Time to Harvest!

 My garden at Prairie Hill is large. It's right on the corner as you turn in. Because it's so high profile, I plant lots of flowers, and there is a goodly amount of vegetables too. But the real focus in my garden is  medicinal herbs. Most of them are perennials, and in this, their fourth year, they are getting large and lush and impressive. I like to harvest them in the fall mostly. The roots of many are their most potent offerings, although the leaves and flowers of some are equally valuable. Usually I make tinctures out of them all, for that process concentrates their healing properties, and tinctures last for many years.

When I was in my early 20's with two little girls to love and feed and keep healthy, I learned about medicinal plants. We were living in a small alternative community in the southern mountains. It was a natural wonderland, surrounded by forests, mountain peaks, streams racing down to the valley and a river meandering through the lowlands. Some of my neighbors knew a lot about plant medicine. By then I had discovered that I loved to garden, but finding medicine in plants was new to me. At first I learned from my friends who lived in our mountain valley. One of the first plants I turned into medicine was mullein. I remember reaching up to the top of the tall flowering mullein plants growing along our driveway, picking the yellow flowers and taking them home to make a tincture. They were supposed to be good for earaches, and daughter April often had ear infections when she got a cold. I think, though, that I was not confident enough to use the mullein tincture with April. I needed to experiment on myself awhile before I was sure about this new kind of healing practice.

Gradually I learned more about the healing properties of some plants. And I found out that in general, herbs are much safer than pills or other man-made medicine. Different herbs tend to be nurturing for different areas of the body, Their natural effect is not as dramatic as a drug, but it leaves the person healthier. In one herbal class I took, the teacher cited the causes of death in this country for a year, and herbs were at the bottom of the list. I think the number was zero, though I have to admit I can't remember that for sure. I just remember that there was a very large number of people who had died because of medicine they got at a drug store, in comparison to people who used herbs. And when you look at the history of medicine down through the ages, it is fascinating to learn how very long some of these familiar herbal remedies have been used all over the world. I love that. It makes me feel more trust in these natural helpers. And I feel a sort of kinship with those (mostly women) medicine gatherers who came before me.

All this prologue is a lead-in to the plant that I decided to harvest this week: yarrow. I have grown this sturdy flowered herb in my medicinal garden for years. It was there because I knew it had healing qualities. Yet for some reason it's never caught my attention enough for me to find out more about it. It's a strong, resilient plant that doesn't need much care, so I suppose I've taken it for granted. But this year I decided it was time to learn about it and harvest it. First I looked it up on the internet. And I was surprised at what I found! 

The most dramatic ability of yarrow is to stop bleeding. How interesting! I've never known another plant that could do that. Its Latin genus name is Achillea, named for the famous Greek Achilles, who carried it into battle to treat his soldiers' wounds. It was called herba militaris in ancient times because of this very thing: stopping the bleeding of the injuries of war. It also speeds up wound healing and reduces inflammation and infection. I always wonder how people initially found these things out. Maybe there used to be plant whisperers. 

In more peaceful times, yarrow treats minor burns, cuts, bruises and insect bites. And if you have congestion from a cold or flu, rubbing it on your chest clears the congestion. You can also take the tincture internally, where it tends to sooth inflammation in your gut. The flowers of the plant are good for internal use, and the leaves for external use. So I have picked both flowers and leaves, and I'm about to stuff them into a large jar, just as full as I can get it, and then pour Everclear (the strongest alcohol I can get in Iowa City) into the jar until it is full. It may sound strange to fill the jar twice, but you'd be surprised how much room there is left for a liquid when all you have in the jar initially is leaves and flowers, no matter how tightly packed. I'll leave the jar under my sink for three months, checking occasionally. And then I'll strain the liquid out, put the rest in the compost pile, and have a good supply of yarrow tincture for anyone to keep in their medicine cabinet.

I tend to think of plants as acquaintances, and my friends are used to hearing me talk to them. Among plant lovers, that is probably not strange. And now I have finally made a stronger acquaintance with my new friend, Yarrow. It was a long time coming. But now as I walk past the row of harvested yarrow in my garden, I take a deep breath and smile....