ones in their yard for me.
• 27. Motherwort- It grows crazily wild nearby, but I also grow it in my tiny little weed garden.
• 28. Mountain Bluebells (Mertensia ciliata)- An enchanting Aspen forest plant, I’m trying to grow it in a cool wet place in the Canyon as well.
• 29. Blackberry/Raspberry – Tenacious Rose family water lovers that live in mixed conifer forest, in cool, well shaded creeks and springs.
• 30. Wild Honeysuckle – A bittersweet and very cooling vine/shrub that has a peculiar kind of mixed medicine I don’t really understand yet. Likes to grow everywhere in the canyon, among the Junipers, near the river and up higher in the Pine forest.
• 31. Violet – I finally found native wild Violets, and lots of them! Looking forward to spreading them to the Canyon, and still working with the sweet little V. tricolors in the garden.
• 32. Burdock – A new friend growing in the garden.
• 33. Borage – Another friend I just started growing in the garden, but one I’ve known for a long time, as she was one of the first plants I ever grew in my very first herb garden at about ten.
• 34. Mullein – Just too useful and common to leave out, it grows everywhere here, from the riverbanks to the mesa to the forest floor. I’ve been working with Mullein for a long time, but it always seems to have a few more surprises in store.
• 35. Pine – Oh so common in the SW, we have the Piñon Pine as well as the larger, cream soda scented Ponderosas. I use the resin like copal in ceremony, and every part of the tree in medicine.
• 36. Vervain – An overwhelming plant for me, but she’s so damn useful I just can’t leave her off the list. She’s excellent used externally too, for pain, swelling and nerve pain.
• 37. Sunset Hyssop – A euphorically scented beauty growing from the cliffsides.
• 38. Grindelia – Mmmmm, sticky, resinous little sunshine plant. A lover of disturbed places and fields in these part. I need to get out and gather the last of this year’s harvest. Hard as hell to dry without molding during monsoon season though.
• 39. Mexican/California Poppy – A roadside favorite in southern NM that also grows in my garden. A perfect overall nervine for most people, including children (if you can get them to swallow it )
• 40. Silk Tassel aka Garrya – A good pain remedy and anti-spasmodic. A very common in plant in parts of the SW, we have about four or five medium size bushes here. It makes the weirdest black tincture, like a poison potion from a Disney movie

A note: I will be still experimenting with new plants during the year as well as continuing to treat others with my currently huge apothecary, at least for now.

Yesterday’s post made caused me to remember a comment made by Michelle on the Herbwife’s Kitchen’s Eat Local This September post about having a blogparty based on using local herbs for month. It makes sense to me to do that this month while it’s still harvest time for most of us. So here we are, and I’d like to host a blogparty (also called a meme in the blogosphere) this month.

The challenge is this: use local (wild, garden-grown or purchased from a local grower/wildcrafter from within appr. 100 milese) herbs as much as possible for the next month and then share your experiences and thoughts on your blog (or website). Send me (use the Red Artemis addy please) the link at the end of the month and I’ll post them all here on October 3rd. I’m doing this on the 3rd rather than the 1rst in order to not overlap with the First Ally blogparty hosted by Darcey.

So come on folks, get out the weeds and wildflowers and let’s have a party!

The nights and mornings feel much cooler since the lunar eclipse and the plants are responding to the temperature change through shifting color and vigorous fruiting. As the light shifts from the summer fireball blast to the luminescent gold of another mountain autumn I’m out checking on the plants, making a few lists and prioritizing the herbs I most want to harvest and what I need to get through the winter. I’m also constantly working at keeping my materia medica slimmed down to essential plants that I feel truly intimate with. Darcey Blue’s been paring down her apothecary as well and will even be selling so of her “leftovers”.

During this joyful process of harvesting and discernment, I’ve noticed an uncomfortable habit leftover from my days as a wanderer, which is to stick with commonly known, widely available weeds, even if they’re a bit rare here. Which is great, cuz that’s what I like to teach about anyway since my students come from all over the world, and back in the day it served me well to know that anywhere I went I would my beloved Ground Ivy, Plantain or Mint. And yet, I find this tendency to stick to the familiar, to cling to what can be found everywhere is a stumbling block in my journey towards becoming really, truly at home here. So at home that my body is no longer separate from that of the plants, or the quartz studded stones, or the river that flows between the stones and plants. And so I’ve undertaken a task to really get to know the very specific species that are common to here.

And what does here mean exactly? I don’t define it as just the twenty yards around my cabin, or even just the canyon. Rather, I’m referring to an area something like the semi-nomadic natives might have considered to be local. So we’ll say, about 100 miles, which is a good chunk of the Gila.

There’s a definite lack of literature on the subject of wild plants of the Gila. Michael Moore has lots of great Southwestern plant info, as does Charlie Kane, and Darcey Williamson and Janice Schofield are two of my favorite Western herbal authors. But what if I want to know about the subspecies of Nettles here, or the particular kind of Pink Mallow that dots the hillsides just now that doesn’t seem to be in any of the books? Now, I’ve been learning from the locals for several years now, memorizing the local names for certain plants and writing down the uses and I have been doing lots of one on one time with the local endemic plants (like with my lovely Salvia subincisa) but now I mean to get down to it for real.

The way I intend to do this is to try to narrow my primary personal materia medica down to about twenty-five plants that are all from HERE, and especially focus on the ones peculiar to here. I’ll still use my normal materia medica when working with clients for now, and I’ll have them on hand in case I feel like a situation really calls for a certain plant. But for myself, I want to imbue myself with just their medicine for a while, to feel what it’s like to have just local wild plants in my body, to hear what they’ll say to me when I’m deeply focused on them.

I also plan to work with these plants in a certain way, which is mostly experiential. I’ve read the books, and I’ve poured over countless pages of studies and research, but right now I really want to hear it all firsthand. So, I’ll use basic field guides so that I know just what plants and plant families I’m dealing with, but besides that I want to use mainly my own senses and not constantly double guess those senses by cross-referencing everyone else.

I love Isla Burgess’s method (if you could call it that) of approaching the plant with each of our senses: sight, touch, smell, taste, intuition. And to figure out what each of those senses is telling you about the plant and your relationship with it. Not about systemizing it, but about learning to listen. We’ll talk more about that in the Talking With Plants series.

So, hmmmm. What plants then? Some I know well already, some I’m just beginning to fall in love with. I’ll make up a little list and put on the sidebar sometime soon, and I’ll update you as I get deeper into the groove with the process.

And BTW, I’ve been getting just tons of letters from blogreaders lately (thank you!) and I love it when any of you comment too. It can also give me a better sense of what people are most needing and wanting. Speak up!