Y'all our CSA starts FRIDAY and this is a note for all you local to the Eastern Shore of Virginia folks reminding you to sign up for our CSA. Today is your final chance before I close the subscription. Starting Friday and continuing into September, you will receive a weekly box of seasonal vegetables, herbs and fruit. Each week you will also receive a newsletter describing each vegetable, how to store and cook it, plus recipes, tips and more. I grow each of the vegetables from seed all the way to harvest on your table and each box is a labor of love designed to generously feed a family of 3-4 or a couple who eats a lot of vegetables. You don't want to miss out, shares are going fast, so sign up today!
There are certain herbs I've been growing on this land from the beginning, over a decade ago, when we first started farming. Gradually, over the years, I've come to know them, their likes and dislikes, their affinities, songs, and seasons. Until finally, they're friends. Old friends, the kind you feel perfectly at ease with, savoring quiet moments simply being together.
Chamomile, Matricaria recutita, is one of those herbs for whom I have a great fondness. She is so very mischievous. She is forever gaily laughing at me after I've picked an entire row, only to turn around quite frustrated to discover so many more flowers dancing merrily in the breeze, unpicked. She likes you to spend time with her and demands it, in fact, as you comb out her constellations. Such tiny flowers. They have always reminded me of shuttlecocks and summers at the beach playing badminton.
Chamomile isn't all fun and games, though. She's particular, especially about how and where she is planted, demanding to be direct seeded and surface sown while the soil is still cool and the sun gentle. Yet despite this, she is found the world over from the temperate regions of Asia to Egypt and Greece, across Europe and the Americas. If you're particularly kind to her, she'll self-sow, reseeding year after year just to say hello again. Didn't I say she likes company?
Chamomile loves your company and enjoys being in community with you and the land, returning year after year whether or not you want her in a particular place. This plant has a mind all her own.
And I've spent many delightful hours in Chamomile's company. Oh, how I love the way she smells and the sticky, ruddy residue she leaves behind on my fingers after a long morning of picking. She's welcoming to me as I pick and to all the bees and pollinators that feast off her myriad flowers. The tiniest of flowers for tea and tincture, a balm to calm the stomach and nerves, ease inflammation, and a soothing lullaby to help usher in a restful night of sleep. She is so gentle but so powerful too. Perhaps this is the greatest lesson of all from her. Such a mighty delicate flower with the power to heal inside and out. What a gift.
Though an annual, Chamomile loves your company and enjoys being in community with you and the land, returning year after year whether or not you want her in a particular place. This plant has a mind all her own. Good luck trying to convince her otherwise or telling her what to do. She likes sandy soil, not too wet so she thrives on the particular parcel of land I care for in coastal Virginia, although she strongly dislikes extreme heat and humidity, so she's an early visitor for me, arriving in March. Chamomile is sensitive to my complaints and carefully tries not to overstay her welcome, so by the summer solstice, once you can cut through the humidity with a knife, and often even before, she is gone. It probably doesn't help that she so often hears me complaining about the abundance of her blooms, which I feel compelled to pick lest she leave even sooner.
Historically, Chamomile was planted around the borders of houses, in front of windows, and just outside your front stoop because she brought good luck, health, protection, and comfort. Records of her use date back to ancient Greece, Egypt, and Rome. Traditionally, she is associated with the planet Mercury. She's a gentle healer, and her bitter tonic aids in calming digestive upsets, easing nerves, and soothing us gently into sleep.
In the garden, she plays a similar role. We compost her in cow intestines, hanging her over the summer before burying her until she turns into a fine blackish gold. Finally, after she has transformed into something else entirely, we add her to our compost pile to aid in the digestion of all the materials of last year’s garden as they break down into next year's fertility; eventually to be added back, in a cycle that replays itself year after year, just like the chamomile herself who chooses to return to us each year.
Chamomile is most commonly ingested in tea form. Don't most of us have a bag (or three) of chamomile tea squirreled away somewhere at the back of our cabinets for that sleepless night or when our nerves need to be soothed after a long day? This quite sweet and aromatic tea conjures up feelings of safety and home, calming us down when our bodies and minds need to unwind.
She is one of those magical herbs that can adapt to our needs in the moment. As a nervine tonic, she is gentle enough to be taken throughout the day to soothe anxiety yet powerful enough to be used right before sleep for those who are restless or find themselves having difficulty falling asleep.
Historically, Chamomile was planted around the borders of houses, in front of windows, just outside your front stoop because she brought good luck, health, protection and comfort.
Chamomile can also be tinctured for medicine or steeped in oil for salves and soaps. Applied topically, she contains strong antimicrobial, as well as anti-inflammatory properties that can aid in healing everything from cuts and wounds to eczema and rashes. If taken by tea or tincture, her anti-inflammatory properties can also aid in soothing joint pain, digestive issues, chronic pain, and autoimmune disorders as well.
I like to pick her blossoms first thing in the morning, once the dew has evaporated, but well before the sun arrives in full force overhead. Then, I spread her out on a large herb drying rack with a fan overhead so she can dry properly. Once fully dried, she is stored until I blend her into tea, steep her in oil for future salves, or tincture her.
Chamomile tea is one of my favorites to sip on throughout the day. I love her mixed in with mint, nettle, rose, oats, and holy basil for a calming, nervine tea when I am busy and on the go. But she is also a star in my homemade salves, lending a healing hand to St. John's Wort, comfrey, and plantain.
What is your favorite way to use Chamomile? Is she a staple in your own home? Do you integrate her into your nightly bedtime ritual, as so many others have done for centuries before? I find that there is something quite soothing in this act. I'd love to hear your own experiences using chamomile.
xxxxx Natalie
Natalie, on the days when my life sucks and I start to believe nothing is good anymore, I read your journal and it heals my spirit. This intentional life y'all have built is charmed. You have tapped into how to find the magic in every instance. You are incredibly resilient and you own your power. Sometimes when I'm having a shitty day, I read your words, imagine I am there, cuddling a new lamb, or getting dirt under my fingernails while digging the bounty out of the earth, or in your kitchen having a cup of chamomile and something you've baked while chatting about just about anything. You are freaking amazing! Thanks for sharing your life so generously with your readers. Respect, lady.
Lovely chamomile - I enjoyed reading about this generous herb growing on your farm. It is surprisingly difficult to find good sources of chamomile - I despair at some of the teabags of dried up lifeless ‘chamomile’ and loose dried ‘flowers’ I have purchased over the years. Once I have found a supplier of well-dried aromatic, colourful flowers (usually organic accredited) I carry on ordering despite any extra costs as it is vital for my good sleep, an infused mug at night does help a lot. Perhaps I should more seriously look into growing my own, thanks for getting me thinking on this!