Author: Lisa Burbank

…That’s probably what many of my fiber friends will think with this revelation:  I bought a knitting loom.

Once a month my Aunt Cheryl and I go out for a girls’ day together.  Sometimes our days take us to museums or festivals but usually we wind up in book stores and various crafts’ stores.  Lunch is also a part of the deal…and lots of chatting as we catch up on what we’ve been up to for the past month or so.  My aunt just turned 50 to my soon-to-be 45.  She is my Mom’s baby sister and more like my own sister rather than Mom’s.

But I digress…

When I arrived at my aunt’s house yesterday, she started telling me about this loom she recently acquired and how she’s been using it to make hats, scarves and various other fiber products.  Her enthusiasm was infectious as she ranted on about it.  Soon she was bringing out samples of her work and, I must say, I was impressed–especially with the amount of time (or lack thereof) that it took to make the items.  I confess, I’m not the most patient individual when it comes to fiber arts.  I’ve tried spinning and weaving and I do well with them as I find them both very relaxing.  However, knitting can be a bit frustrating for me.   I have the attention span of a turnip and knitting, which is also relaxing, tends to set me daydreaming…which in turn means I lose track of my pattern, forget where I am and wind up ripping out several rows or calling upon my friend, Karen, for help, not knowing what I did wrong (thank heavens Karen is more patient than I am…lol!)   I’m not 100% sure why but I tend to be impatient with myself, expecting to grasp something relatively quickly.  That’ s the biggest part of my problem with knitting.  I expect perfection of myself from the get go.  I suppose that’s arrogance but I’ve been called worse.

The knitting loom caught on with me so well because it is extremely easy to work with and simple to use.  There are no major patterns to remember, other than keeping track of how many inches you’ve completed, so I can gather wool–no pun intended–until my heart’s content.  It is now 2:30 pm; I started my first hat shortly after church and a trip to the grocery store this morning (roughly around 12 noon).  I am halfway finished, needing another 4 inches to complete it.  Only the slight tingling of tendonitis in my left arm (from holding the loom) slowing me down a bit.  I am hoping to finish it after supper tonight.  The one scarf I hand-knitted took me 2 years to complete…partly because I had so many other endeavors filling my time and partly because I kept getting bored and impatient with myself…and casting it aside.

Yes, bored…bad me!

Now I’m not knocking hand-knitting in the least.  It is definitely a skill I hope to eventually master for it truly is an art.  But, for the sake of producing quality presents in time for Christmas, and also some surplus to possibly sell at some local craft and/or yard sales, the loom is definitely a benefit.  At this rate, I should be able to create a decent amount of inventory in a very short time.  And the best part of it is that it’s fun!   Though the shape is different, the knitting looms remind me of those little plastic weaving looms we all had as children in the 1960’s and 70’s–you know the ones!  We all made pot-holders for our mothers, grandmothers and aunts with them.  It’s also reminiscent of the hook-latch rugs we made as kids–there is a similar tool used with the knitting loom.  It’s actually inspiring me to pick up these two “lost” skills again.  Why not?  I loved them.

Of course, the knitting looms (there’s actually 4 in the package: one for baby-sized hats and scarves, one for children’s, one for ladies’ and one for men’s sizes) are inspiring in themselves.  Knowing how quickly I can churn out a simple hat, I spent much of my time gathering that wool and thinking about other hats I can make: a deep blue for my brother, Shaun; a lovely red for Mom.  I’m already contemplating whether I can make those long cone-shaped stocking caps of my childhood for my nieces.  And, of course, adding pom poms.  Surely, there is a pattern online.  My aunt recommended YouTube for some visual tips and Lion Yarns for patterns.

I can already see myself purchasing the oblong looms and there’s a special one for socks, too.  They are really inexpensive.  The price on this set of 4 was $15 at Michael’s crafts; my aunt had a coupon for 50% off for Jo-Ann’s Fabrics, which Michael’s honors, so I paid about $7.50 for them.  The others are comparable in price.  That falls in line with the self-proclaimed tightwad, too.  And the entrepreneurial side of me says cheaper equipment means I can keep my pricing reasonable once I finally have some inventory.  Eh, in this economy, everyone should have new, quality socks, hats and scarves for lower prices.

“Cheating” at knitting isn’t a bad thing in my book.  The looms definitely have their benefit but they can never truly replace hand-knitting.  They are both worthy skills to master.  I think I’m going to be enjoying them both a lot more…

My dream job is a gig at a local living history museum.  Yesterday saw that dream come true…well, almost.  The icing on the cake would be a paid position, but volunteering is so much fun, it would be sinful to be paid for it anyway.  Again, almost!

Getting paid for doing something you love is the ultimate American Dream, a dream that so few ever obtain.  Up until now, I have been like most other Americans: working the daily grind at a meaningless position, going nowhere, and to quote singer, Jewel, having my “standard of living somehow getting stuck on survive…”  I hated the Corporate World and hope I never have to go back to it.  Of course, 2 weeks left of unemployment may make me eat those words but the 20 years I spent in the corporate world has probably sheared twice as many years off of my life so I sincerely hope, if not the museum, then something local, something I can enjoy almost as much as working in living history until a paid position does open up there.  In the meantime, volunteering is a golden opportunity for the would-be homesteader.

This museum is a mecca for anyone wanting to learn back-go-basics’ skills.  My first day there I learned the basics in dipping candles and how to make a very simple tin candle holder.  It was fun.  And I can’t wait to learn more.  I also visited their herb gardens and learned how they are categorized.  I don’t know if interpreters are allowed to take home cuttings when they prune back in the spring but it would almost make up for the lack of pay!  The herb beds are quite extensive and hold an impressive variety of herbs, heirloom roses and apple trees.  As I progress, spinning, weaving, carding, knitting, quilting, pottery, shoemaking, broom making, blacksmithing, coopering, cooking on an open hearth (I already took a class on this but I am by no means proficient and can’t wait to learn more…), cheese and butter making, milking cows, antiquated ways of gardening, baking and food preservation, and more advanced tin smithing and candlemaking may be part of the package.  There are heirloom vegetables and heritage breeds of animals to become familiar with.   Dancing, storytelling, music–this, too, is offered interpreters, whether paid or not.  These are skills that can benefit everyone, especially in these economic times and our current environment.

The environment was quite different in the early-1800’s.  Granted, to be a woman in those days was not the best thing in the world.  You had no rights and were entirely dependent upon the good will–or lack thereof–of your closest male relatives.  You couldn’t vote.  You couldn’t hold office.  You couldn’t hold a career–unless, perhaps, you were wealthy and could be counted as an eccentric.  Even your children weren’t your own.  You carried them for 9 months, risked your life to deliver them as the mortality rate for both mother and child were high in those days (thank heavens for modern medicine…it does have some redeeming qualities at least!) but they belonged to your husband.  However, one thing that struck me over and again as I walked through this re-created village yesterday–and on many other occasions when I’ve visited–is how peaceful it is.  And how full of life it is!

The ecologist in me marveled at the squirrels and chipmunks who seemed almost tame.  Doubtless, they’re used to getting a bit of lunch from visitors eating outdoors but they would come quite close as they scampered about, sensing that their world in the village was safe from motorized vehicles and most predation.  Birdsong was the perfect counterpoint to their chirping.  I watched a flock of Canada geese take flight from one of the pastures and land on the Quinebaug River moments later, honking for the sheer joy of being alive.  And, like the chipmunks and squirrels, a flock of wild turkeys merely stopped to regard me warily as our paths crossed in another pasture, somehow as spellbound as I by the peace and tranquility that permeates this museum.  Dragon- and damselflies, butterflies (what’s left of them at this time of year…) and various other species of wildlife populated the village and, it was through them, that I caught a real sense of what life must’ve been like in that point in time.  A major boulevard is just beyond the trees that surround the museum yet no traffic could be heard; no profanity; no rude gestures made; no music blaring from car stereos (and, hypocritical though this statement is as I’ve certainly done my share of blasting the music about town, I can appreciate the lack of noise pollution); no negative news’ stories dancing across the boob-tube–no boob-tube at all and that is probably the best blessing of all.  Though crimes were committed in the early-1800’s, all traces of fear of such crimes melted away as I entered the museum.  As always, the yearning to truly step back in time and live exactly that way gripped me deep inside and stayed.  As always, when I reluctantly leave, I feel the familiar longing for such a peaceful life.  Yes, it was hard.  Yes, people worked much harder than they do now.  But it seems that life was better appreciated then and the simple pleasures sufficient unto the day…

I probably over-romanticize the time period.  Women did die frequently in child-bearing.  1 out of 6 babies never saw their first birthday.  Childhood diseases took the lives of many other children before they reached the age of 5.  Failed crops meant very lean winters and early springs–and sometimes even death by starvation.  But the nostalgia I feel is that of an almost pristine landscape, a landscape devoid of the pollution created by automobiles, airplanes, lawnmowers and other small engines.  Homes were also devoid of pollution: no aerosol sprays, no chemical/synthetic fabric softeners or deodorizers, no harsh cleaning chemicals, no dryer sheets, no synthetic beauty products or fabrics, no GMO’s, no harmful pesticides or fungicides.   These are the things I long for.  These, and quiet solitude.  And the ability of each individual to make of themselves whatever they would regardless of their background and without the supposed necessity of a college education; I’m not dissing the education as I am always taking classes in something but, there were opportunities then to be a self-made man (seldom did women get to have careers then outside of “teacher” or “nurse”).  Oftentimes, the farmers of old prospered without a “day” job or career other than “farmer” and, what little coin they possessed, was from the sale of excess produce or cheese, butter and eggs, or an extra piglet or two.  Bartering was a respectable means of paying for what you needed and could not grow or produce yourself.

People went to church in those days.  God was a central part of both family and community life.  He was part of everyone’s professional lives, too.  “Spare” time was spent with family pursuing quiet pastimes like games, reading, singing or picnicking after church on Sunday.  Nature was respected and enjoyed (though trees were wasted in abundance…).  Today, it is also enjoyed but exploited and abused for our own selfish gains as well.

I’m sure folks had worries in those days, same as today.  But a heavy mortgage wasn’t usually one of them.  If you didn’t have ready coin for farmland, out West there was land for the taking via squatters’ rights (one could claim 160 acres simply by slicing a blaze in a tree to mark the land intended, build a house, develop the land and, in 5 years’ time, if you had improved your claim by building on it and working it, the land was yours; most succeeded at this endeavor…).   Again, you could be your own person, self-made.  You could also go to university if you chose; Harvard, for example, was started in the 1600’s but you could get a job or earn a career even without the piece of paper proclaiming your expertise.  It was only those “specialized” careers such as politics and law that required a more formal education.  (Medicine, however,  was often taught through apprenticeship with a doctor rather than at university and practiced without the license; some things have improved in our modern times as such practices also produced a lot of quacks…even as today’s stricter licensing and cultivation of modern, chemical prescriptions have also produced a lot of quackery…)   Moreover, if your children wanted to go to college, oftentimes, the young person found a way to pay for it themselves; parents seldom saved for a college fund for their kids…and nobody thought less of them for it!  No electric bills, no water bills, no phone, Internet or cable/satellite bills, no rising gas prices…it truly was a simple life.

Someday I hope to incorporate what I learn as a volunteer into the modern-day homestead.  I am committed to learning everything I can and applying it to modern-day life.  I can’t go back.  But I can bring the lessons forward into the future, working towards a goal of self-sufficiency and sustainability.  I can teach by example and, even if only one seed gets planted, still, I can lessen the impact my living has had on this old planet earth of ours.  These are goals worth obtaining…and another dream come true.

     It’s a dream come true, the desire to live completely off-grid and independent of the electric power company.  Last week’s Tropical Storm Irene gave me just that…though not in the way I’d planned. 

     As I type this up, I have been back “on grid” since last Wednesday, losing power early Sunday morning and being without it for 3 whole days.   It’s been a busy week ever since trying to charge up the cell phone, get the laundry washed–as the local laundromat was without power even longer than I was–and replacing the food that was lost to the defrosted refrigerator.  This is another instance where people will continue to look at this from inside the modern lifestyle box and view electricity as a necessity.  Maybe for some.  But, when you get right down to basics, it’s not.  We’ve simply tailored our lifestyles around the convenience of electric power.  But there are always alternatives.  And Irene has made me more determined than ever to work towards a life completely independent of the power grid.

     The first and most dire consideration for me is water.  I live in an early-1900’s colonial that still uses a well and requires a well-pump to get water into the house.  For three days, I was unable to shower, flush or even fill a bowl of water for the dogs.  Fortunately, I had bottled water under the sink but that didn’t last very long with 17 chickens, 4 ducks, 3 rabbits, 2 dogs, 6 cats, 2 guinea pigs and a cockatiel all needing replenishments.  The ducks were beside themselves without their “kiddie” pool for 2 days (rain from the previous night had filled it for their use the first day but, after they’d played in it and backwashed feed into it all day on Monday, it had to be emptied Monday night; no ifs, ands or buts).  It has been proven that one can last up to 60 days without food.  Not so with water.  Water is essential.  So this is not something I can “do without” as I have forsaken other modern conveniences such as television or a microwave.  There are three alternatives that I can see.  The first is to be hooked up to town water.  Considering the amount of chlorine and, in the most modern municipalities, fluoride that goes into town water supplies, I think I’ll pass on that one.  One of my favorite catalogs, Lehman’s, has kits for hooking up a hand-pump on your well.  This isn’t a bad idea; you’d never have to worry about power outages at all, being able to draw enough water to drink and wash with manually.  Granted, it’s a bit more labor intensive but, if Laura Ingalls Wilder could do it, so can I.  That doesn’t solve the problem with flushing but today there are composting toilets and there’s always the outhouse (not something I would relish in the dead of winter but it’s a viable option…).  However, I can be modern and still not rely on the power grid.  At some point in my future, I hope to install either wind or solar power.  I use very little electricity; the well-pump would be my biggest concern, my biggest power usage and I doubt it would require an enormous system to operate. 

     Then there’s food preservation.  I lost food last week.  Everyone did.  We’ve become dependent on the electric refrigerator to keep our food cold and fresh.  As the garden grows and my canning skills improve, my reliance on the refrigerator should decrease to where I won’t require as big of a refrigerator for food storage, though there are always perishables.  It really wasn’t all that labor intensive to store essential perishables in a cooler with some ice but the ice becomes an added expense that would exceed my current electric bill if I had to replace a bag each day.  And then there are the plastic bags it comes in that would end up in the landfill.  Not exactly eco-friendly.  Some simple solutions present themselves: again, wind or solar power to negate being on the grid or a liquid propane refrigerator.  I have seen them in Lehman’s catalog and they would be more than worth the expense.  Of course, the propane would have to be replenished, too, but not everyday as would store-bought ice. 

     Had this storm and subsequent power outage hit us in winter, I would have fared better.  The food would likely have survived in the snow and I could’ve used the woodstove to cook and/or bake.  Another still-modern factor in my house is the electric range.  The house was outfitted with such when I moved in.  Without power, I couldn’t even boil water for tea.  Ideally, in addition to the woodstove, an outdoor cob oven and also a hearth, much like you see at picnic and campsites, would work to resolve this. 

     The cell phone is an issue.  And I’m finding it’s probably a bigger liability than a house phone.  I cancelled my house phone service a couple of years ago.  Cell phone bills, especially if you’re using the most basic plan, as I am, are lower.  Almost everyone I know is a long distance call.  My mother is in Missouri, my brother in Germany, I have family in Arizona, North Carolina, Texas, Mississippi and, mostly, in Rhode Island.  Though a short drive from home to the Connecticut/Rhode Island border, phone calls to RI get pricey.  Yes, phone lines get knocked out the same as electric lines in a storm.  But there were an equal number of cell phone towers unable to provide service after this storm.  I discovered after a trip to Verizon that car chargers were practically flying off the shelves last week. These are devices that plug into your car cigarette lighter and will charge your cell phone that way but, from what I’ve ascertained from everyone who has used them, they did not charge their phones completely.  Despite the convenience of having a line should you get “stuck” on the road somewhere, more than once I have considered going back to the house phone and getting rid of the cell phone altogether.  I will have to weigh the benefits versus the liabilities in regard.  After all, we got along just fine without cell phones up until the last decade or so; we can certainly survive without them today.

     As I write this, I am mindful of my own modern electrical reliance: the PC.  I use the Internet for business, for my website, for email, for my writing–this blog is a perfect example.  Internet service costs are even pricier than long distance bills.  I have searched for an alternative to this service.  Most libraries have PC’s with Internet hooked up to them but I’m not sure how reliable this would be for email submissions to an editor as I hope to use my writing as another source of home-based income.  The electricity needed to power the PC can be augmented using wind or solar power but the Internet has become a heavy yoke.  And, despite my own intentions to live as free and back-to-basics as I can, this may be one area I can’t do away with as the publishing world is driven by this modern technology. 

      But, where there’s a will, there’s a way.  And I’m sure I’ll find it eventually.  In the meantime, my goal is to find a solution for my water supply so that the next tropical storm or hurricane–due in before the end of this week–doesn’t leave us high and dry again…no pun intended.

     It’s funny how sometimes you meet someone and there is an instant rapport, something about that person that just speaks to the heart.  It was that way for me when I met Kate.  We met at Goodwin Forest while I was fulfilling part of my outreach committment for the UConn Master Gardener program.  Kate was volunteering her time as Goodwin is a personal favorite for her.  And she loves to garden!  She also has another incredible hobby, one that has inspired me to put to creative use any and all discarded items–whenever and wherever possible. 

     Kate recycles garbage into works of art.  Not just her own garbage; Kate makes frequent field trips to the local landfill.  She has a unique gift of being able to look at some discarded item and envisioning it as something else. 

     Our first day working together at Goodwin, president of Friends of Goodwin and fellow Master Gardener alumni, Lynn Warren, kept mentioning Kate’s special garden.  We were working on the new fairy walk, constructing fairy houses using all natural materials: pine cones & needles, fallen logs, stones, etc. and it was evident both Lynn and Kate have a love for the fairies.  I suddenly sensed some kindred spirits.  Building fairy houses along this new woodland path was the whole reason I signed up to do my outreach at Goodwin.  I have always had a love for the fairies and for years, I built antique dollhouse miniatures; building fairy houses was volunteer work that didn’t feel a bit like work at all.  Little did I know the treat I would be given later that same day.  After listening to my new friends’ banter back and forth, I became intrigued and finally asked about it.  Kate offered to show it to me.  When we were finished with our volunteer work for the day, the invitation was extended and I followed Kate home.

     Lynn wasn’t kidding.  Kate’s garden was like stepping into another world, a world full of peace, tranquility and, best of all, fun! 

     Unlike the outreach program, Kate’s fairy garden has some “unnatural” materials: colored glass bottles upended with multi-colored “globes” glued to their bottoms (the globes were a bargain find at The Christmas Tree Shop); rusted out pieces to an old tractor became a metal flamingo and an enormous tractor rim became the entrance to the fairy realm. 

     As Kate showed me her whimsical world, she explained that she built her fairy trail while teaching third grade.  Later, she invited her students to a party where they had to complete a quest and navigate through fairyland.  It was a child’s fantasy come to life–even for those children age 44 or so–with each display revealing something new and enchanting.  I could just imagine the joy on the faces of those lucky students who got to participate in this quest.  What I loved most about it was Kate’s warm and welcoming personality.  She has such an incredible sense of fun and adventure, such a clever imagination, that you can’t help but rediscover the little kid in yourself.  No doubt her students fell under her spell as well.  I’m sure she made the whole experience something they will never forget.

      This big kid won’t forget it either…even if I didn’t participate in the party.  Kate has truly inspired me.  Suddenly, the broken pitchfork becomes an arbor for the fairies; some logs stacked on end become the foundation for a fairy castle; an old mirror imbedded in some mulch, a fairy lake. 

     And as I type this essay, another idea comes to me.  For so many years now my writing has stayed on the shelf, all but lost to writer’s block.  Since being invited to play both at Goodwin and Kate’s magickal menagerie, I’m writing again.  Could it be my own quest through fairyland has broken the spell?  Or the blessing from a truly gifted teacher, one whose students were truly blessed to learn so much about the value of using one’s imagination.  We need more Kates in the world.

No, I’m not planning to plaguerize another author’s work.  I’m planning to extol the virtues of it and, perhaps, even critique it a bit…

The Tightwad Gazette was published quarterly from 1991 thru 1996 by author Amy Dacyczyn.  I never read it in the ’90’s when it was in its heyday.  I saw a book version of it in The Countryside & Small Stock Journal bookstore-all 6 years condensed in a soft-bound book thicker than the Brooklyn, CT phonebook–and ordered a copy of it.  I love it!  It is making such a profound change in the way I view money, spending and thrift that I thank God daily for bringing it into my life.

In many ways, The Tightwad Gazette reminds me of my maternal grandmother.  She and my grandfather raised 11 children on just his salary.  My grandfather drove tractor trailer across country and was a police officer with the Warwick Police Reserves in Rhode Island for 40 years.  My grandmother was a stay-at-home mother from the 1940’s through the early 1970’s when the youngest children reached their teen years.  My grandmother saved and reused everything.  I remember rows of sandwich bags drying in the dish strainer; one cupboard dedicated to washed and saved margarine/cool whip/sour cream tubs; pieces of aluminum foil washed and draped over the side of the dish strainer to dry; bread wrappers used in place of sandwich bags for storage.  She also used a pressure cooker; darned socks; mended clothing; saved kids clothing for the next generation–her own or, later, grandchildren who came along while her youngest were barely out of diapers (my youngest uncle would have been 49 years old this November; I will be 45; I have two cousins older than me at age 46 and another turning 45 in June, 6 months before my birthday in November).  As an adult, I have sporadically used many of these same money-saving practices.

I say “sporadically” because I have often struggled with something that Amy discusses in her newsletter: such frugal practices equate poverty and shame.

My mother is the fourth eldest in her family.  She, too, incorporated frugality into her daily life.  It never bothered me as a young child because I didn’t know any better.  But, as I grew older and into my teens, frugality became a source of pain from the ridicule of my classmates.  Of course, despite Mom’s frugality, we were always in tight financial straits.  My step-father’s work paving driveways and parking lots was seasonal; he was also accident-prone.  And he was the type often lauded in The Tightwad Gazette who spent–and overspent–during the working season instead of scrimping and saving for leaner times.  He also liked to drink.  Mom often had to rely on government assistance to make ends meet because the money simply wasn’t there.  Eventually, Mom would re-enter the workforce and become the family breadwinner but, my high school years were probably the worst.  I had hand-me-down T-shirts from my youngest aunts.  They were in good shape but the names “Debbie” and “Cheryl” were ironed onto the back of them; removing it didn’t work because the fabric underneath the iron-ons hadn’t faded at the same rate as the rest of the shirt so everyone knew they were hand-me-downs and the teasing began.  One year I had to wear a pair of my step-father’s sneakers, 2 sizes too big with newspaper stuffed in the toe.  Often, because I was so tall, my pants and sleeves were high-watered.  I went to school with a young man who worked at the local convenience store who thought it was high-hilarity to spread it about one day that I paid for purchases there with food stamps (back in the early-80’s it was not necessary to have an ID for food stamps…).  I think that had the biggest effect on me.  That’s when I began to feel ashamed that we lived so frugally, when I really began to feel “poor”.

And, in many ways, we were.  Though Mom stretched and saved as much as she could, there were lean times where dinner would be a couple of slices of toast with white (or pan) gravy drizzled over the top.  White flour products are never the most healthy; I’m sure we sheared a few years off of our lives with this “diet” but it was all we had.  We used powdered milk and instant potatoes–both food “staples” that Amy Dacyczyn applauds in her newsletter; my first and only real criticism of her suggestions as both are extremely unhealthy choices in that the process required to dry milk or potatoes seriously denatures the food (i.e. strips it of any nutritional value and may even increase risk of cancer from eating them; obviously, this is one Tightwad practice I am not planning to incorporate…).  Our pets often went without food for a few days because we simply couldn’t afford to buy more.  And we always had lots of litters of puppies and kittens because spaying and neutering also couldn’t be afforded.  We were lucky because our apartment had a fireplace and there was a chimney in another room with a “hole” for hooking up a woodstove.  (This was a “row” house in the inner-city…).  And we were fortunate in having a neighbor who allowed us to store wood in his garage as he wasn’t using the space.  But things were still tight–too tight.

I learned good frugal practices and, in the case of spending when there was abundance, bad money practices.  And I see how they’ve manifested in my adult life.  Because we spent more when my step-father had work, I grew to associate certain things with poverty and certain things with wealth.  Orange juice was a wealthy beverage because, when Steve was without work for the season, orange juice was passed over at the market for orange-flavored Kool-aid or Tang.  When I first moved out on my own, I always kept a carton of orange juice in the fridge because it was a symbol that I was doing well.  Silly, I know, but that’s the way I viewed it.  I would save margarine bowls then, in a fit of rage, toss them all because I wasn’t that poor that “I couldn’t go out and buy “real” storage containers”.

Reading The Tightwad Gazette has brought about a radical transformation in this.  In many ways, reading it has been healing, forcing me to confront issues in my childhood and teen years that I have always shied away from.  Suddenly, I’m viewing frugality as fun rather than drudgery or something shameful.  I’m proud of what I’ve learned and re-learned from The Tightwad Gazette, proud of how successfully I’ve incorporated so many of its teachings in my life.  I’m also proud that it was my mother and both grandmothers who taught me many of these strategies.  Although my paternal grandmother’s life was a little easier financially, she always kept a larder well-stocked with canned and dry goods, baked from scratch, darned socks to make them last longer, washed many of my grandfather’s shirts by hand on an old scrub board and line-dried most of her clothes–my guess is these were simply practices she grew up with in the early-1900’s but also necessities learned and re-learned during the Great Depression.

I’m learning to place a real value on what I earn and to really stop and think about a purchase before I make it.  Do I fall “off the wagon” once in awhile?  Of course.  But I am definitely making a difference.  And, the nice thing about it is that it’s also a more eco-friendly way to live.  For every baggie or piece of aluminum foil I wash and save, that’s one less that winds up in the landfill.  Every time I go to dispose of something, I stop and think, “Can I use this for something else?”.  This also saves money as Brooklyn, CT charges $2.00 per bag for their seafoam green trash bags and you cannot use any other bag at the landfill (I shudder to think what it costs to have actual trash pick-up service…).  I have very little to deposit at the landfill these days.  And, in keeping with my homesteading beliefs, I am going to quote author John Seymour from “The Self-Sufficient Life and How to Live it”: the garbage man should never have to call (Seymour, 2009).  That’s become my motto…and my mission.  And I purpose it all to God.

I did say in a previous post that one of my resolutions for this year was to spend some time each day writing.  I confess, though I’ve been fairly busy with other endeavors, I have not been writing–not even in my journal, which is usually a regular thing.  And I say “fairly busy” because, though I usually have a project or two in the works, few of my endeavors has been so time-consuming that I could not simply sit and create.  So, before I digress with self-recriminations, let me apologize and then forgive myself for my lax; sometimes I’m simply my own worst enemy…

It has been a brutal winter this year in the Northeast with over 3 feet of snow and sub-zero temperatures.  It was so cold–despite the well-built hutches and henhouse–there was one evening in particular all 4 rabbits, 4 ducks and 6 chickens “bunked” in the house with me, the 6 cats, 2 St. Bernards, 2 guinea pigs and 2 birds!  I made a temporary corral for them in the “spare” room and they stayed for 2 nights, the ducks and chickens going back out to the coop on the second morning.  The 3 rabbits (I lost my “geriatric” rabbit, Cindy, in February…) are still “rooming” upstairs in the family room while I attempt to erect stalls for the soon-t0-be goats and sheep; the shed is plenty big enough for 3-4 each.  As soon as the stalls are erected, the bunnies may return to their much-roomier hutches–and possibly new roommates.  Not only goats and sheep but more Angora bunnies either through a breeder at the Connecticut Sheep and Wool Festival or Brooklyn Farm and Pet, a new business that has sprung up within walking distance from here, and has been both a saving grace in providing good quality feed and hay for all my critters, for a fraction of the cost I was paying elsewhere, and also being a bit of the bane of my existence in that they also showcase ducklings, chicks of various breeds (including my Silkies that I’m debating adding to the flock…), rabbits, chinchillas, degus, guinea pigs, rats, mice, gerbils, hamsters, ferrets, iguanas and other not-so-appealing-to-me reptilian creatures and a wide array of birds and fish–also at reasonable prices.  In short, the only thing keeping me from going bankrupt is the daily reminder that Unemployment Insurance doesn’t last forever and the pet and farm sitting business has been starts and stops getting off the ground!  This could well become a small petting zoo should their “influence” persist.

I lost my bees this winter.  The empty hive is a bittersweet reminder of warm, summer days just sitting off to the side of the hive, watching my girls flying in and out with their little legs loaded with pollen.  Before the big snowfall that gave us the biggest accumulation of white stuff, I added a second quart jar of sugar water to the hive so my girls would have enough to eat.  But it still wasn’t enough.  By the time the temps rose enough so that opening the hive again wasn’t such a hazard, the jars were empty, the frames were empty–except for a few at the outer edges–and there was a pile of dead bees in the bottom of the hive.  I have ordered more but the loss saddens me.  It is a learning curve, to be sure, but the cost of so many lives is a painful lesson.  My bees were an unexpected joy.  They are fascinating creatures and it was a wonderful experience to have a few gently walking over your hand in greeting and then simply flying away again.

But before anyone thinks it’s been all hardship, worry and sadness, since January I have been participating in the University of Connecticut’s Master Gardener Program.  Talk about re-enforcing everything that I’ve been learning independently through Path to Freedom, Countryside Magazine and others about growing fruits and vegetables!  I was worried that the class might be more of a re-enforcement of more mainstream gardening practices like Miracle Gro, chemical pesticides and rototilling but it’s been just the opposite with these mainstream practices being considered a last resort after all other attempts have been exhausted.  Suddenly, I am surrounded by people who share many of my passions for gardening, canning and preserving, composting and other homesteading endeavors.  Sure, there are others who are also more mainstream but, overall, I’m no longer a minority and that’s been worth the long chapters and endless piles of flashcards I’ve been making to test myself about what I’m learning.  Some of the best parts have been the chapters on Soils, Tree Fruits, Small Fruits, IPM (Integrated Pest Management) and, believe it or not, Entymology.  While I’m sure I won’t be able to ID every insect that creeps through my garden and distinguish whether it is friend or foe, I am fairly confident that I can accomplish this with the majority.  And, if not, I have a wonderful resource in the 3″ thick 3 ring binder that is mine to keep.  The irony is that my garden plan this year is much more humble than last year’s and I didn’t even start any seedlings; I’m planning to direct sow instead as the homework was pretty intense and there just didn’t seem to be enough hours in the day to get any seeds started!

Another bonus to taking this class is the now-familiar extension center right here in Brooklyn–also within walking distance.  Through them I have accessed so much information and it’s a wonderful resource for any farmer, homesteader or even small container gardener.  Oh, and I’m supposed to remind everyone to “get a soil test” and make sure they “read the label as the label is the law” if they do decide to go the chemical fertilizer route…”

I took the UConn Sheep Shearing Clinic last week.  I got the information from the extension center and traveled to Storrs, CT where the clinic is held.  I confess, my proclivity to all creatures great and small has me puzzled as to the sanity of allowing newbie sheep shearers to practice on live animals.  I guess there’s no way to simulate this endeavor otherwise and, either it’s cost-prohibitive or else sheep don’t respond well to tranquilizers (it does seem it would be easier–and safer–to shear them if they were unable to kick so much…)–or both–so we worked with nervous first-timers and even more nervous sheep but, luckily, only a few significant “nicks” were inflicted and none of them were life-threatening.  I was the last to get a sheep.  I’m thinking it might’ve been better if I’d volunteered to be one of the first as I had the misfortune of seeing some of the injuries before my turn was up.  Again, they were minor but the poor sheep had my sympathies.  It’s a relatively easy process but the sheep are also contorted into what I can only describe as sheep-yoga positions to keep wrinkled skin smoothed out and avoid injuring those really delicate areas like leg creases and udders.  But, having never worked with sheep, and not having even a flock of my own yet, I wanted to watch a few shearings before I attempted it myself.  When I did, I made what my instructor, Bill, said was a common mistake.  In my fear of injuring the poor creature, I didn’t get the shears close enough to the skin and so, left about 1/2 inch of wool behind, having to make a second pass in some areas.  However, once I found that layer of lanolin and assured myself the skin was taut, the wool cut like warm butter; I was quite proud of myself in the end: not one nick even with a few double passes.   I am hoping, besides shearing my own animals when I get them, to add this service to my pet and farm sitting business.

I’ve also been learning horse grooming from my friend, Nury, learning and practicing on her equestrian friends until I’m good enough at it to offer this service, too.  It’s much easier than shearing sheep…even with some over-enamored tom turkeys following me about the barnyard!

In closing, I have to say it’s good to be back at the keyboard again.  And I wonder why I’ve been neglecting this part of my life; it, too, may prove a lucrative business in freelancing.  Another investment has been this year’s “Writer’s Market”; I’m hoping some of my blogs will be good enough to catch the attention of an editor or two…that should be reason enough to keep writing, keep motivated.

As an herbalist, I have an unusual garden–it’s full of “weeds” (smile)!   In one of my earlier posts, I talked about that common beauty “The Dandelion” and it’s many medicinal and nutritional properties.  This time it is Plantain.

Plantain, like the dandelion, is usually found growing on lawns, throughout pastureland and in waste places.  It is considered by many a “crab grass” and, again, like the dandelion, is subjected to various chemicals or, at the very least, rude uprootings as Americans strive for that perfectly-manicured lawn.

Though there are many species of Plantain, there are two that are the most common.  The first is Plantago major (or broad-leafed plantain) and the second is Plantago lanceolata (or narrow-leafed plantain).  For medicinal purposes, it is Plantago major that seems to be preferred with most herbalists, though the two are interchangeable with one variety seeming to work just as well as the other.   The name “plantain” is derived from the Latin root “planta-” meaning foot, owing to the flat growth of broad leaves over the ground.  Plantago major has oval-shaped leaves; Plantago lanceolata has “lance”-shaped leaves, hence, its Latin name.  In both varieties the leaves are ribbed and the plants produce unusual flowering spikes of greenish-brown hue.  Plantain comes from the family Plantaginaceae and is also known as Englishman’s Foot, Ribwort, Greater Plantain, Cuckoo’s Bread, The Leaf of Patrick, Patrick’s Dock, Ripple Grass, St. Patrick’s Leaf, Slanlus, Snakebite, Snakeweed, Waybread, Waybroad, Wey Broaed (Anglo-Saxon) and White Man’s Foot.

However you call it, goats and sheep enjoy the foliage and poultry will seek out its seeds.  Plantain is an excellent fodder.  And, when combined with Comfrey, Plantain will soothe urine scalding–especially in rabbits.  I raise Angoras and, as I learned early on after “inheriting” my first Angora, if their backsides are not kept closely-trimmed, their fur will become saturated and matted, eventually chafing them.  If left untreated, the skin will become raw and inflamed.  It is similar to diaper rash and very painful.  Though I have since learned to keep my rabbits well-trimmed, I always keep some “bunny salve” on hand.

I have found Plantain to be an important herb not only for animals but also for human skin.  Plantain contains a soothing mucilage somewhat similar to linseed and makes a powerful healing ointment, though it can also be used as a poultice.  The leaves are macerated and then applied directly to the skin.  This seemingly miraculous poultice has been known to stop the pain of both spider and snake bites, bee stings and other insect wounds, drawing out their stingers and poisons.  It has been known to draw out infection, toxins and other embedded foreign bodies such as splinters and slivers.  In her book “Healing with the Herbs of Life”, herbalist Lesley Tierra states that she knew of one man who used plantain poultices for 5 days straight to successfully draw out slivers of metal that had been embedded in his hand (L.Tierra, 2003).  Plantain’s astringent properties may be used to heal wounds, burns, scrapes and cuts, to stop bleeding, and when combined with St. John’s Wort, Calendula and Comfrey, has been known to prevent scarring, to prevent and/or treat sunburn, to heal even diaper rash and the burning itch of psoriasis (though this combination does not eradicate the psoriasis rash).  Plantain’s soothing effect is usually felt within minutes after applying to the skin.  (It should also be noted here that although an ointment made for diaper rash contains both Plantain and Comfrey, the same ingredients as recommended for urine scalding for rabbits, both St. John’s Wort and Calendula have been found to be poisonous to rabbits; I would not recommend their use in a salve made for rabbits)

In addition to its healing properties for the skin, Plantain has also been used as a diuretic, an alterative (blood purifier), an anti-inflammatory and an aperient (herbs that promote bowel evacuation).  It has been successfully used to treat dysentery, hemorrhages, internal obstructions, ulcers, urinary tract infections, hepatitis and eye disorders in dogs.  Primarily the leaves and seeds are used but the root of Plantain has also been used successfully for the treatment of fevers.  Dosage is a standard infusion of 1 cup given 3X a day.

However, a word of caution here, the FDA has not evaluated these statements and, though I have a lot of faith in herbal medicine–more so than in most allopathic practices–the contents of this blog are not intended to diagnose, treat, cure or prevent any diseases and should not replace any treatment with your primary care physician.

Plantain may be used in a douche for both cleansing and the treatment of vaginal yeast infections.  It should be prepared as a strong tea in combination with any of the following herbs: goldenseal, uva ursi, comfrey, white oak bark or yellow dock, and a small amount of either white vinegar or plain yogurt to promote acid balance.  Another note of caution: frequent or repeated infections are usually symptoms of poor diet and/or general lowered resistance of the body.  The frequent use of douches is not recommended as they upset the balance of natural bacteria in the vagina.

There is a third variety of Plantain called Plantago asiatica or Chinese Plantain.  It also goes by the name Che Qian Cao.  It is used in Traditional Chinese Medicine to “drain dampness” and, in addition to the indications given above, this variety has been used for the treatment of diarrhea and excessive menstrual discharge, furuncle, carbuncle, jaundice, gonorrhea, leukorrhea, coughs with profuse phlegm, edema, vertigo and red, swollen eyes (L.Tierra, 2003).

I suppose it may seem strange to some the keeping of so many “weeds” in my garden but, in light of their many gifts, I think my “weedy” garden is the most beautiful in the neighborhood…

Works Cited

Tierra, Lesley. Healing with the Herbs of Life. Crossing Press, 2003.

It was over a year after I attended the Rhode Island Beekeepers’ Association’s “Bee School” before I was able to get my first hive and 3 lbs. of bees.  Of course, I live in Connecticut (RI native and, at the time, working a corporate job in RI), so I was not eligible for a mentor from the RI Beekeepers’ Association and I opted to simply “wing it” (no pun intended) for my first hive instead of contacting the Connecticut Beekeepers’ Association for a mentor.  This was probably not the best choice.  However, I was confident (or maybe over-confident…) that I knew what I was doing.

I ordered my hive equipment and, a couple of weeks later, I ordered my first queen.  In the weeks preceding delivery of both, I spent time pouring over my notes from Bee School and reading books on beekeeping.  The equipment arrived first and I spent a few days painting all of the supers, the base, the bottom board, etc., with a good outdoor primer.

When the call came from the RIBA that the bees had arrived, I was ecstatic.  The pick-up point was only a short drive from a second part-time job that I was working and it was located behind my old junior high school so I knew the neighborhood fairly well.  The property I went to was situated at the end of a dead end street in the middle of suburbia.  The property, itself, once you crossed the opening to the driveway looked completely incongruous in this setting as it was wild with undergrowth and looked more like the setting of a country abode.  A man named Roger greeted me at the door.  I had to wait a few minutes while he finished with a phone call but then he led me outside to a large garage.  As we approached the dwelling, an almost ominous hum was echoing out of the open double doors.  It was almost deafening due to the multitude of bees contained within it.  There were several rows with stacks of little cages measuring approximately a foot long, about 6 inches wide and maybe 8 inches tall each (roughly, the size and shape of a shoebox).  I can’t even tell you how many cages were in a row because the rows extended back quite some distance.  The cages themselves were made out of a heavy-duty window screening set in plywood frames.  In the center of each was a dark funnel of bees.  I was told that in the middle of this cluster was the queen in her little cylinder and a can of sugar syrup.  Roger placed a cage in my hands and asked if I wanted to purchase some of his protein patties if I hadn’t made any of my own.  I hadn’t and the price was fair so I did.  I thanked Roger, gently brushed aside some lone workers who were attached to the outside of my cage, and set the cage on the floor of my car on the front passenger’s side.  I thanked Roger, again, and headed home.

My first “mishap” occurred at the very first traffic light.  I slowed to a stop and the cage tipped over with a loud thud.  The gentle hum became a very angry buzz…and I had to drive a good 45 minutes home like this!  Needless to say, I had promised my Aunt Cheryl that I would try to stop by for a little while so the trip home was taken in stages.  And I found a way to prop up the cage so that it wouldn’t fall over again in transit.

A couple of hours later, I got back in the car.  Night had fallen and all was quiet in the cage.  I could see some movement in the moonlight but, as I started to pull away from the curb, I kept hearing this occasional “peep”.  At first I couldn’t figure out where it was coming from.  Then I realized the bees were making this noise.  It was the cutest thing!  It sounded like a little snore.  (Maybe it was…)  I drove home to this “snore”, grinning like an idiot, content in having my first bees.

It rained the next couple of days.  I kept checking on the bees in their cage as I had left them in my garage-turned-workshop the night I brought them home.  Finally, the rain stopped and I gathered together all of my notes and beekeeping books, pages earmarked for important information.  I had made more sugar syrup and put it into a spray bottle per the instructions in my manual.  Then I took the cage of bees out to the ready and waiting hive.

The somewhat angry buzzing from the cage should’ve been a warning.  With the end of the rain had come some rather unseasonably warm temperatures and the garage-turned-workshop had been a little stuffy.  I attributed this to the bees agitation and rightly so.  However, I probably should’ve waited until morning when the temps were a bit cooler to introduce them to the hive.

Once outside I read and re-read everything that I had earmarked for the occasion.  According to the instructions in the manual, I was supposed to gently spray the bees with sugar water and then, also gently, tap the box on a flat surface to get the worker bees to drop away from the queen to the floor of the cage.  I then had to give them another spray of sugar syrup to keep them on the bottom for a minute or two.  This would allow me time to pry open the flat piece of plywood holding the sugar syrup and remove it.  Once the sugar syrup was removed I could also remove the queen’s cylinder and quickly replace the plywood, keeping the worker bees, momentarily, in the cage.  I was to pull the tab off the end of the queen’s cylinder (The queen is kept in a separate cylinder so that the workers have time to get used to her scent.  In case there is any hostility towards her, the cylinder will protect her), poke a pinhole into the piece of candy stuck at the end, and place the opened cylinder into the bottom of the hive.  Then I could take my cage, pull up the plywood again and tip the cage upside down over the hive.  What happens next is that the workers all migrate down to where the queen is and start eating the candy keeping her imprisoned.  By the time they have eaten it, it is hoped that the workers will have accepted her as their queen and release her to start laying eggs.  Otherwise, if they reject her (i.e. kill her), a new queen may have to be ordered.

So, I read the manual one more time, took a deep breath and sprayed the bees with sugar syrup.  I tapped the hive and heard an angry community “buzz”.  But the bees did drop to the bottom of the cage.  I sprayed them again and stuck my hive tool under the plywood and pulled out both the can of sugar syrup and the queen’s cylinder in one shot.

A word of caution here, folks: Bees do NOT read manuals!

Instead of staying obediently at the bottom of the travel cage, approximately 600 worker bees came flying up and out of the opened cage.  It was a giant swarm all headed straight for my face!  This is the lady who admitted in a previous article that I used to be so afraid of bees I’d pull over to escape sharing my car with a lonely little yellow jacket.  According to Bee School, honeybees were supposed to be docile.  But these gals seemed not to have read this piece of Banbury tale either!

So, here I am, in the middle of my yard, in the middle of a circle of angry honeybees.  It was the first and only time that I totally outfitted myself in protective bee clothing.  And, the reason I say the “only time” is because a couple of those little ladies managed to get up and under the veil—and couldn’t find the way back out.  I’m trying very hard to remain calm but, when you have angry bees buzzing and flying about your face, calm tends to desert you.  That hat and veil—and half of my clothing, too—were whipped off faster than you could bat an eyelash.  I’d take my chances without it!  To make matters worse, in my attempt to escape the angry mob of bees, I never got to pull open the cylinder and pierce the piece of candy in it and I had dropped said cylinder into the hive.  Half of the bees that weren’t flying around me had dropped into the hive and the queen was buried beneath a swarm of them.  If I were going to open that cylinder, I would have to stick my hand down into that cluster of bees and pick the cylinder back up again.  It was then that I seriously reconsidered whether beekeeping was something I really wanted to get into.

Before anyone asks why I didn’t use the smoker, the manual said I would not need it for this adventure.  The sugar syrup would keep them docile.  Needless to say, I ran inside and lit the smoker.

The smoke worked much better.  I managed to brave a trip with my hand down into the hive and pull out the queen.  I got the tab pulled off but there were simply too many bees trying to get to her to allow me to stick a pin into the candy (the purpose of this is to release more of her pheromone) so I placed the cylinder back into the hive.  And the workers followed.  I placed a new can of sugar syrup upside down atop the inner cover, put a super over it and placed the roof on the hive.

What few bees were still flying about started to migrate into the hive via the hive entrance.  Despite having many of the bees still flying around me, I decided to stay and watch them as they marched inside.  It is an amazing sight!  And, even more amazing, despite how angry they seemed to be and all the chaos that followed when I opened the travel cage, I never got stung.  And, as I sat quietly by the entrance, watching them find their way inside to the queen, they seemed to accept me, too, and, instead, a few of them gently landed on my sleeve or a hand then flew off again.  Two weeks later, despite not having pierced the candy, the workers had eaten the candy and the queen was released.  She spent the summer laying eggs while her workers made honey.

It is the end of the season and I have just finished readying the hive for winter.  This time I did get stung once for invading the hive as it was a chilly day but, mostly, they simply checked me out again.  I still get a little nervous if a huge amount of bees all come flying at me at once but over the summer, I have spent many hours pausing in the middle of yard or garden work to watch my little friends gathering pollen.  It is a very peaceful thing watching them work.  The amount of pollen attached to their tiny legs seems miraculous that they can even fly with such a load and they never stop.  Their little bodies are always in motion—hence, the expression “busy as a bee”.

I hope my little friends over winter well; I will be looking forward to seeing them at work again in the spring.

“And the Spirit of the Lord shall rest upon him, the Spirit of wisdom, understanding, counsel and might; the Spirit of knowledge and of the fear of the Lord” (Isaiah 11:2)

It is the scourge of every landscaper, of every grumpy old man hoping to obtain that perfectly manicured lawn without the broken contrast of colorful, yellow blossoms. “This notable “weed” is often needed most by those who love to pull it–fiery, excitable and, often, angry folks–because it clears what in Traditional Chinese Medicine is regarded as Liver Heat, a congestion that causes this energy” (M. Tierra, The Way of Herbs, 1998).

I am talking about Taraxacum officinale…The Dandelion.  In Chinese medicine it is called Pu Gong Ying. In Ayurveda–or East Indian medicine–the Sanskrit word for dandelion is Atirasa. Other common names for this little “weed” have been Blow Ball, Cankerwort, Lion’s Tooth and Wild Endive so, perhaps, instead of lamenting the “dandelions” in your lawn, you can rejoice in your abundant crop of Lion’s Tooth?

The dandelion comes from the family: Compositae.

All parts of this plant are used medicinally and also, nutritionally.  Both the leaves and the roots have a cooling energy.  The leaves have a bitter flavor, the roots both sweet and bitter.

As a medicine, the healing properties of this little plant are as an alterative–or blood purifier, and as a chologogue, which means it aids digestion by discharging bile into the small intestine to relieve excess stomach acids.  It is a diuretic, an aperient–or laxative, a galactogogue, which means it promotes the flow of breast milk for lactating mothers, and it can be used as a tonic to promote the functioning of all systems in the body.

The main benefits of this plant are exerted upon the function of the liver.  It has the capacity to clear obstructions, to stimulate and aid the liver in eliminating toxins in the blood.  In this way, it is used as a blood purifier.  This is also due to its high mineral content.

The root can be used to also clear obstructions of the spleen, pancreas, gallbladder and kidneys.  It is of tremendous benefit to both the stomach and intestines. For stomach aches, dandelion root tea can be safely taken in doses of 1/2 cup every 1/2 hour until the stomachache is relieved.

For hepatitis, dandelion root tea may be taken in cupful doses 4-6 times daily with a light, easily-digested diet of vegetable soup broth, and rice and mung bean porridge.  Even the most serious cases of hepatitis have been rapidly cured using this treatment, sometimes within a week (Tierra, 1998).

Renowned herbalist and author of several books on herbal medicine–including “The Way of Herbs”, Michael Tierra, considers the root specific for hypoglycemia when it is combined with other tonic herbs such as ginseng and ginger.  And he states it can also be used to remedy the recent onset of diabetes when combined with huckleberry leaf in a tea.

Dandelion has been known to decrease high blood pressure, aid in the healing or curing of anemia; dropsy; PMS; urinary complaints; inward ulcers of the urinary passage; atonic dyspepcia; rheumatism; red, swollen and painful eyes; firm, hard abscesses; sores; breast abscesses; tumors; cysts; mastitis; gout; arthritis, and skin conditions such as rashes caused by measles, chicken pox, eczema, poison ivy and poison oak.  It relieves painful urination, promotes lactation, aids indigestion, Irritable Bowel Syndrome, jaundice, cirrhosis, constipation, urinary, bladder and kidney infections, in the treatment of both gall and kidney stones, scurvy and scrofula.

In Chinese medicine, its cooling properties are used to treat painful swellings, infections, inflammations, boils, abscesses, dental cavities, swollen eyes and throats, sore throats, fever and mumps.  It has a special affect on the breasts and is used as a breast cancer preventative.  Chinese medicine uses it to reduce tumors and cysts, mastitis and swollen lymph nodes.

Traditionally, Native Americans used the dandelion to treat snake bites.

Ayurveda–East Indian–practitioners use it for dysentary, fevers, vomiting and as an anti-poison.

Dandelion leaf tea is one of the finest diuretics known, equal to any known drug remedy.  It can be taken for fluid retention–i.e. edema, cystitis, nephritis and even as an aid in weight loss.

However, a word of caution here, the FDA has not evaluated these statements and, though I have a lot of faith in herbal medicine–more so than in most allopathic practices, the contents of this blog are not intended to diagnose, treat, cure or prevent any diseases and should not replace any treatment with your primary care physician.

That being said, nutritionally, dandelion root can be cut and dried, and combined with roasted acorns and roasted rye to make a fine alternative to coffee–without the harmful caffeine!

You harvest the leaves in spring before the flower heads bloom.  They can be eaten raw as a salad or steamed with other beneficial greens such as chicory and endive to help combat the onset of spring colds and flu.  Albeit, another word of caution, both dandelion and chicory can be quite bitter to some palates and might be better tolerated mixed with something like spinach or Swiss chard.

Dandelions are rich in natural protein, iron, calcium, phosphorus, inulin, potassium, vitamins C, G, all the B vitamins–especially B12 and contains more beta carotene than carrots.  They are also high in vitamin A, having 7000 units as opposed to the 1275 units contained in carrots.

I feed dandelion greens on an almost daily basis to my rabbits.  They are beloved by my ducks and chickens, guinea pigs, birds, dogs and, to a lesser degree, even my cats will sometimes nibble on a leaf or two.  They provide many of the same benefits to the liver and kidneys in animals as they do for humans.  In the documentary, “Juliette of the Herbs”, an autobiography of the life of revered herbalist, Juliette de Bairacli Levy, there is an interview with a breeder of Newfoundlands who tells of how feeding one of her prized Newfoundlands dandelion greens saved her dog’s life.  This was an animal who had been given only a short time to live due to kidney failure.  The owner had read one of Juliette’s books where it recommended a fast and then a diet of dandelion greens.  She didn’t think the dog would even try them; instead, she “licked the bowl clean” (Streeten, 1998).

Of course, the Christian witch in me had to look up the magickal properties of this little wonder.  I found, in my research, that dandelions were used by Early Americans to counteract impotence Hutchins, 1992).  Interestingly, the high vitamin A content in the dandelion is essential in the production of both male and female sex hormones so, perhaps, there’s something to this old wives’ tale…

Blow on a dried dandelion’s head (hence, the folk name “Blow Ball”…) and your wish will come true if you blow all of the seeds off in one breath.  This is said to be particularly effective as a love letter as dandelions provide a sort of magickal messenger service.  Allegedly, the seeds will carry loving messages and wishes to the one you love.  Focus hard on your hearts’ desire and blow…

Dandelion is, if you combine “white” witchcraft with astrology, a Jupiter plant.  Jupiter rules prosperity and money, health and good luck.  When picking dandelions on a Thursday–said to be a Jupiter day–in the moonlight, you will attract wealth and prosperity into your life.

Lastly, dandelions are said to be effective in summoning spirits.  I do not necessarily advocate this practice for myself but, for educational purposes, I am including the directions I found in a book I have on the subject:

1.  Place a cup of hot, steaming dandelion tea beside your bed just before you go to sleep.

2.  Watch the steam waft upwards as you call upon your desired spirits.

3.  When it cools, have a sip, turn off the lights and go to sleep.

4.  Take another sip of cold tea when you awaken and you may stimulate enhanced dream recall…(Dugan, 2003)

With all of this said, I believe every garden should have at least a small patch of Taraxacum officinale…

Works Cited

Dugan, Ellen. Garden Witchery: Magick from the Ground Up. Llewellyn Publications, 2003.

Hutchins, Alma R. A Handbook of Native American Herbs: A Guide to 125 Medicinal Plants and their Uses. Shambhala, 1992.

Streeten, Tish. Juliette of the Herbs. Mobinogian Films, 1998.

Tierra, Michael. The Way of Herbs. Pocket Books, 1998.

Twenty years ago, if anyone had ever told me I would become a beekeeper, I would’ve told them they were crazy.  This is the woman who would pull the car over, crossing 3 lanes of traffic, to escape one lone bee who had found his or her way into my vehicle–nevermind playing with a whole hive full of them!  Granted, the lone bee in the car was likely the more aggressive yellow jacket or wasp rather than a tame honeybee but, while I could admire the beekeeper, I didn’t aspire to bee one (lol!).  Somehow, He has had other plans for me…

My first stirring interest in beekeeping came about when I read “Wild Swan” by Celeste DeBlasis.  Both the lead character of the book, Alexandria Carrington Falconer, and her grandmother, Virginia Thaine, are beekeepers and I was enchanted by their “telling the bees” of any family events.  Apparently, the tradition is that if you want to keep your bees from deserting the hive, you have to keep them up-to-date on the most important of family events: births, deaths, marriages and leave-takings.  You have to knock on the hive then turn it 3 times and tell them the news.  Since reading this story (more times than I can count!), my interest piqueing with each re-read, I have also come across other pieces of literature with beekeepers as part of the cast.  But I didn’t seriously start pursuing it until 2007.

In 2007 I took Apollo Herbs (N.Kingstown, RI) herbal apprentice workshop with Michael Ford and Joanne Pacheco.  The workshop met one weekend each month from April until December.  It was the best and most absorbing class I have ever taken and, one of the fringe benefits was that, Joanne had just completed the Rhode Island Beekeepers’ Association’s “Bee School”.  Her family rented or leased some of their land to another beekeeper and one weekend this gentleman gave a lecture and demonstration on beekeeping with Joanne as his apprentice.  It was fascinating!  The following spring I, too, signed up for “Bee School”.

So, there I was every Wednesday night for 5 weeks’ straight with over 50 other students, listening to individuals from the bee association extol the virtues and wonder of beekeeping.   I was surprised to see so many people there; we filled a whole college lecture room and there was another class of equal size in South County being given simultaneously.  The future beekeepers came from every walk of life: young, old, children with their parents, black, white, Asian, Hispanic, farmers and city folks.  And I was enjoying it!  How did that happen?  What happened to the cringing fear everytime I heard that ominous “buzz”?

Granted, there are many virtues to raising honey bees, or Apis mellifera (Mike Ford was a stickler about Latin names!).  The most important is the recent reports of Colony Collapse.  Another “wonder” I received from Apollo Herbs’ class was learning about revered herbalist, Juliette de Bairacli Levy (who also recommended telling it to the bees…).  We watched “Juliette of the Herbs” in one of the workshops and I later purchased a copy of the DVD for myself.  She states in the film that “as long as the bee can live, Man can live…but the bees are dying!” (de Baircli Levy, 1996)  Bees are one of our primary pollinators.  Without them, we would all starve.  It’s scary to think that so many colonies are dying.  I’ve heard many theories: global warming, cellphone towers messing with their radar, excessive use of chemicals, etc., as to why the colonies are collapsing.  I wonder if it isn’t a little bit of each, overwhelming the poor creatures.  I encourage everyone with the interest and the means to take up this wonderful hobby and help bring the bees back from possible extinction.

Bees give us many gifts besides the pollination of crops.  In herb class, we learned to make salves using beeswax for our foundation.  Since graduating from the class I have also started making my own lip balms.  A future endeavor is to make candles and other items from beeswax.  It can get pretty expensive trying to purchase enough beeswax from other beekeepers to support an inventory for my home-based business.  So, keeping my overhead down is an added bonus.  And, of course, the honey is the sweetest reason–both literally and figuratively speaking.  I love honey in my tea, it’s great for candied pecans and mead is a smooth spirit for the palate.  Honey also makes a nice cough elixir.  Health food stores carry propolis and royal jelly but I agree with Juliette in letting the bees keep that for themselves (de Bairacli Levy, 1996).

In Bee School, we learned about some of the industries associated with beekeeping.  Did you know some orchards will actually hire beekeepers to bring their hives into their orchards to pollinate them?  And there are some beekeepers who primarily raise queens to sell to other beekeepers.  We learned about the different diseases that can afflict honeybees–albeit with chemical solutions–and more practical things like assembling hive boxes, when to add another “super”, what to do about swarms and how to prevent them, etc.

But, as I learned more about this extraordinary world, it was the honey bee, itself, that won my affection.  They are fascinating creatures.  Once I started learning about them, my fear dissipated and I would spend hours just watching them in my friend’s herb garden.  I had volunteered to help him weed one day but I was more often than not paused in my observations.  It’s amazing they can even fly with all the pollen they collect on their legs!  And never once did I get stung even when I “zoomed in” for a closer look at their industry.  They seemed to know I was harmless.  They are hard workers.  The old expression, “busy as a bee” is apt.  The worker bees, who are all female, by the way, collect pollen, build honeycomb, fill the cells with honey, feed, groom and pamper the queen, cool the hive with their wings and perform a host of other functions as well.  There are only a small number of drones (males).  They are there for one, single moment of glory–to impregnate the queen, who lays approximately 1500 eggs per day.  Once they’ve impregnated her, they die.  (This fact drew quite a few snickers in Bee School…lol!)

It was during only my second class that my heart was truly captured.  The instructor showed a documentary depicting life in the hive.  One scene showed a newly-hatched honeybee eating her way out of her cell.  By some advanced technological sound equipment, the director of the film was able to capture the sounds inside this hive.  The newly-hatched worker hadn’t quite gotten her “buzz” yet.  Instead she was emitting the most charming little “beep” as she devoured the wax covering.  Moments later, this fuzzy, little, yellow creature made her debut and tottered around, trying to find her “legs”.  She was so helpless and harmless that the decision to become a beekeeper was made.  Any residual fear left in me was finally eradicated by this winsome creature–until the day I released my first box of bees into the hive.  But that is a story for another day…