Tag: Plant Lore
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Dandelion … cancer cure?
I just keep getting the feeling the cure is simple and free. I’ve loved dandelions all my life. Laid belly-down in the grass to photograph them, sipped their teas, roasted their roots, made syrups and jellies out of their golden heads. I thought I just liked them because they were cheerful and stubborn. Turns out,…
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Golden Healing Honey
Ingredients ½ cup Sourwood honey — smooth, buttery-sweet, with a hint of spice ½ cup Wildflower honey — rich and complex, carrying the medicine of many blooms 1 small handful fresh goldenrod flowers (Solidago spp.) 1 small handful fresh calendula petals (Calendula officinalis) 1 small handful fresh purple coneflower petals (Echinacea purpurea) 1 small handful…
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Mugwort, Mimosa, and the Skunk Who Blessed the Circle
The moon sat wide-eyed above me,casting silver breath over the trees.Below, the fire glowed like a heartbeat,its flames whispering to the coals in a language older than my bones. Around my neck hung Heartroot —a tiny glass vessel resting at my breastbone,filled with mugwort for vision and mimosa for joy.She breathed with me,her green and…
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When the Moon Sat With Me and the Mimosa
The moon showed up tonight—no clouds, no veil—just her quiet face gazing back at melike an old friend who finally found her way home.I told her I’d missed her,and I meant it. In the hush of the porchlight,I picked mimosa blooms—after a kiss to her leaves,soft as a promise not to take too much.And a…
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Granny Woman Garden Soup
Ooooh child, now pull up a chair and loosen your britches, ‘cause what I’m fixin’ to share ain’t just soup—it’s miracle in a mason jar. This here’s what I call Granny Woman Garden Soup—born of leftovers, backyard bounty, and a prayer whispered over steam. I didn’t follow no recipe, I followed my gut, and she…
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Moonlight and Mugwort
Tonight, beneath a full and whispering moon,I tramped barefoot through my forest—naming plants like old friends,pulling vines from what once bloomed green,the tall grasses wrapping my ankles in secrets. Ticks climbed like pilgrims toward my skin,and I, laughing, stripped bare on the porch—offering myself to the rites of the wild.A lover’s inspection under the eye…
Granny Woman 