Late Summer Tincture-Making Workshop: August 10th!

Tincture-Making Workshop

Saturday, August 10, 2013, 1-5:00 p.m.

Wapsinonoc Farm, West Branch, IA

At this workshop you will:

•         Learn about the healing properties of a variety of medicinal plants growing in Wapsinonoc Gardens

•         Tour the medicinal gardens

•         Choose one or more plants that you would like to tincture

•         Harvest your chosen plants, clean, prepare, and fill tincture jars to take home

Provided:

•         Handouts of medicinal plant descriptions and uses, & instructions on tincturing

•         Lots of individual attention as you choose your plants and make your tinctures

•         Medicinal plants

•         Large and small jars for tincturing

•         Small dosage dropper bottle

•         100 proof vodka

•         Snack

Cost: $50 per person. Please register early as workshop is limited to ten people.

Contact info: Nan Fawcett, 2039 Eureka Avenue, West Branch, IA 52358 nanjfawcett@gmail.com or 319-643-3342. To see the medicinal herbs growing at Wapsinonoc Gardens, go to WapsinonocGardens.blogspot.com.

Message to Myself: Catch the beauty before it fades

Spring seems truly a magical time of year, especially this year, for we have been waiting through a long and cold winter. Just last week we were still waiting, still bundling up to go outside, wishing for sun and warmth. And suddenly there it was, Spring bursting out everywhere. In a way, it seemed a bit surreal. Could this really be it, or was it another false start? 

Maybe the hesitancy to believe was the reason why so many of us walked and drove through this exceptionally abundant explosion of growth without taking proper notice. I remember passing my magnolia, its blooms the fullest I'd ever seen, and thinking that I should stop and properly pay homage to this miracle of beauty. Yet my schedule pushed me on to other things, and now it is too late. Already the blossoms have fallen with the rain.

In the very early spring, there is an almost ethereal green in the new growth of trees, surrounding a high landscape with iridescence. I'm sure you have experienced it, walking out into this tender time of year when all around seems held in a kind of magical spell. Though the glowing green is what we notice, there is more to this phenomenon than color, I think. A teeming energy surrounds and supports this new growth, making the outside world gently glow. And we feel this field of energy. It touches our own energy fields and catalyzes a rebirth of sorts in us too. We are caught up in the web of life and held gently in that mass of interconnections.

It doesn't last long, this burgeoning of glowing green, only a very few days. And it is over now. The maple tree above has already grown larger, tougher leaves, leaves that can withstand the hard rain and wind to come. And the giant grandfather cottonwood below, having survived over a hundred years of storms and lightning strikes, has already shed its early buds, the ones from which we make Balm of Gilead, and is reaching once more into the sky with resilient new growth.

I celebrate this time of year, the incredible phenomenon of earth waking from winter's sleep and bursting out with new life. And in spite of the busy schedule that tends to dominate all our lives in this part of the world, my hopeful intent is to spend time each day in a quiet attentiveness to this gift of nature.

Turning of the Year

The view from my south porch has changed dramatically since I took this picture three days ago. Now there are fewer leaves on the trees, and they are not as bright, whereas the ground is thick with a cushion of yellow and red. Some folks thought we would not have a beautiful autumn show because of the drought, but it has been quite lovely here. Two nights of freezing temperatures several weeks ago ended the season for tender plants, but the hardy ones are still enjoying the crisp clear weather.

Still we are in drought conditions. Even though autumn is often dry here in Iowa, we've not recovered from the lack of rain in the summer. So I have been watering both gardens. The well here on the farm seems just fine yet, and the old red pump, seated in the center of the comfrey above, has been working overtime this past week.

It is interesting to see what plants survive despite drought conditions. The yellow beets (below) were a big surprise! They did not get particular care this summer, nor much watering. Yet they produced huge roots that are tender and sweet. And some large turnips that should have been harvested months ago also surprised me with a sweet smooth texture and flavor. I am grateful!

I have stayed home today with a virus of some sort, and it has slowed me down. Though I don't like to be sick, it is good to slow down. I have just finished watching the movie "I Am" and I am hoping that those who read this blog will find it and watch it too. For those of us who are concerned about the way the world is going, this film is a good prescription. It shows how we've gone astray, but also shows that built into our DNA is the ability to bring us around. I most emphatically recommend it!

Do You Want to Make Plant Medicine? Here's how!

Medicine from Plants:
Tincture-Making Workshop

Sunday, October 28, 2012

Wapsinonoc Farm, West Branch, Iowa

At this workshop you will:

• Learn about the healing properties of a variety of medicinal plants growing in Wapsinonoc Gardens.
• Choose one or more plants suited to your own needs.
• Tour the medicinal gardens
• Harvest your chosen plants, clean, prepare and fill tincture jars to take home.

Provided:

• Handouts of medicinal plant descriptions and uses, & instructions on tincturing
• Lots of individual attention as you choose your plants and make your tinctures
• Medicinal plants
• Large and small jars for tincturing
• Small dosage dropper bottle
• 100 proof vodka
• Snack

Cost: $50 per person. Please register early as workshop is limited to ten people.

Contact Info: Nan Fawcett, 2039 Eureka Avenue, West Branch, IA 52358, nanjfawcett@gmail.com.

RAIN

Finally, when our hopes had diminished and we were well into crisis mode, the rain came. At first it was hard to believe. So often we had been disappointed. Clouds can look so full of promise, and yet a few scattered raindrops only serve to accentuate the desperate need for moisture. This time, though, the rain came hard, a real downpour, blown in by wind from the west. I stopped what I was doing. Nothing mattered as much as witnessing this event. I went out onto the south porch and created a little nest from which to watch. The rain drenched me to the skin, and still I sat there, giving thanks to the universe.

I hope you can see the raindrops on the leaves in the pictures above. At the time, it seemed a miracle, the dust all washed away and the plants reaching up in gratitude, or so it seemed. Still, of course, it was too late for many things. Whole crops had died or been stunted, and the fate of long-living friends like the trees was still in question. One rain would not be enough. But it was a start.

And then it rained again, and later again. The ground is still dry if you dig down several inches, but shallow-rooted things are in a rush to catch up. Lawns are green again. Perennials whose growth died early are now making a come-back. Nature is rebounding and it is even easy to occasionally forget that our earth at this local level went through a crisis so recently. Nature is showing her resiliency, and it is inspiring. But she needs increasing resiliency these days of climate change and ecosystem destruction. She needs all the support she can get.

Drought

It is hard to be inspired to write anything on the blog during this record-breaking drought. I have no beautiful photo to grace this entry. A photo of the gardens would only be depressing. Sometimes we boast about an impressive statistic. But this one leaves only a dismal and hopeless feeling. In mid-summer the gardens and fields are usually lush with produce here. Yet today when you walk outside, the grass crackles and breaks under foot, the plants are shriveled and stunted. And each time clouds cover the sky, you wait, hoping, praying for rain. It has been so long since it rained that it is hard to remember that beautiful sound on the roof, on the trees. Surely it will rain again, but when the clouds have passed us by so many times, one begins to wonder if this absence of life-giving water will ever end. The last prediction I heard was that it will be October before we get real rain, far too late to rescue any crops. Can the trees survive this, I wonder? Do they have ways of hunkering down, preserving energy, minimizing output? I imagine that Nature does have  a wealth of strategies when it responds to a crisis such as this. And I would like to learn those ways.

If this is a trend, if we are looking at a shift in the climate here, our lives are going to change in dramatic ways very soon. Conservation will become a necessity. Simplicity will allow survival. Even though I am grieving for the plants, for all of nature outside, I hope I have space in myself to also learn from this experience so that I can be better prepared for the future.

Weeders needed!

I have been doing trades all year: weeding for massage sessions or plants. And now that it has rained (hooray), there is more weeding to be done. If you are interested and live nearby, please send me an email at nanjfawcett@gmail.com and we can set up a time. It is fun to weed together. Good conversation can happen and more gets done!