Monday, 25 February 2019

Hands on, how to - alder infused oil; the good, the bad and the ugly





Dammit!!
click to embiggen
We'll start with the bad and the ugly, since that's where the story begins.

I went to refill my trusty little bottle of alder oil and discovered this ----------------------------------->>>>>

My backup jar of alder oil was moldy, throughout!

See now, this is the kind of lesson one learns over and over and over when one is lazy or forgetful. You can leave herbs (almost) indefinitely in vodka, but not in oil. No sir. Normally I would have strained this - heaven knows why I didn't - and I would have put some coarse salt in the bottom of the jar of strained oil, too. Salt pulls any excess water to itself and keeps the oil from going off. Like that. Yuck.

Bad girl, wildcucumber, bad, bad!!


Saturday, 16 February 2019

Thrifty apothecary experimentations



I guess you could say we're snowed in ..

At least it's clean snow. For now.

That snowbank on the front lawn is taller than I am. It's several blizzards' worth, mind you. I'm starting to suspect the village has run out of money for snow clearing, because up til recently they were taking those monsters away every few days. Or maybe there's just no place to put it any more?

Yep.

Friday, 8 February 2019

Tools of the trade



We were driving over to the town of Renfrew, (a small town, but bigger than ours) to do some shopping.

It was a snowy, blowy, blustery day. Paul was driving (Paul always drives) and I was looking out the window (I always look out the window) at the treetops against the sullen grey sky. At the shapes of shrubs and outlines of the old, golden stalks of last year's perennials against the perfect snow. At the snow itself, sculpted by the wind, so white and so deep.

The snow is very deep this year.

As I look, I name what I'm seeing. I can't help myself, it just happens. Birch, oak, golden rod, thistle, mullein spike, alder, alder and more alder (their branches burgundy, their catkins and cones dangling like earrings). Cattails. Queen Anne's Lace, wild parsnip, corn stubble.

Some of the names fit better in winter than in summer; without their leaves, the branches of staghorn sumacs (for example) really do look like antlers. It's in winter that their thick velvet covering - just like the velvet on deer antlers - is most prominent. It begs the question - could one use staghorn sumac velvet in the same way that those ultra-macho types use deer antler velvet? I wouldn't be at all surprised.