Green Tribe of Belonging

 A couple weeks ago, tired of staying indoors, I drove to one of my favorite places, Kent Park. It was bitter cold and everything was blanketed with snow. The trails were too snow-covered to walk on, but the roads had been plowed. And I was hungry for the outdoors, despite the weather. I started to walk, looking down as I tried to skirt slippery patches, and reminded myself that this was good exercise even though there was not much to see except snow. And then I raised my head and caught my breath. In front of me and all around me were trees, standing strong and brave through the winter. But I had overlooked them, a strange thing since they were so huge. My eyes began to scan the immediate landscape, and I was awed by the variety of shapes, colors, and size of the trees. Sometimes they were tucked closely together, reaching upwards more than outwards in order to catch the sun. And then there were trees who stood more alone, reaching way out and up, outlined there against the gray backg

 What is it about harvesting food in the wild that is so satisfying? Wild plants have decided on their own to grow in a particular place.  And often they are healthier, more robust, more well adapted to their location than plants that we humans cultivate and set within a boundaried garden. That makes sense I guess, since plants have their own individual needs for topography, sun exposure, nutrients, and shelter. They only grow where they're going to thrive.   We hear a lot these days about how the age of agriculture started our decline toward a less sustainable world. It is undoubtedly true, yet this farm girl has a soft spot in her heart for agriculture. Driving through farm country, the green rolling hills with fields of corn or soybeans, pastures and cattle, orchards and woodlands are beautiful to me. Yet I know that especially as we've moved toward monoculture, using more and more chemicals, large corporations taking over farms instead of the small and caring farmer, it is

Today I want to write about one of my most valued plant friends, the plantain. Not the banana-like tropical fruit, but the humble broad-leaved inconspicuous low-to-the-ground plant under our feet. It is not native to North America but was brought over accidentally from Europe, presumably on shoes or clothing. The Native Americans called it white man's footsteps.They had it right not only because the white men (and presumably women) brought it to the new world, but also because it grows most happily where people walk. It loves compacted soil. What a good trait to have! Most plants would spurn that tough dirt.  I don't think I even noticed plantain's presence in the outdoors until I began to study medicinal herbs, and then it immediately caught my attention. Its leaves are purely magical for any kind of skin ailment. I immediately started making healing salve with it, and though I often included other botanical healers like comfrey, St Johnswort, lavender, melissabalm, rue, t