China Bayles' Book of Days (49 page)

Then decide where you want to develop the ball, and strip the leaves below that point, being careful not to damage the stem. Prune the plant to approximate the shape you want, cutting just past the growth nodes to encourage bushiness. As new growth appears on the stem, pinch it off; retie the stem as necessary to ensure straight growth. As new growth shoots out from the nodes in the ball, keep shaping it. If you want to create a double-ball standard, train the central stem to grow straight up, shaping the higher ball some six inches above the lower. If you like, add moss or rocks to cover the soil surface. Care for your plant as you would for any potted rosemary.

Design, plant, trim, and enjoy a topiary:

Herb Topiaries,
by Sally Gallo

Plantain and house-leek, boiled in cream, and strained before it is put away to cool, makes a very cooling, soothing ointment. Plantain leaves laid upon a wound are cooling and healing.

—MRS. CHILD, THE AMERICAN FRUGAL HOUSEWIFE, 1833

AUGUST 25

A tree grows which they call “the fever tree” in the vicinity of Loxa [Ecuador], whose bark, of the color of cinnamon, made into powder of the weight of two small silver coins and given as a beverage, cures the fevers and tertians [malaria]; it has produced miraculous results in Lima.

—FATHER CALACHA, 1633

The Powder of the Devil

Malaria, as old as recorded history, was dreaded by everyone, for even if the mosquito-borne disease did not kill, it shattered the victim’s health. We might still be helpless against it if it were not for a tree with yellow bark, and people with the courage to try what must have seemed like a Peruvian witch doctor’s barbaric powder—which is exactly what Oliver Cromwell called it when he lay dying of malaria, preferring the physicians’ bloodletting to “the powder of the devil,” as he called it.

In fact, as William Cook wrote in 1869, seventeenth-century physicians angrily opposed the use of
Cinchona
powder, calling it “absolutely pernicious”; their rejection was, he says, “a marked illustration of the astounding bitterness with which learned men will oppose the progress of knowledge.” The remedy might never have been accepted if a former apothecary’s apprentice named Robert Talbor had not treated King Charles II of England with an infusion of cinchona powder in white wine. When the king was cured, demand for the bark shot up, and within the next century, the trees—growing on remote mountains at altitudes up to 10,000 feet—had been harvested to the point of extinction. Clearly, the
Cinchona
had to be grown in plantations. However, the Indians believed that if the trees were ever successfully grown elsewhere, the native
Cinchona
would die, and did everything they could to prevent that from happening.

But in 1865, an adventurous British trader named Charles Ledger managed to smuggle out a pound of seeds. Inexplicably, the British government was not eager to acquire them, but the Dutch were more than happy to oblige. By 1881, nearly three-quarters of a million
Cinchona
trees were growing on plantations in Dutch-held Java, and quinine—the Devil’s Powder—was available to the world.

More about quinine:

The Fever Bark Tree: The Pageant of Quinine,
by Marie Louise Duran-Reynals

AUGUST 26

The heart that has truly loved never forgets,
But as truly loves on to the close,
As the sunflower turns on her god when he sets
The same look which she did when he rose.
—THOMAS MOORE, “BELIEVE ME IF ALL THOSE ENDEARING YOUNG

CHARMS”

Sunflowers

These sun-worshippers are blooming now in meadows, along roadsides, and in gardens, pleasing butterflies, birds, and people. These plants, which belong to the genus
Helianthus
and are named for their habit of following the sun’s movement, are as useful as they are pretty, providing nutritious seeds to eat, fiber for materials, medicine, a golden yellow dye, and an all-purpose oil. Domestically cultivated by Native Americans as long ago as 5,000 years, the plant was introduced into Europe in the sixteenth century.

THE ORNAMENTAL SUNFLOWER

Sunflowers are among the easiest—and most impressive—annuals. They love the sun (naturally!), require plenty of water, and the taller varieties need some protection from the wind. In spring, plant the seeds in rich, well-drained soil, about twelve inches apart. Expect blooms in 10-12 weeks, and stake where necessary. Harvest the heads before the birds do and hang in paper bags to dry. The head is dry when you can rub the seeds loose.

THE EDIBLE SUNFLOWER

Sunflower seeds are packed with healthy unsaturated fats, protein, and fiber, plus important nutrients like the antioxidant vitamin E. Since they have a very high oil content, they are a valuable source of polyunsaturated oil. Raw or roasted, whole or ground, they can be used in recipes in place of other nuts—in your favorite pesto recipe, for instance, as a substitute for pine nuts. To roast your harvest, spread on cookie sheets and roast at 150-200° until completely dry (about 3-4 hours), stirring once or twice. Store in a lidded jar in the refrigerator.

THE APOTHECARY SUNFLOWER

The leaves and seeds have been used as an expectorant and a diuretic, and (in a decoction) as a treatment for bronchitis. In Russia, the leaves were used as a treatment for malarial fevers. The oil is high in linoleic acid; in lotions and salves, this fatty acid helps the skin to retain moisture.

All about sunflowers:

Sunflowers
, by Debra M. Mancoff

What a desolate place would be a world without flowers! It would be a face without a smile, a feast without a welcome.

—CLARA L. BALFOUR

AUGUST 27

The whole toppe with its pleasant yellow floures sheweth like to a wax candle or taper cunningly wrought.

—HENRY LYTE, 1578

A Plant of a Hundred Names

The folk names of herbs often reflect their uses. Take mullein, for example, the tall, erect plant that is blooming bright yellow along dry, gravelly roadsides in many parts of the country just now. Roman soldiers stripped off the leaves and flowers, bundled the resinous stalks together, and dipped them in tallow: they called it
candelaria.
In England, the stringy fibers of the stalk were twisted and used as wicks for candles: candlewick plant. Because the plant was thought to be burned by witches, it was sometimes called the hag’s taper. And during the last century, miners in the American West burned the stalks as torches in their mines. They called it miner’s candle.

The stalk itself resembled a rod, and because it was so strong and straight, it was sometimes connected with authority: Aaron’s rod (which “was budded, and brought forth buds, and bloomed blossoms,” Numbers 17:8), or Jupiter’s staff (perhaps it might be used to ward off lightning?). Alternatively, it was beggar’s staff, presumably because a beggar couldn’t afford a staff made of stouter material. And then there are the large, soft, fuzzy, flannel-like leaves at the base of the plant, making it poor man’s

flannel, flannel-flower, flannel-jacket, flannel petticoats, Adam’s flannel. In other places, it took its name from a slightly different resemblance: Donkey’s Ear or Bunny’s Ear. And in modern America, some wilderness campers call it Hiker’s Toilet Paper!

Over the centuries, herbalists have found many uses for mullein. The fresh flowers were steeped in oil and used as earache drops, while a tea was thought to relieve the symptoms of gout. The juice of the leaves and flowers was said to remove warts, and the leaves, as a poultice, treated coughs and bronchitis.

P.S. To be botanically correct, we should also point out that mullein, by any other name or not, remains
Verbascum thapsus.

Read about the hidden history of plants:

The Illustrated Plant Lore,
by Josephine Addison

When rain is coming, frogs change color.

—TRADITIONAL WEATHER LORE

The lightnings and thundring will do no harme, if there be buried in the midst of the garden a kinde of toad called a hedge toade, closed up in a pot of earth.

—GERVASE MARKHAM, MAISON RUSTIQUE, OR A COUNTRY
FARME, 1616

AUGUST 28

Lyle Bippert and His Bug-Bee-Gone

At the close of the Merryweathers’ Herb Guild meeting yesterday, Lyle Bippert handed out take-home samples of his herbal bug repellant, Bug-Bee-Gone. It’s good to keep the bugs off, Lyle says, and it also works pretty well as a bass bait. Last month, he claims, while fishing in Canyon Lake, he caught a four-pound bass on a purple plastic wiggle-worm he accidentally dunked in his Bug-Bee-Gone.

Now, Lyle is famous for his fish stories, and you don’t want to believe everything he says. But it’s a fact that Hank Etzel, of Hank’s Worms & Minnows, has offered to take a dozen bottles on a trial basis. Maybe Lyle (who recently retired from his career at Filbert’s Feed Store) will be the next Texas millionaire, or maybe he’ll just catch a lot of fish. Either way, here is his formula, which will soon appear in the Guild’s new book,
Happy Thymes: A Calendula of Herbal Dillies.

BIPPERT’S SUREFIRE BUG-BEE-GONE

2 cups rubbing alcohol
12 drops rosemary oil
12 drops pine oil
12 drops lemon oil
12 drops juniper oil
12 drops citronella

Mix together in a clean peanut-butter jar with a lid. Shake before you splash it on or dunk your fishing lure in it. (Not guaranteed against killer bees.)

Lyle contributed another formula to
Happy Thymes,
this one called “Fisherman’s Foot Formula.” After he’s been wearing his fishing boots all day, he brews up a strong herbal tea: 2 quarts boiling water,
cup dried thyme,
cup dried rosemary, and
cup dried peppermint. “When this has cooled off some,” Lyle says, “I pour it in a pan and soak my tootsies in it. When I’m done, I pour it back in the jar and put it in the fridge to keep for next time.” His wife, Hazel, adds this caution: “Make sure you label the jar. Lyle’s stuff works good on feet, but it’s just not real tasty.”