Before I plant, I sit for a while to listen and talk to Her, the seeds and the land, where they will be planted. As I roll the black-blue, pearl-like seeds around in my hand like a rosary, singing my story and prayers into the ancient ones, She of a thousand faces appears to accept my prayers. She’s dancing as a tiger butterfly over the planting area, beautiful, light, magical. As I plant the blue jewels, little transparent worlds with layers of green and purple, I sing a new song that the butterfly teaches me.

The blessing deepens. After I plant I sit and journey with the Hopi warriors I have just sown. At the end of my ceremony I open my eyes and notice, over the first seed I planted in the first row, there is a bristling of black and yellow fire. There’s a hundred or more Swallowtails. One for each seed, all dancing together on the shining wet ground.

I plant these Hopi blue corn in staggered years, so as to not cross her with other long seasoned ‘grain’ corn. She came to me through my dear friends Stephen and Nathalie, to them from Martin Pretchel, and to him from the Hopi who’ve kept them for thousands of years. I am so thankful She found her way to me to grow, bloom and fruit here, thousands of miles north of her ancestral home. Through keeping and growing her, I feel the countless other growers who have worked with her. They have all worked as sacred priests, protecting and nurturing her, to bring her to my hand and land on this very day I offer her back to the Earth.

To eat her, we first strip the dried cobs by hand. The first few kernels are hard to budge, but once the mother corn knows you’re serious, She gives the rest more easily. We soak our grain corn in a pre-made mixture of wood ash and water, or limestone powder and water. This process is called nixtamalization. This process greatly increases the availability of nutrients to us from the corn. According to Sandor Katz in his book ‘Wild Fermentation‘, “..it alters the ratio of available amino acids, rendering nixtamalized corn a complete protein, and making niacin in the corn more available to humans”. When it’s not done this way, as it isn’t in all North American forms of corn, then your body not only doesn’t receive the corn’s nutrition, but the corn can cause deficiencies, digestion problems and inflammation.

Unprocessed corn is the basis of our food. It’s in literally thousands of products in the supermarket and forms the core of industrial animal feed for chickens, pigs and cows, both meat and dairy. What’s really scary is that the corn not only isn’t nixtamalized, it’s also most likely GMO. Yikes. It’s no wonder that so many people can’t eat food from the supermarket anymore.

Good locally adapted heritage corn is hard to come by for the consumer, and the growers, for many reasons. First, corn takes a lot from the land, and considering this when it’s being sold, even ‘by the dozen’, it doesn’t pay. The input costs of good land, seed, fertilizing and weeding aren’t covered. And because so very few organic growers can be bothered growing and saving heritage corn, there are very few regionally adapted types of heritage corn being grown. If organic corn was thirty dollars a dozen, that’s about the minimum it’s actually worth. To make it even trickier, corn cross-pollinates by wind very easily and at a great distance. So, even if you have an open-pollinated heritage strain, you must grow many miles away from the nearest GMO or other hybrid types as they will cross with the treasured seed.

The seed companies and government has thousands of heritage corn strains stashed away in the deep freeze but this may or may not ever trickle down to the small farmer. Unfortunately, it’s more likely that this seeds will be used by multinationals as “raw materials” to create “new better strains”. Meanwhile if the government was actually interested in helping people of the future, they’d support the small farmers of the day that are helping keep these seeds alive. Helping the seeds be who they are, and helping them adapt, year by year to a changing world.

It has been just over a month since I sowed the corn and started this post. Every kernel germinated and they’re up and running, almost a foot tall. The beans that I plant around the corn, (Northeastern Giant Climbing pole bean and Five nations beans) are running ahead, some are three feet long.

Here’s our favourite cornbread recipe, from Sally Fallon‘s Nourishing Traditions. This cornbread is delicious, and sticks with you. You can feel how much more nutritive it is that a standard cornbread recipe.
Enjoy!

CORNBREAD
serves 6-8

2 cups freshly ground cornmeal
1/2 cup freshly ground spelt, kamut or whole wheat flour
1/2 cup unbleached white flour
1 1/2 cups lime water ( 1 inch pickling lime soaked in a 2 quart jar, shake well and leave overnight).
1 cup buttermilk or yogurt
3 eggs, lightly beaten
1/4 cup maple syrup
1 tsp sea salt
2 tsps baking soda
1/4 cup melted butter

Soak cornmeal in lime water for about 7 hours. Stir in flour and buttermilk (or yogurt) and let stand for 12 to 24 hours. Blend in remaining ingredients. Pour into a buttered 9×13 pan. Bake at 325 for about 1 hour, or until a toothpick comes out clean.

Let us know how it goes!

This year the Goddess smiled at us. We had no late spring frosts and regular rains with lots of heat. A golden year for the garden and wild land. It was all I could do to just keep up with one cherry tree. I willingly let the birds have the rest. The Montmorency cherries hang down from laden limbs starting at head height and reach about 14 ft tall, so much of the picking is done from the top of the ladder. While twisting around branches to tickle and tug off ripe cherries I got to thinking about the age old adage “life is like a bowl of cherries”. These days our agricultural parables are fading with the pastural existence that once dominated culture and our understanding of our place in this world. Most people don’t even know this expression now, yet it’s as relevant and laden with meaning as my cherry trees were with fruit this year.

When I was a kid I thought this metaphor was clear enough. I thought it was about enjoying life and avoiding the pits/pitfalls. The word “pit” itself reveals many of the cherry teachings. It derives from a hole in the ground or even a well. But it can also mean something more antagonistic, as in “pit against”, “pitfall”, or the brutality of a stone in the middle of a fruit.

Now after living a good number of years, and being immersed in this year’s cherry picking season I think the meaning of this simile might be more nuanced and layered then most of us imagined. Let’s start with the question why is life not like a bowl of strawberries or blueberries. Why cherries? If life was made of pit-less, skinless, stemless fruit (experiences) that would mean life was all just a happy glut from start to end. I’m sure I don’t have to tell you, it is not. If it is for you then you’re on a short ride to be sacrificed, full payment. It’s just not the deal for us, it’s pay as you go. In life, or eating a bowl of cherries, one must use ones senses and learn to pace yourself. Reflect and relish, reflect and relish.

The other thing about a bowl of cherries in particular is how incredibly privileged we are that we have been given a bowl of cherries, aka your life. Those cherries didn’t just arrive in an amazon box or even pop up in a year or two from the garden. Unlike with shorter lived and smaller fruits like strawberries or blueberries they took commitment and a vision, they need space and time. They were seeded and tending to for many years before there was any fruit. And then, to get that fruit off the tree into that bowl and into our hands, like the life we all hold, it took a whole lot more care and labour. And yet here we are sitting with a bowl of cherries and have the gall to complain that they are not all perfect!

The nuance under the phrase “life is like a bowl of cherries” came from the experience of picking cherries. One part of it is also contained in that other ripe phrase “cherry picking”. The thing that most people don’t know is cherries don’t all ripen at once like many other fruits. Like Apples or Pears or Blueberries, where 80-90% are ripe at one time (if they are not eaten). And unless they’re pin cherries you can’t just shake the ripe ones out of the tree. You have to go through every branch and every cluster at least twice a season. You have to selectively ‘cherry pick’ the ripe ones. And they don’t just fall off the stem, they need a little tug. The gradual ripening also means in any given “bowl of cherries” or life, there will be some experiences that are not ripe. They will be like sour cherries. Then there will be some that are close to ripe and have some sweetness. And some that are a little over ripe with a boozy sweet flavour. And maybe 1 or 2 in every ten cherries or experiences are perfect. Heavenly texture and balanced rich flavour sweet with a hint of sour.

The other teaching like that sweet flavour that starts to bleed through when you roll the sweet pit around in your mouth is that the perfect sweetness of these rare cherries, as with life’s sweet experiences, contain the seed or essence of life. They captivate us, body and soul to keep us going. To keep us coming back life after life. From the experience of their sensual beauty as we eat that perfect cherry we are caught in the pursuit of the next sweet morsel of life. That dream of the next perfect cherry drives us forward in life to eat all the other less than perfect cherries. This is where the discipline of moderation comes into the metaphor’s teaching. Because if you eat too many cherries too fast you get a stomachache. Too many sour experiences or cherries and we evacuate our bowels. Our spirit and body grows thin with sourness and we are unable to find nutrients. Too many overripe ones and we become a sweet fermenting pot, with the round belly and the accompanying gas.

And let’s not forget the stone. We have to take some care in eating cherries or in our life or we’re likely to chomp down on or swallow something hard and undigestible, or worse yet break a tooth trying! The pit is that thing in the centre of reality we can’t sink our teeth into directly. And that will break our teeth (mortality) if we try to. The pit is part of a bigger reality. It is the reason for the fruit. And maybe the reason for us too. It is also the tree’s seeded key into the future. In the centre of every moment and every experience there is an impenetrably dense core. You might see it as a seed or as antimatter. If we are patient and nibble at it the pit we find the flesh directly around it is the sweetest. There’s something telling there. But in the end the pit’s hardness wins and we spit it out.

This is where the metaphor of the pit gets more complex and multilayered. It turns out a good part of the overall nutrition and medicine of a single cherry is held by the pit. The fruit is mostly sugars but the pit is made up of carbohydrates, fats and proteins. One part of the pit contains a chemical, amygdalin, that can cause our bodies to produce a kind of cyanide, but this chemical is also a medicine taken in small amounts. Just to be clear the pits ground-up, un-roasted, un-leached or fermented are poisonous to us. For us to absorb the nutrition and medicine of the pit it has to be alchemized through culture. They have to be cracked, cooked, leached or fermented to change into a non-toxic absorbable form for us. The pits are extremely high in flavonoids, which translates to flavour. The flavour is a deep cherry almond vanilla. Flavour equates to nutrition. And flavour also relates to medicine. So it’s not surprising many cultures throughout the Northern Hemisphere have used cherries to flavour ferments. Mostly I know about making alcohol, but people used the pits for tea and to flavour sauerkraut and baked goods, meats and pies. With making wines sometimes the fruit and pits are used together in the initial fermenting mash for several months. And sometimes just the pits are used. Probably because they are a by-product of the fruit industry.

Back to our metaphor, philosophically the pit’s medicine is like those painful but incredibly enlightening dark truths that can heal us or set us free. Like those that come to us while we are learning to embrace death and suffering. When we don’t turn away, when we don’t run or try to protect our heart we are able to receive the deeper gift’s death (the ultimate pit) is offering.

The pit also contains many essential fatty acids and anti-inflammatory compounds, that can help with muscle and joint pain. As well as chemicals that are incredibly healing for our cardiovascular system and heart. These are cyanide related and similar to ‘apple-seed medicine’ which I’ve spoken of in other articles. When doing a bit of research on them I wasn’t surprised to learn of the food value of the pits because over the years I noticed squirrels and chipmunks will strip the ripe flesh off the wild choke cherries and discard it just to collect the seeds. I’ve found stashes of their choke cherry seeds 6 inches down in my garden mulch. Thats how I figured it out what they were doing. I’ve also heard First Nation’s people processed them (not sure how) and then ate them in a ground form. Given the availability and them being a free and abundant by-product of processing the fruit, as well as their nutritional value it is hard to believe First Nations people didn’t use them.

I suppose the lessons most fruits in the north have to teach us is two-fold. First to be intimately connected to land and embrace the moment, so you can capture life at its best. To be patient until the fruit is ripe, and then be able to act and not to hesitate when the time is right, so as to not lose ‘the harvest’ She has presented us with. And with pit fruit in particular we are taught we have to have some degree of caution around the pits both in harvesting and life.

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CHAPTER 1

How the Garden Began

In 1989, I bought the parcel of forested land on which this book is primarily focused. The land was as far south as needed to still be wild, and as far north as I could imagine still being able to grow food -- located just outside of Algonquin Park, on the Madawaska River, Ontario, Canada.

At this point I’d been gardening for about ten years and had made the money to buy the land, from my eco-landscaping company Livingstone and Greenbloom. Faced with this piece of pristine land I wasn’t sure what to do. I wanted to grow my food in gardens, but because of my earlier experience of living for four years in the bush as a forager, I couldn’t even imagine cutting down the forest to do it.

This was the wilderness and a greater wisdom, or simply an undercurrent of con- science took over. I wanted to live, or make a living from the land, but I didn’t want the forest to be terrorized in the process. When I’d lived in bush huts and foraged for much of my food in the Muskoka area, I’d lived as sustainably as I could, and left very little trace during those years. I wasn’t going to transgress on the agreements I’d made with Her, or the peace and magic that still lived in me from that time. I felt that if I were to try to make a living from selective logging and or Maple syrup production, the only conventional means practiced in the area, it would be too much pressure on the eighty-nine acres. Farming, the other historical land use of the area, seemed out of the question as I would need to clear-cut the treed, rocky slopes that made up the land, deemed “unarable” even by those intrepid, early colonizers of the valley.

For a few years, while I was trying to figure out a way to make a living sustainably from the land, I sugared on a small scale, foraged, and cut standing deadwood for firewood. I also built a small Hogan from mud, grass and deadwood to stay in when I was there. I still worked making gardens and art, living part-time in Toronto.

When I was on the land, I lived in the Hogan or slept outside when it was warm. I did a bit of wild planting on the forestlands’ only sunny areas; the north side of an abandoned survey road. Because the roadside was sandy and the nearest water was about a kilometre away downhill, I planted herbs and perennial veggies with hearty roots that could withstand the drought -- Jerusalem artichoke, Rhubarb, Sorrel, Good King Henry, Sweetgrass, Sage, Russian Tarragon and Asparagus.

Back then, I was really just starting to practice what I now refer to as “wild culturing”. Even though I had been professionally landscaping for five years and food gardening for ten, I still didn’t have the vision, integration, or experience to let the land make the decisions. I mostly thought about the requirements of the plant, planting almost randomly over the landscape without much rhyme or reason.

The First Wild Gardens on the Land
My First Teachers

By the second and third year on the land in Madawaska, I’d found patches of much younger tree growth in the dense hardwood forest. These were landings that had been clear-cut around 1977, for storing logs brought in from the surrounding forest. 1977 was the last time the land had been selectively cut for Maple hardwood.

The young trees growing on these spots were twelve to fifteen years old at the time the first garden was made. Most of the trees were softwoods like poplars and white birch -- relative to the surrounding seventy plus years old hardwood forest. Because the landings were already depleted and had been clear-cut and bull-dozed, I felt it might be ok with the forest, or somehow good karma, to garden on these spots – to reclaim and recondition the abused areas. After meditating on a couple of these old log storage areas, I clearly received the go-ahead from the land, to put my first intensive garden in one of the areas.

I was already learning, because I took my time with this decision and used my heart, not just my reason. When I meditated at the one site, the sky was very cloudy and I smelled something musty or skunky. It did not feel good or fruitful. When I meditated at the other site, (that I eventually chose to work with) the clouds cleared, and a circular rainbow broke out around the sun. As I found out later, there was little soil and no water at the first site, even though, by all appearances, it seemed like the better choice of the two sites to start a garden.

There was also not much topsoil at the site that I chose. Both sites had been bulldozed back in seventy-seven. So, I hauled out by hand, in buckets, about a ton of silt from a creek bed one hundred metres away, to enrich the soil of the garden site, and to simultaneously create a summer waterhole near the garden. To improve the soil of the garden site I added the black silt and about ten large tarp-full’s of leaves and mulch from the forest floor (500lbs), plus a few buckets of ash I’d collected from the Hogan fire pit. I then lightly mixed and dug this mixture into the existing, thin, rocky, sandy soil. I pulled rocks as I went, which I used to hold down the outside of the chicken-wire fence. The fence stretched out on the ground a foot or so, to prevent animals from just slipping under the bottom of it. The total area was about 4m x 5m.

Slugs were a problem in that garden. I tried drowning them in bowls of beer or brewers yeast and water. I tried boundary lines of lime and ash, and the entire list of home remedies with only moderate success. They still found my strawberries.

After a couple of years of this I saw “copper slug tape” in a gardening magazine, and immediately thought of using used copper piping, which I nailed on top of 1”x 4” boards surrounding the garden. When the copper pipe is nailed to the top edge of the board, slugs are forced to cross it to get into the garden, but they won’t cross it, because copper carries a natural electric charge. I kept the vegetation back, so they couldn’t cross over the copper barrier, and the problem was solved. I could even grow strawberries.

I grew intensively in that garden for five years, and I didn’t have to till that soil again. I did add a foot or so of fallen maple leaves and a layer of ash every fall, on top of that year’s crop residues. Then, the following spring I planted plugs, seeds directly in small holes, or in lines made by parting the winter-pressed mat of leaves. The planting holes reached down to the previous years’ soil layer. I grew all kinds of heritage veggies, mostly sun-loving annuals including corn and squash, as well as beans, carrots, beets, turnips, potatoes, lettuces and different kinds of collards. I ritually harvested kale on new year’s day, digging down through the snow.

I had a cold frame made from a couple of old windows, so that I could grow from late April to early January in that Zone 3 wilderness garden. When my water hole in the creek went dry in August, I strung out my winter wood tarps in the bush, like sails on their side, to catch and funnel the quick summer downpours into a barrel.

When I started gardening for the first time in the forest, I felt that the garden was very vulnerable. Locals told me with complete authority “Gardening in the forest can’t be done”.

They said that to do it you’d need to live by the garden, have dogs, a ten-foot electric fence, traps and a gun. They put the fear in me, so I did fence off this first garden with chicken wire.

The third year after making the first garden I found another landing, and I made another similar garden, but with more integration. This garden “fit” the land better. I used more perennials. And, for fencing I just used a few wires tied to live trees encircling the garden, and then used the young trees I’d pulled out to make the “fence”, weaving the young trunks through the three wires until they formed a fence line.

To make the bottom tighter I wove together their root bases at the ground level and filled in any openings with other brush from the clearing. This made it nearly impossible for rabbits and porcupines to get in. Generally, this fence worked perfectly, channelling animals away from the garden. But once, some ripe corn was too sweet smelling and I did have to use a homemade raccoon trap. I guess that the night the raccoon spent alone inside the trap, combined with the trip down the valley and across the wide Madawaska river by canoe, got the message across to not come back.

In that third-year garden, I also made a second circle of fallen trees, about ten or twenty feet out from the garden fence line. The reason for this second circle was Deer and Moose might have jumped over or pushed through my makeshift fence, but they avoid areas in the forest where trees have fallen, because they really don’t like getting their legs tangled in horizontal branches.

With each garden, as each year passed, I learned more about the relations on the land and how to gently work with them. I also learned what plants worked with the land. After the creation of the second forest garden I started to see that there might truly be a way to co-create a “wild-garden” -- to integrate the garden with the animals and the surrounding forest ecology. Essentially, to co-create a garden that would be an intensive foraging area.

The Mayan Agricultural Revelation

In the dark cold November, during my second full season on the Madawaska land, I found myself restless and dreaming of green places. A month later, I was in Chiapas, Mexico. As is often the way, when I was open and ready for the information, it came to me. Or, in this case, I suppose I went to it.

In 1992, Chiapas happened to be a very dangerous place. But, I must shamefully admit that I was oblivious to the genocide that was being inflicted on the rural Mayan population since the late seventies. In part, my ignorance was because I didn’t have media contact when I lived in the bush. I avoided the “news” in any form. I imagined I was somehow above politics and solely focused on the spiritual and natural world. The challenges of just surviving in a non-English speaking world, as well as the fact that no one spoke openly about what was going on, kept me in the dark about the horrors that had happened; and continued to take place all around me. All I knew was that there was some “Guerilla war” going on and that there were no U.S. citizens around, and very few other Canadians, because of the disappearances and hostage taking.

Perhaps naively, I trusted that the Earth was protecting me and I would be ok, and I was. On this trip I learned about many things and met some great teachers, human and otherwise. But, agriculturally speaking, my greatest teachers were the Lacandon Mayan people.

Outside of a small village, close to Palenque, I saw traditional gardening methods that perfectly embodied what I sought to do on the Madawaska. The villagers used a method of successive polyculture in their “milpas” (small jungle gardens). They would slash and burn an area to create a fertile pocket in the jungle. Although smaller, this opening looked pretty much like the environmentally shunned, clear-cut slash and burn method used to raise cattle in the tropics. But, rather than exhausting the thin soil growing corn and or quickly retiring the land to being low grade cattle pasture, they would carefully plant by hand over one hundred plants species, all at once in the small clearing. Everything from annuals to hardwood trees would all be planted together at the same time. Over the next human generation, each plant group would have their turn in their succession over the shorter-lived plants. The Lacandon followed the natural growth successions of a clearing as it would grow, over time, back into wilderness. They had learned this from the wilderness and had perfected growing this way - following the progenerative flow of the land in a sensitive, liquid improvisation - over millennia of working with Her.

The University Experience

When I came back four months later to catch the flow of my own land’s richness, the Maple syrup season in Madawaska, I was interested in knowing if any Aboriginal people had done, or were doing this form of successive polyculture here in Canada. I dropped by Trent University, which had the biggest Native studies department in North America, and a large Native student body. I tagged along with a friend, Laura, who was thinking of doing a post-graduate degree there, and had an appointment scheduled to meet with an advisor. We went our own ways when we got there and planned to meet up later.

As fate would have it, I stumbled into John March that day. I didn’t know that John March, a renowned geographer and dreamer at heart, was the Dean of the Frost Centre for Canadian and Native studies at the time. I literally just wandered through his open door and we introduced ourselves. I told him what I had seen in Chiapas and what I was seeking. John looked bright eyed and said he wasn’t aware of Native people practicing this type of polyculture in Canada, but that he thought it sounded very interesting. After we talked for a while he seemed to decide that I was going to do an M.A., and encouraged me to do it under the rubric of Canadian and Native studies. John said that the research on the traditional plant use, that I might gather though interviews, could be used in an atlas that Trent was producing on the Haliburton Highlands. The Haliburton highlands are just south-west of the Madawaska forested land (with the same type of ecology and climate), so it seemed a perfect fit to research traditional land use in that area.

After my talk with John, I walked out of the building to meet up with my friend again. I felt a little stunned realizing I was going to do an M.A. on the topic, remembering I’d said at some distant, earlier point after finishing an honours B.F.A, “I’ll never go back to school”. I hadn’t even considered going back to school when I went there that day, but in truth, I was still floating around looking for information.

I met up a bit later with Laura and told her what had happened. Now she looked completely stunned. It turned out that she’d fallen asleep on a couch and missed her appointment. But, everything unfolds as it should, no matter how tragic or irritating it seems at the time. She later did an M.A. at NYU, and found her true home in New York City.

When I started to do the research at Trent, I found out about silvaculture, agro-forestry, ecological landscaping and permaculture. All of these forms of land use did have things in common with the Mayan polycultural gardens. Interestingly, most of these movements started at about the same time, in the 1980’s, that these ideas were first germinating in me. It was clearly time for integrated polyculture to be rediscovered. I felt as though I had stumbled into a form of secret knowledge essential for humanity’s survival. I’d found a sweet forbidden fruit, freakishly born from the ancient seed of the first garden. Eden was now flowering in my mind.

In this most grim of times, when the industrial hierarchy controls agriculture, I could see a seed of hope emerging for a future on this planet. An ancient seed had germinated in me, and others of like mind, springing up from below the compost of our dark history. I could see that, over time, Earth would favour the indigenous way of ecologically integrated polyculture. And, like a lost ancient seed emerging from the deep hardpan of pre-history, this form of and use would re-awaken and bloom in the fields of humanity, creating new forms, contours and dimension where once there was only flat monoculture. I could see the stripped Earth recovered in a living mosaic of turquoise and jade fields, adorning the Earth like jewels and hand-woven clothing.

While at Trent, I also found many environmental, artistic, and spiritual Earth movements that were equally useful references for my thesis, although not always valued by the academy. My most secure, academic reference was from Native elders. In their own words, elders told me that pre-contact, polycultural-types of gardening did happen all over Canada on a large scale. Although, the type of Native gardening that I sought in the North, had seldom, if ever, been documented. Coinciding with the rising public interest in “permaculture”, a type of polyculture, a bit more information has come out in the last decade or so, after I completed my M.A.

While there were no documented examples from the area I was studying, there were some examples of Native gardening in the North East and North Central US, and in the highlands of Central America, as well as examples of traditional gardening from other, similar climatic areas worldwide. I used these documented cases to support my thesis. I wrote a thesis on the actual design and implementation of co-creating a successive polycultural forest garden in the Southern Algonquin Bioregion -- the Madawaska Forest Garden outlined in this book.

When I was trying to pin down exactly what my thesis would be, I spoke with the heads of many departments including Anthropology, Ecology and Agricultural studies. They all advised me against writing my thesis on something that was related to me personally, or on actually doing something physical, something real. I was also told that studying something, which had not been previously studied was not appropriate at the M.A. level. Seeing my heartfelt interest they advised me earnestly against doing the thesis on something so personal, knowing I would be crushed in the process. But, being that my primary interest in going to the university was to research wild forms of gardening and forest gardening, in order to make such a garden, I ignored them and pushed forward single-mindedly. It wasn’t the first thorny patch I’ve pushed myself through. But the academic bramble did rip most of the colour and ceremonious language away from the story, which is in part why I write this book on the same topic as the thesis.

It seemed that much of getting the Master’s degree was an exercise in trying to justify or intellectually explain what I already knew. To find out what and how I knew things, I journeyed with a hoop drum. Initially the academics found this mode of research alarming and even accused me of Native appropriation. But amazingly, the faculty completely changed their minds when I got Henry Lickers, an Akwesasne elder on my committee. Henry “pulled my fat out of the fire” as he said. He told them, “This way of finding information is not a Native thing, this is a human thing”. He then proceeded to list off the different names of Peoples, from all over, who practice this type of information retrieval. Everything was hunky-dory when Henry came in. Those who had angrily accused me before were now grinning ear to ear.

The real question about drumming and journeying for information was not, who does this practice belong to, but, how does it work? Sean Kane, another special person on my committee, who supported my approach and who is an authority on Native language and myth, did ask this question, “How does it work?”, at my thesis defence. I weaselled around, explaining that it wasn’t part of the thesis but he pressed on and said “Ok, off the record then…how does it work?”. Everyone in the room suddenly looked more interested and awake than they had through the whole defense. We all became so caught up in discussing the intricacies of receiving such information, that we forgot about the land use thesis and its official defense for a good ten minutes.

During my first year, one of the TA’s also accused me of using circular arguments to justify my points. I always thought that this was funny because this is exactly what I was trying to do. I didn’t want any contrived endings or presumed legitimate starting points. The difference in our approach to life was painfully evident. He was in the West and I was the East. I was interested in exploring the present time and space for connections while not being interested in “progress”, or in going anywhere in particular. But the academics wanted me to build an argument, to start at the bottom on a good foundation and work my way up, leaving something unfinished so that the next person could add their bricks.

The problem with that was that I believed the premises of the academic foundation were shaky, and that in the big picture there is no start or end point. We can only go around in a circle, or maybe a spiral. So, I felt that where I started should also be where I ended up, or my exploration of the point would not have been finished.

Anyway, while attempting to be as holistic and interdisciplinary as possible, my MA document upon its completion still turned out to be dry and detached from the land. It ended up being more about human culture and historical agricultural techniques. This ethnographic information was easier for the University to accept than information about land use, or gardening as co-creation, or as an extension of the Earth’s agricultural continuum.

What gardening is really about is difficult to address with reason, but is actually very simple. The key is too simple and obscure for academia to study. The key to good gardening is in our hearts. It’s about deeply honouring and being connected with the heart of the Earth. It’s from this mysterious connection that culture is cocreated and knowledge comes. Evolution in human culture has always come from sparks of information, created through this primary relationship be- tween our heart and the heart of the Earth. These days the sparks are called biomimicry in academic circles. And while the details of the mimicry are carried out by our minds, the “Ah-ha” moments, where the understanding comes into us, comes from our heart.

At university I found out about other people that gardened in a similar way to people in the Chiapas region, and to myself. But perhaps more importantly, I learned that we can’t create gardens or culture from information alone. As Henry Licker’s says, “What we learn in school is like the books on the shelf. That knowledge ain’t alive. It mostly just sits on the shelf in our minds doin’ nothin’. Can’t eat books, can’t dig or hunt with ‘em. ‘bout all dar’ good fur, in this life or the next, is wipen’ your arse or kindlin’ for startin’ fire”. I should mention that Henry, who was traditionally educated by his grandparents, also has a doctorate in ecology.

Henry also made me aware of a new, somewhat problematic movement within academia called “traditional ecological knowledge”, or TEK. The problem being that academia was trying to stuff this big traditional knowledge into the smaller paradigms of ecology or historic Native studies. I felt that they were having such a big problem integrating TEK because it was areas of studies like ecology and history, that should be placed within the larger context of TEK. Henry gave me an- other great saying that I’ll pass on here, “When the traditional Native people are out in the forest measuring trees with calipers and doing basal diametre counts and the academics are out in the forest drumming for information, then we’ll get somewhere”.

What if agriculture was never meant to just grow food for us?

What if through four thousand years of rolling colonization and cultural theft the ritual practices of agriculture were stripped of their spiritual potency and cultural significance?

What if the first Palaeocene agriculturalists were acting out a ritual spell to grow not just food, but to grow ‘culture’?

What if what we call horticulture or agriculture was actually a divine gift, and not a curse as the ‘good book’ has led us to believe?

A miraculous gift that not only feeds us but was meant to create a culture of caretakers!

What if mysterious forces gave us these sacred tools of agriculture to help us weak little humans through lean times on the land, and to expand our population (of caretakers) in times of plenty?

What if agriculture was never about taming or exploiting Her and giving us civilization, as we see it now, but rather about caring for Her and saving Her wild places and working with her as our numbers grew?

Intensive agriculture meant not only would everyone always have food, it also meant we didn’t need to take as much from the wild.

What if those acts like making a furrow or hole and planting seed, or grafting and pruning trees were in fact rituals that enacted sacred agreements between humans and the Urth?

Keep in mind these now secular rituals are essentially how all our food is produced, how our fruit, grains and vegetables are still grown.

What if ‘culture’ (social structures, spiritual orientation…) itself mysteriously grows from these ‘seed’ rituals of sustenance?

And what if by ignoring the agreements and changing the rituals (for more production), we’ve unintentionally changed the spells

that create culture, in ways that no sane person could be proud of?

In E. F Schumacher’s (President of the UK soil association for something like fifty years) book “Small is Beautiful” he makes the observation that any cultures modality of subsistence, it’s agriculture, perfectly reflects that civilizations cultural constructs and treatment of its people, and nature at large. Agriculture both informs and is informed by the culture. As the words themselves indicate culture is inside of agriculture, and agriculture is an extension of culture.

What if the formation of culture more is mysterious and akin to how we work with the Earth agriculturally than we can imagine. As an other example think about fermentation ‘cultures’ like mead, bread or Kefir as a ritual metaphor. Until very recently these foods and drinks were seen as divine gifts, co-created by people and the ‘spirits’ through highly ritualised ceremonies.

They had to be carefully done and gently handled because success depended on being able to host unseen ’spirits’, (we now call Yeast or bacteria.) With ferments it’s clear to see where science and spirituality can be in agreement. They have a different set of descriptors but are walking the same road. Now we have to do the same with thing with our agricultural practices, our GMO monocultures, which are now casting a spell to create a totalitarian culture.

The larger thesis here is if we go back to paleolithic/mesolithic modalities of agriculture, honouring the original agreements, could a sustainable culture grow from it as it once did?

This is a very different and more magical way of thinking about social change. Planting seeds for a better future and growing change, like a grafted tree, from the roots up. This change doesn’t start at the top and work down like government, it starts in your own backyard!

What would an agriculture that follows the original agreements, the Palaeolithic practices look like?

Fortunately we still have living examples of these agreements which are held by indigenous cultures, that still practise the old ways and rituals for their subsistence. We also have extensive archeological records that point to the similar practices in pre-christian Europe and in many other places around the globe like Asia, Middle East, Mediterranean, North Africa and the America’s. These indigenous ways are what I’ve based my personal gardening practices on for the last thirty years and what I teach.

Here is a more specific list of practices and how they relate to cultural traits.

Our agriculture is extremely large scale, requires few people but massive energy and technology inputs. These characteristics relate to the patriarchal, top-down controlling hierarchy we live in.

We think we have the right to control everything in the natural order (and to exploit it as much as possible); from the soil biota, to water, to the genetics of the plant, to controlling pollination by using European bees as pollinators…. These modern fields, gardens or orchard areas are meant to work in relative isolation from the rest of the ecology, and are seen as completely and exclusively as our domain. No other plant animal or insect is allowed (with a few exceptions).

Indigenous plantings are smaller scale, have extremely low input only using manual labour, and work with the natural order in almost every way, including; planting ancestral seeds; moving gardens before the land is exhausted, and working with the spirits of the land and weather, co-creating directly with the Ecology.

The practice of planting in monoculture came about from Roman colonization. Planting had to be simplified because they were making slaves grow the new Roman crops to feed the ongoing war machine.

Indigenous gardens (as seen in traditional Mayan milpas) are poly-cultural, often containing anywhere from twenty to over a hundred plant species. Annuals, perennials, domestic and wild plants are fostered all together for food and medicine in the garden. As with other indigenous cultures there is a much more horizontal and fluid cultural structure.

Modern agriculture plants in straight lines, and alters the landscape to do so. This practice relates back to using a plough and draft animals, where stopping and starting or turning, making curves or angles to fit the land is difficult if not impossible. So the exploitation, and its costs (40 acres of pasture) are built right into the culture. This ultimately led to the industrial era where yoking a huge majority of the population into production lines is necessary.

Indigenous plantings done by hand are often in spiral groupings, like with the three sisters on mounds, emulating the cosmic order. Or the plantings are in irregular patches that fit the microclimates of the existing landscape and soil. Indigenous culture is not seen as an isolated utopia, but rather is formed with the same cosmic and ecological deliberations to keep the culture connected to the land and sky.

Modern agriculture uses huge inputs in the form of chemical fertilizers and pesticides, as well as the cost of the machinery and petroleum.

Indigenous agriculture seldom used(s) any form of animal manure (as they didn’t keep domestic ungulates), and had few other inputs, working with the natural fertility of the land. If measured in calories of energy; input against what is harvested or taken out, a person working the land with a stick or hoe is a hundred times more efficient than using draft animals (that you have to clear land and grow food for), and a thousand times more efficient than using machines and modern hydrocarbon inputs.

Historically, the people or cultures that have grown monocultural crops are generally monotheistic, and tend to be very controlling and have strict behavioural rules, and social hierarchies reflecting their growing practices.

The people who work the land in Indigenous ways tend(ed) to be polytheistic animists and or Goddess oriented cultures, who cherish diversity and inclusiveness. These cultures tend to discourage controlling behaviours, seldom ‘telling’ anyone to do anything, nor do they respond well to being ‘told’ what to do.

They also comparatively have very little in the way of top-down governance and even fewer ‘laws’ or rules.

Clearly, if we were all indigenous animists, as we once were, the world would be a very different place, as it once was.

Animism recognizes the spirit within everything and honours its place. So any ‘taking’ or ‘destructive’ action toward plants or anything in the ecology would be viewed with great dismay.

Even making a new path or clearing for an animists involves not just a huge amount of physical work but spiritual work to counter the wake of destruction. These labours are both part of the price to be paid by us in the original agricultural agreements, that we have shrugged off and forgotten. Now we don’t do the physical work or feel any remorse from our destructive acts to the Earth.

With an animist understanding we could never have even thought of making steel machines, highways, skyscrapers or rocket-ships because the cost would simply be too much. More than we could ever pay back in many lifetimes. When the ancients did make monuments they were collective dedications to the ancestors and spirits of fecundity, for the whole community and not for personal wealth or comfort.

I’ve been wildcrafting herbs for thirty-five years, and I still learn (or re-learn) many things every year. I seldom have alone time these busy summer days, and when I do it’s usually when I go to wildcraft a specific herb. As you may have experienced yourself, when we are alone out in nature, we often have the deepest, clearest lessons come to us.

St. John’s is a very special harvest, both in terms of His importance in the herbal pantheon, and in His flowering ceremonial expression of solstice, a significant alignment and time for the Earth and Sun.

There are many types of St. John’s Wort, both North American and European, and though they can be used interchangeably, it is the European variety that is commonly used. In Europe, St. John’s Wort (Wort-an object that embodies spirit) comes into flower and is harvested at the summer solstice, (in the Christian mythology six months before the birth of Christ). Here in Central Ontario, St. John’s comes into flower a week or so later.

St. John’s has a very short harvest window and this was understood well in the middle ages. So much so, that they had a St. John’s day when this specific herb was harvested by everyone, to be dried and stored for the year’s use. Summer solstice has also long been a day for great celebration and healing. Before the Christian era, St. John’s or “Wound Wort” was associated with The Summer King, the Green Man, a God of fecundity born in the heart of the summer. Visits from Gods or Goddesses tend to be brief and potent. So, if you want to have the healing power of the Gods, you must move at the right time to receive St. John’s during the last week of June.

The ancient Greeks, aptly named this plant Hypericum, after Hypernicus, the father of western medicine and the first “doctor”. This was because, for herbalists, then as is now, St. John’s is the first healer to call on, for many ailments. Like the sun, He heals flesh and nerves, and purifies decay within the body. This plant was so valued as a wound healer, that battles were fought at a time and in relation to the location of flowering Hypericum. The power to dictate when and where battles would take place might seem far-fetched, but at that time it might be the difference between losing half the men in the village versus only losing a few. Death from war was not as glorious as its Hollywood portrayal or as we might imagine; being cut down in an open field and dying quickly. Most people died long after the battle, suffering in pain from infection and septic. For those people, St. John’s was undeniably a miraculous blessing and cure.

St. John’s Wort is not only a majestic healer and powerful alchemist, but is a spiritual activist. Like this plant’s namesake Saint John the Baptist, He’s the first to stand up, to spread the word of the holy, the miraculous, the healing power of the Earth and Sun.

The power of the sun, seen in the bright yellow, five petalled flower, can also bring light to those who are under the cloud of depression or Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD). Because of this, St. John’s has often been referred to by the media as the “Herbal Prozac”. As the ancients knew, and modern studies are showing, our brains and our guts are linked in many ways. So it’s not surprising that St. John’s Wort also helps harmonize our digestive track.

In other folklore, the cross of the branching structure represents the cross of Christ. I see the stalks as the hard-tight nerves that St. John’s can treat. The holes in the leaves have always been seen as one of St. John’s medicinal signatures. The openings or perforations in the leaf equate to His ability to heal cuts and holes in the body (and soul). For me, the perforated leaves are like a veil between dimensions, and the holes are portals from which the procreative spirit of life can flow into our world, or into our tea or tincture, any time of the year.

A couple of days ago, the St. John’s Wort was perfect for harvesting. The harvest day for St. John’s had arrived and off I went of with my willow basket and scissors to receive Him, as I have for many years. St. John’s sometimes mysteriously arrives or vanishes from an area, but generally if He is needed and honoured He stays in certain ranges on the land for decades. I did my prayer to court His spirit before I went hunting for Him. As I walked through the woods back to the area where I thought He was growing I thought of how thankful I was for Him, how He had helped me, and so many others through me. After a little walk I came out of the forest into the open field and right there in front of me were a hundred or so plants. Some were a little too far along and some not far enough along, so in the end I probably only harvested about 25%. You can sustainably harvest about 50% of mature flowering St. John’s Wort.

After harvesting for a while, I got to the end of the patch I’d thinned out. I was still in harvest-mode, with scissors in hand I started wandering forward looking for more, heading to where another sizeable patch that had been at the back of the field, not far from the first patch. But, in the rush of harvesting I’d slipped from the sacred place of being a hunter, and courting Him with prayers as I searched. I walked and walked and got to the end of the field and beyond without seeing the patch. This patch had always been at the trailside on a little hill, impossible to miss. St. John’s Wort is two feet tall with sun bright yellow flowers, it’s hard to miss even when you’re not looking for them. A little confused, I turned and started walking back home. I suddenly realized I’d been walking with the metal scissors in my hand out in front of me. I immediately knew this was an ‘offensive’ mistake to the Spirit of St. John’s, and in wildcrafting protocol (not to mention safety). I put the scissors away and prayed for forgiveness from St. John’s. As I resumed my search, I once again held the healing intentions in my mind. I walked with the spirit of all those I have helped with this miraculous plant, including myself. I had just start to walk back and right there off to the left of the path was a huge patch, that had completely alluded me only moments before. My focus had been in the wrong place, just focused on “taking” my harvest and not thankfulness and the need for healing. When I saw the huge patch that seemed to have just appeared, it took my breath away. I knelt and prayed because I was given, yet again, the gift of seeing how powerful my herbal allies are. St. John’s Wort is akin to the spirits of the land and truly embodies the procreative spirit of the Earth and the Sun.

Our most distant ancestors used St. John’s Wort to heal wounds, both internal and external. Without Him we would not be here now! Our debt to this humble plant who has traveled here with us from distant Eurasian lands is most well paid by giving Him homage, and by not cutting Him down with the long grass on lawns, fields and hedgerows where He grows wild. If you are going to learn about one plant, let it be St. John’s. Learn how to court this one, He is the first Healer.

Young dryad’s saddle, just starting to grow

From Wikipedia: The name “dryad’s saddle” refers to creatures in Greek mythology called dryads who could conceivably fit and ride on this mushroom, whereas the pheasant’s back analogy derives from the pattern of colours on the bracket matching that of a pheasant’s back.

Dryad’s Saddle are often described as having a melon-like smell, which I would agree with. Fresh smelling. They are wonderfully dynamic in their cooked flavour, and I love their texture. When preserved, they take on a rubbery type texture, so keeps well for a long time without degrading in quality. And while rubbery may not be the most appealing sounding texture, when you eat it, it is tender and not at all rubbery.

Underside of dryad’s saddle

They usually start to show up at our place in June, mostly on dead or dying elms and Manitoba Maples. Sometimes finding them can be it’s own adventure, as they seem to like growing near the base of the tree, or inside hollow areas. The good news is that once you find a spot where they grow, you’ll see them everywhere, and know where to look. They’ll also appear for years in the same place, so you’ll build on your crop as the years go and you figure out how you like to eat them.

Many people seem to dismiss this mushroom as not being good to eat, but ultimately like a lot of wild foods, requires some creativity and experimentation to see what might work to bring out their unique qualities.

Dryad’s Saddle at a good stage for eating

This bracket fungi is a recent one that we’ve branched out on eating more of. It’s excellent if you saute it up in thin slices in butter with garlic, but you have to catch it at just the right time. I have found it a very narrow window of when they are edible this way, as they have a cute little wormy that like to live in the undersides and takes over quickly. You can always cut or scrape off the porous underside layer if the wee ones are present, that’s where they like to hang out the most.

After some investigation, I found a number of recipes and ways that I could preserve them when they’re perfect, and when they’re not.

Dryad’s saddle sliced and drying in the oven. Later, we’ll grind it and add to spice blends

None of these are my recipes that I created and while I made some changes (mostly using herbs that I had on hand when I may not have had what was suggested).

The first one I tried was making the dryad’s saddle shoyu from the Noma cookbook 3 years ago. A shoyu is a fermented soy sauce, and this recipe required rice inoculated with koji rice, which you can buy from asian grocery stores pre-made.

Here’s Forager Chef’s version with some great modifications:

https://foragerchef.com/pheasant-back-fermented-soy-sauce/

This condiment is tasty, and continues to mature and change flavours. I have used it mostly as a marinade for meats, or added into soups or sauces to bring a hearty umami flavour, especially to vegan dishes.

The next year I came across many recipe ideas from Forager Chef. In generally, his recipes are well tested, well written and explained. I highly recommend his work, and his book just came out!

Dryad’s Saddle past a good eating stage but still good for broth or ketchup

Here’s the ones I made, along with some of his info on this beauty:

DRYAD’S SADDLE

Pickled Dryad saddle Mushrooms

I love these pickled mushrooms!! I made a bunch of jars 2 years ago and they’re still great texture. I love adding them on top of soups, salads or in sushi. Very versatile and great flavour.

Dryad Saddle Relish

This is also a winner. It’s so good on a veggie or meat burger, on top of steamed veggies.. Yum.

Wild Mushroom Ketchup

Did you know that ketchup used to refer to many other condiments than tomato ketchup? One of the oldest European ketchup recipes is made with mushrooms. This recipe is a great use for the ends that are to tough, and you add salt until you have enough bulk to make the recipe. So delicious. I have used this tons to add complexity to many things when you don’t have time for it. Brings a richness of flavour to soups, marinades, anything that evokes a long simmering soup.

This recipe for mushroom ketchup I ended up using way more as a mariande mostly, and is much more accessible in terms of not needing any special ingredients, which many of the recipes in the Noma cookbook require (where the shoyu recipe came from). If you already have koji rice on hand, or are feeling adventurous, the shoe is a fun condiment to make and will last you years. The flavours will continue to mature and change as time goes on, as it’s a living food.

Soup Stock

For this recipe, you can use older mushrooms, they still make great stock. I just cut them up and simmer for a couple of hours and then drain, sometimes just having it as is with noodles and veggies. Experiment with adding in garlic, onions, other veggies… it’s a dynamic and tasty start to soups.

As with many wild foods, you may be concerned about the little bugs. These ones don’t seem to crawl out if you leave them, like morels. They like the spongey layer, so you can always scrape or cut this part off.

This year I’m trying fermenting these ones, as Pascal Baudar does in his book, ‘Wildcrafted Fermentation’.

Here’s the recipe and info he shared on his instagram page that he made with oyster mushrooms, but I bet would work just as well with the dryad’s saddle.

“The end product will be transformed in many ways, some will be dehydrated to make a sour/tangy/spicy jerky or mixed in soups. Part of the content will be turned into savory paste and the smaller mushrooms will be served mixed with homemade wild mustard and pickled seeds so it has a bit of vinegar flavors. I’ll also make some powder after dehydration to make instant “sour” soups with dried seaweed, acorn miso and so on.

Super easy to do. The larger mushrooms are cut in layers and the smaller ones are left as is. Steamed for 15 minutes, cooled down then ready to ferment.

For this jar I had 1 pound and 4 oz (567 g) of steamed mushrooms. For the fermentation I used:

A bit more than 2 teaspoons of salt (13 g)

2 minced garlic cloves

2 teaspoons of honey

1/2 teaspoon smoked Jalapeno powder

3 tablespoons active sauerkraut juice (as starter) – basically the brine of a young active ferment (3-4 days old)

2 teaspoons wild herbs mix (You can use Italian herbs or Herbes de Provence).

Add around 1/3 cup of water

Place everything in a quart jar and close the lid. I monitor the fermentation, shake the jar 2 or 3 times a day and burp as necessary. I ferment it at room temperature for 10 days then place in the fridge where it will keep for months.

I’m also thinking of a ceviche type dish for some of the shrooms with lime juice, spices, fresh peppers.

So many possibilities and such a neat way to preserve the winter harvest. So far fermentation as worked with oyster mushrooms, baby cremini and button, shiitake and beech mushrooms. I so wish I could find some matsutake to try!”

Would love to hear what you try and how you use it!

Our deepest most resonant myths and stories come from the land. Meaning they come from our mammalian experience of day to day living in a physical ecology, and from our travels through time in that changing landscape. The passing days and seasons are the narrator of our story in the Northern and Southern Hemispheres, driving the plot forward. And I imagine even in places where the weather changes very little from month to month, the flowering plants still all have their cycles, so they would come to define time and the story of the people there.

You’ve heard the axiom, “to all things there is a season...” but its meaning is only vaguely implied and may seem like just an abstract principle. Yet it could not be more specific, and like gold its meaning is untouched by the passage of time. Nothing could be more important to know than what season you’re in, in your life or when you’re living on the land. Without it we don’t know when to plant or when to harvest. It is our story line, our map of time, and without knowing the story we are cast adrift in an endless tumbling sea of possibility and dreadful realities.

I’ve been honouring the four Manitous (spirits of the directions) for forty some years and their teachings are still coming to me and helping me so I thought I would pass this on for this time of year. Every spring (which technically starts March 21) the fast-hold of the northern manitou, that has frozen everything into dark disembodied dreams of winter, breaks. The sap begins to flow back into the Maples and the creeks start to flow again even before the snow’s gone. By May, life has fully flowed back into the land and She in Her myriad of forms has awakened. Like blood flowing back into a blanched face, the land flushes green once again with life. And all possibilities, all potentials swell and open like flowers, in hope of being confirmed. And in doing so form the seeds to be born again into this reality perpetuating the cycle of life and fertility. On the land here every flowering plant holds the potential of creating a fruit to perpetuate itself into the future of this reality. Our first fruit, Wild Strawberries embody the maturation of this innocent ambition and its purity. This is why they are used medicinally for the heart and blood and ceremonially to cleanse and replenish. At this time of year our hearts should feel full, juicy and sweet like the strawberry. Filled like the rest of creation with joy, filled with lust for life again. This period of time in our personal story and the story of the land, where anything is possible and reality is filled with the radiance of spring energy, is only meant to last for a brief time, a few weeks in May.

During this time all the flowers hold the potential for perpetuation and future wealth of the land. But then the season turns, and that potential is heavily pruned. Like the multiple shoots of potential on a tree, each story is left to keep growing or cut from its path in time. The purity and hopefulness of the spring, in its maturation, passes through something like a birth canal to the next season. And in the passage there is loss. A late frost, as the potentiated fruit sets, can cause the fruit to drop. Or as commonly as not these years, we get a month long drought in the late spring and all the wild fruit dries up. These miraculous plants know when to let go of their hopes for fruit until the next cycle, in order to preserve their energy to live on. As the drought comes one fruit at a time is lost, the same as their ripening order. First the strawberries, in their tender innocence have so little resilience. A late frost or a week of scorching heat will dry up their flowers and snuff their fruit. If the drought continues then the others follow in order; Pin cherries, Service berries, Gooseberries and Choke cherries, Blue berries, Plums, Black cherry and Haws, Raspberries and black berries. And somewhere in the mix is our domestic polycultural orchard filled with Pears and Apples. I pray we are blessed with their abundance every year, but in such turbulent environmental times this has become only a dream. Under today’s environmental pressures we clearly see the need for diversity of plants and in the landscape. That way something always works out, being more suited to the conditions of the season.

And this happens often now.

If there are no late frosts and enough rain, and the fruit grows, there are still a gambit of challenges that come with summer before that wealth can be claimed. There are pathogens of many kinds like insects, fungi and mold that want the fruit. And then there are the birds and mammals. So even in good years as the seasons turn the net of that spring potential can be pared back.

To a grower, forager and lover of Nature this process of watching the fertility of the land dry up can be devastating. And it happens almost every year now! What can mitigate the devastation and grief around the loss is seeing and knowing you and everything else are part of the bigger story being told by the four Manitous.

We don’t have to be crushed when we are unable to manifest a dream. We can learn not to hold onto our dreams or the potential of these (spring) moments in our life too tightly. To enjoy them for what they are knowing everything will change. To lightly hold the dream like a flower out to the sun, but also be willing to let it whither when the time has passed. To follow the story of the seasons and not work against them. And while in the season the unseasonal changes can be disturbing, the bigger story has a rhythm and is still predictable. We try to control the small seasons in our life with contracts and ownership, of people and manufactured stuff but it never works. Real security and peace only comes when we know nothing is actually changing in the big picture, the cycles are eternal.

Because these patterns will not change, because we can’t change a fated story line, the only choice we really have is in how we see and react to the change. We can accept or even embrace the natural entropy of life, our aging and the decline of the season. Or we can get stuck in our attachment to peak moments, to our dreams and imaginings, and live on in a shadowed land filled with resentments and regrets.

At each turning when the beauty of one season passes through the canal into the next season, into the next chapter of the story, there will be a loss as well as maturation of other potentials that will live on to the next season. Knowing the story helps us accept the seasons and what they bring. But it doesn’t end there. When we know the story we become part of it, and because we are involved we may in fact be able to change parts of the pattern if not the outcome. This isn’t magic, or any kind of magic we don’t know. It’s like when you root for your team or the underdog and give our energy to them, sometimes they win because of that little extra mojo we gave them! Sometimes the ancestors and Gods listen to our prayers. So for me knowing the story also means knowing who to send energy toward or channel it away from.

For example with each seasonal passage, the equinox and solstices, I have prayers where I am thankful for the gifts of the coming season (that I know well having lived here for decades), and give gifts and prayers to the spirits that orchestrate the lands fecundity. I do this in order to ‘seed’ a fruitful future. I also do more spontaneous ceremony and prayers to the players in the moment like to plants or a bird or insect or the rain makers. As well as making offerings to appease spirits or shadow energies so they don’t have to physically manifest.

Growing up with western materialism you might think my prayers are just superstitious. But for me and for tens (if not hundreds) of thousands of years, all our ancestors believed and proved over time that it’s worth making these spiritual actions to seed the future or balance harm. For many ancient and indigenous cultures, our spiritual actions are the same as how we are act in tending to the land’s physical needs. There is no difference in a non-materialistic culture. We seed some things, cull others and harvest in thankfulness as each divine gift of food and medicine’s time comes due.

These realities parted ways and the deeper meaning of our existence here on Earth was lost, when we shifted our thinking to a monotheistic material reality through christianity and then science. But to save this world we must once again come to be married to Her. And in so doing marry the unseen forces that can bring fecundity to land and guide our daily actions.

I’ve been reading Martin Shaw’s “Scatterlings”. The message is a wise old one, that “what we’re searching far and wide for, turns out to be actually right where we live”. What I resonate with in Martin’s book is, because we’re in a cultural/technological trance we can’t see or access this deep, nourishing relationship with the land. We fly all over the world looking for this thing that we’re missing, chasing after this or that trend, rather than staying where we are, and burrowing into the present. By living in a deep way with the land, in a “nest” of presence, we come to know and be connected with the plants, animals and land Herself, as a living mythical being. One that embodies the secrets of our ancient past, and whispers out morning’s misty spells to create each day anew. When we are not present, we are someplace else. We find the nourishment and inspiration to really “be” at home where we live, through coming to experience Her mythical dimensions.

These are all things I deeply believe and have lived for more then thirty years. Ironically though, this winter I travelled for the first time in many years. And what I realized was, I may have the opposite problem to the seekers and wonderers. Which is, I’m so focused on these realities of the land, it’s very hard for me to get out and leave. I don’t mean, I’m afraid to go out or that it’s hard for me to leave my work. Rather, I feel so involved with the story and attached to the land, it’s hard to imagine it won’t all collapse when I stop listening and leave, or that it will be there when I come back. It feels like I’m walking out on my Grandmother, part way through her story. Even in February when she seems to be napping, the plot moves forward.

Yet, sometimes we’ve got to go. We’re called out, or the cage of our life gets too tight. This winter, the family and I went on a month long road-trip/book-tour down the Eastern Seaboard to the very tip of Florida. A small thing for most folks I imagine. But for two Taurus’s, who haven’t travelled in ten years since they had kids, it felt like pulling out a stump. In the weeks before we left, the pushing, pulling and hacking of our ties, to get us lose, began in earnest. As the day of departure was approaching, it felt like the main tap root we were pulling on was directly rooted into my gut. The pain increased with each day until I couldn’t sleep or eat well. When I went to the bathroom my stool was black. If you haven’t been eating blood pudding, this generally means there’s bleeding in your digestive tract. Not a good sign.

Before the pain, and seeing signs of blood in my digestive track, I had been thinking ‘gallbladder/liver’ because my digestion seemed really off. I had been taking bitters for my liver, and celandine once (which is very toxic) for my gall bladder, but these digestives weren’t helping as they have before. After suffering through another long sleepless night, on the morning of departure, fearing I might end up in a U.S. hospital without health insurance, I went to our local hospital. They couldn’t tell me what it was but the doctor thought it was most likely a bleeding stomach ulcer, which they can’t do anything for. They told me to watch for fever or other signs of infection and gave me prescriptions for tranquilizers and antacid. I never had to take either.

Once I realized that the problem was my stomach, and there was likely a bleeding (maybe infected) ulcer, and that it wasn’t my liver or gallbladder, my intuition immediately brought me to Plantain. No, not the banana, but the lowly herb. Sometimes, when we think “I know”, it gets in the way of our intuition telling us what we really need.

It’s always amazing when you think you know a herb and have used it for years, but then realize a whole new side of her. This has happened to me many times. Just like people, when they join in to heal or change something, whole new sides of them emerge that we have never seen. When I called on many of my herbal healers for help with Lyme disease, I came to know Teasel, Bee Balm, Boneset, Dandelion, Burdock, Cleavers, Sarsaparilla and many others, in a new way because of the more acute situation. These plants and thousands of others have so many hidden gifts to offer us when we are in need and ready to receive them. These herbs are gifts from the Gods to both sustain our health, and heal us in an acute situation.

Plantain, Plantago major, has followed in the wake of colonization as a healing balm. A balm to heal the wounds to the Earth inflicted by horse and cart, and heavy soled shoes. And, a balm for wounds to human and animal alike. The juice, tea or poultices of the green leaf has miraculous properties as an antiseptic, anti-inflammatory and analgesic. Ribwort is one of Plantain’s common names, and a key to its traditional use. The ribs, which run the length of the leaves, signify how she pulls out toxins, stops bleeding and heals wounds. She pulls the pain and the toxins from the cut and sews it safely closed, free of infection. Thankfully, I’ve know plantain for many decades, and used her topically for every kind of bite to take both the pain and the itch away. As well as for boils, burns (sun and fire), rash (including diaper rash and shingles), mastitis and other infections. I’ve sold plantain to people in Central and South America because it’s in great demand there for use in healing internal aliments, including cirrhosis of the liver. But I had never worked with her myself for internal problems. Plantain is also well known as a lung remedy.

At our farm we wild cultivate her so we can harvest leaves for salad in spring, in early summer for cooked greens, late summer for medicine and we collect the seed in the fall for food. We add it as a part of a wild seed mix that supplements our flours. This highly nutritious oily seed is related to psyllium to she aids in digestion and elimination.

I made a good strong tea/soup and drank it for the first few days we were on the road, eating the leaves and all. I ate the seed in bread, and my morning porridge. And, I did tincture throughout those first “acute” days and afterward in smaller amounts for the remainder of the month long road trip. Within a day or two I was completely better, no more signs of blood or pain.

Like that healing wasn’t enough, she still had more gifts for me. In the extended use of this powerful herb I came to realize; not only is she a healer for the travel beaten roads of the Earth, and the wounds to, and within, our bodies, but the deeper mystery of why she has travelled with us for over nine thousand years. We brought her with us from Asia and the Northern Steppes of Europe, because she is a talisman of the traveler. Her presence and use as a tea, tincture or food has aided us, as immigrants, to humbly blending in with the new place in a useful way (and not aggressively colonize). And she’s given us the toughness to be stepped on and still thrive in diverse conditions. We can also look to her for the ability to quickly form roots that can draw from and transform poor over-compressed ground, where the displaced often find themselves.

Contained in what is the most common of plants, we step on every day, is both a food staple (of greens and grain) and miraculous multifaceted healer.

It’s somehow fitting that this gift who has been with us for thousands of years, so often goes unseen. As we grow up, we’re always told to “look up” and “look ahead”, to keep our “head high” and “chin up”, but really maybe we should be teaching our kids to “look down”, “look what your stepping on”, “look at what sustains and heals us”.

An ancient companion and mysterious healer is growing by your doorstep, don’t miss the chance to introduce yourself to divinity.

I wanted to share a couple of things that happened last week which illustrates how just a small amount of receptivity or openness can impact our lives, health, community and our planetary connection.

I had a client last week who told me her journey with herbalism started from a talk I gave where I was speaking about the gifts of Mullein. She’s in her seventies and had been having problems with a lingering lung ailment, so after my talk she went and bought Mullein from a reputable source and took it as a tea. It worked so well to clear and heal her lungs she became evangelical and began converting other older people in her community into believers of Mullein, many of whom had chronic lung issues. And, those friends after being healed passed the knowledge of this plant onto younger people like their children and grandchildren. She said these folks were always coming back to her and thanking her and telling her how it helped them and how they’d passed it on. Such a simple, amazing and hopeful story! Herbal knowledge can spread that easily, and be reclaimed as a multigenerational legacy just like that. And the herbs are “free” and just waiting to be recognized and asked for help. It’s just waiting to happen. But that little bit of receptivity, of fertile soil to help the seed grow is essential.

The other factor in this story is Mullein. Mullein is an ambassador to the world of herbal healers. Everyone knows Mullein whether you think you do or not. You know Mullein and have looked right at it many times even if you don’t know the plant’s name. Mullein’s head-height erect flowering stalk of the second year plants calls our attention from a hundred yards. When we wander over to have a closer look, the plants in their basal first year form surround the elders. These are so beautiful with their fibonacci pattern of emerging leaves and soft plush lamb’s ear-like texture that cup the rain or morning dew.

This story of herbs and healing only came back to me because my new client who heard me speak four years ago only now needed a herbal consultation. I’ve been teaching for forty years, hundreds of people, so how many others who have heard me (or anyone) teach about plants have generated the same experience? Of being a conduit for this ancient healing knowledge, that is a living mystery surrounding our lives, and which generally goes unseen or spoken of.

Also in the last week I heard about two people close in my life that were scheduled for medical procedures. One for gallbladder removal, one for a heart operation. Sadly, these folks were not open even a little bit to some simple herbal advice. Not open to me or the idea of herbs enough for them to trust me and listen for one minute. From treating myself and countless other folks for gallbladder blockage and heart irregularities I feel in both cases the surgery could have been avoided if they had just been willing to try a herb for a couple weeks. This is very frustrating and tragic in my mind because I can see they believe so deeply in the monolithic medical establishment that they trapped themselves in a dead end, but in reality there was such a simple solution in both cases.

Celandine for gallbladder blockages is miraculous. Hawthorn for heart ailments equally so. That herb and dietary changes may have been all that was needed for a lasting non-invasive, no risk solution. If they had been open to those plants they’d be cured by spring. And on recommendation this summer they’d be growing or looking for those plants in the wild. When these connections are made with the plant people it’s like a miracle, so one wants to tell their children, grandchildren and caregivers every time they see the plant. And they’d likely treasure and protect those places on the land where they grow. Win, win, win, win. But in this case, as it actually happened, the medical establishment and Pharma industry gets all the glory, and payment of tax payers money and government support in the tens of thousands of dollars. The plants and the earth get nothing but industry waste, and the community just gets more dependent on these industries, and convinced of their omnipotence. This is a win (you might be better after the operation), lose, lose, lose situation.

Most herbal remedies and treatments are very simple and extremely low risk. It’s always worth a try in my opinion. Herbs always have a place. If not as the sole treatment then adjacent and supportive to the allopathic treatment. When you are learning through books or you are advised by someone who is new to using herbs you can get things wrong, and the herbs might not work, but it’s extremely unlikely they will make things worse. You can also get crappy quality herbs, and unless you use enough of them they also might not work. So herbs don’t work all the time for everyone, but they are very inexpensive (compared to pharmaceuticals) and super low risk. They’re low risk because herbs have been healing us for much longer than recorded history. For as long as we have existed as a species. Many if not all animals self medicate using herbs. So when we use herbs we are part of a much bigger much larger continuum of healing. Their growth and production helps the environment (pollination, food for wildlife, reconditioning the land, fixing carbon). They are safe because we literally evolved with them. As opposed to pharmaceuticals made from chemicals of altered petroleum based molecules, for which no long term testing has been done. And whose production and by-products can harm the planet and other mammals, like with birth control and antibiotics found in many cities’ waste water. That goes largely unspoken of and is an ongoing public health disaster.

The only way change can happen is if we get up and step forward and do something to create a spell of hope and connection that can break through and dispel the patterns of submission we are caught in. If you can find a few herbs in your area, even in the city, that you can interact with in their domain and harvest, you are turning your energy away from the monolithic medical industry and casting a spell of connection to the earth and ancestral reclamation.

Plant sale! Send us a message with your order: megan@thesacredgardener.ca
We’re located in Golden lake, HERE

Pick up days at the farm:

May 23 and 24 10-3

or connect with another time if this doesn’t work.

From Steven:

As a herbalist I mostly use local plants, but there are half a dozen that I make an exception for!

And I grow them. Some years I grow too many and have extras to sell in the spring.

Many herbs have small seeds that take a couple months just to get to a size where they will grow quickly. Because some of these herbs are tropical they also need a longer season to mature for harvest. So I started most of these 2-3 months ago.

Andrographis

Aerial parts are botanical powerhouse from India. Boost immunity, antibiotic, antiviral, anti-fungal/yeast, anti-inflammatory, anti-cancer, balances blood sugar, helps gut health and cognitive function.

Very low dose needed. Central in the treatment of Lyme disease. Andro looks kinda wimpy, but when you taste it you see, it packs a wallop. One of the world’s more bitter plants (as indication of medicinal worth). I had a very good crop of Andro two years ago but am almost out of tincture, so grew it again. It’s tricky to start, this is a zone 9 plant so it hates the cold. It can handle partial shade but likes most decent moist soils. (it’s fussy but grows well during the summer). Only gets a couple feet tall and foot wide. Could be grown indoors. I covered mine into the late summer but it wasn’t really worth it, it barely grew. Hates the cold.

88- 2”. $4

Tulsi (Holy Basil)-

Aerial parts used as Culinary, immune boosting, anti-inflammatory, eliminates spike proteins, balances blood sugar, regulates cholesterol and blood pressure, neuro-cognitive and mood balancing. Grows well and hardy, with full sun and good soil will get 3’ tall.

6- 2” $4

Ashwaganda

Root helps with, stress, anxiety, fatigue, sleep, mood, neuro-cognitive, heart health, male fertility, regulates hormone levels, anti-inflammatory, anti-cancer, cholesterol, blood sugar.

Nightshade that is hardy, considering it’s from India, needs a long season and decent soil to produce good size root.

6- 4” $4

Artemisia Annua

Aerial parts for immune system, digestion, anti-cancer, blood sugar, anti malarial, anti-parasite and used by millions as successful treatment for Covid 19 in India and Africa. Grows well here zone 3b as perennial if mulched.

40- 2” $4

Perilla

Aerial parts are Culinary, strongly anti-inflammatory, allergies, asthma, antiviral, anticancer, neuro-protective effects against dementia, regulates inflammatory response, lower stress, anti-depression. From China so it’s tropical but grows like Basil.

60- 2” $4

Thai basil

culinary, anti-inflammatory, aids with digestion, supports immunity, stress support

40- 2” $4

Basil

20- 2” $4

Violets

Used for almost all skin ailments, respiratory, lymphatic, anti-inflammatory, allergies, pain relieving

12 -small clump of mature violet plants (that will spread over lawn or forest floor), perennial,

4” pot $8

Heart ease

detoxificant, skin ailments, digestive, anti-cancer, respiratory.

small annual but sometimes self seeds into the next years

12- 1” pots $4

Motherwort
4” pot $8

Nettle
4” pot $8

We harvest spruce tips in the spring to pickle, dry for tea and infuse in salts. We freeze them too for future baking.

Today I’m making salt, here’s how we do it.

Ingredients: new spruce shoots, sea salt, time

For this we use the bigger shoots, but while they’re still tender. Spring is a quick time, you need to watch them, they can explode from barely there to full grown in days depending on the weather. We’ve had years where it’s a cool long spring and they can stay at the perfect stage for a week or more, totally weather dependant and variable, just like spring.

I measure this recipe, not weigh. Though I should try that sometime!

I use equal amounts of whole spruce tips and fine sea salt.

So, I have in this case 6 litres of whole spruce tips, not packed, just put them in loose. A large glass measuring cup is perfect for this job (a hugely used item in our house)

6 litres of fine salt.

Then, I blend them up together in my food processor. Add salt in first to the bottom with every round, as the tips will stick and not blend as well I find. You don’t need to be precise here, just layer salt and spruce tips, some salt on top can help the blend the tips more finely.

Blend together until the spruce tips are well blended with the salt and small, this is how I like them. Other people prefer it more chunky, all in the preference.

Have on hand a large mixing bowl that will fit your final product. Add each batch to this bowl and don’t worry about inconsistency of each, you’ll mix it all together at the end so it’s even. Also, at this point if the bits seem too big, you can reblend, or you can blend the salt when it’s dry, which will make the whole product finer, including the salt.

At this point I add it to baking trays to dry, about an inch thick. I like to air dry mine, but this totally depends on the season and the weather. If it’s consistency warm or hot in your house that’s perfect. Damp days the salt will rehydrate. If this is the case, put in in the oven at the lowest temperature (ours is 150F) and put a wooden spoon in the door to keep it ajar. This keeps it from getting too hot, which will bake off much of the flavour.

I prefer air drying because I find the flavour more dynamic. The oven dried one is still incredible, just doesn’t have the same alchemical process I feel.

Also, the slower it dries, the more likely your spruce tips will brown, which does not affect the flavour but does affect the presentation. If this happens, it’s still good! If you prefer the tips stay more green , you’ll have better luck with this if you oven dry them.

Either way, while you dry, you need to visit them occasionally and mix it up again, from the corners where it will dry first, into the middle. This will help make a cohesive product and move the drying process along.

Depending on the weather, this can be a day or two or a week. I judge the finished product by feel. Once it’s deemed fully dry, get it into a jar with a lid on it, to help prevent reabsorption of moisture.

Store in a cool dry place, out of the light if you made a lot. If you just have a smaller amount, keep it out so you use it! Try it on everything, but we love it as seasoning salt for baked fish, added into soups, on top of cheese and crackers… Anything!

Seems to elevate the salt to another level, bringing the wild generosity of spruce with it.

In this episode Steven speaks with herbalist Christine Dennis.
Christine is an eco-psychospiritual herbalist, with a Master of Science (MSc.) degree in Herbal Medicine, with a focus on the Goethean Methodology, from the University of Wales in the UK. She is a current Professional Member (RH) and past president of the Ontario Herbalists Association as well as a member of the National Institute of Medical Herbalists (MNIMH) in the UK.

Here’s the show notes:

2:35 : Steven asks Christine about how she came to call herself an eco-psychospiritual herbalist and how this is important in filtering who comes as a client
5:30 Christine shares what the Goethean Methodology is in herbalism, which she learned from the University of Wales in the UK, helping people to connect with plants
8:25 An example of how a plant, in this case the black cap raspberry, can call to you when you are in need of their medicine, their remedies show up when you need them
11:50 Our job as herbalists to help us connect to our deep inner nature
12:38 Was there a specific event or illness that brought you to herbalism? Christine share how her journey into plant medicine began
17:30 There were signs before this though, drinking kava with elders in Fiji
20:40 Steven and Christine share a common kava experience and how it can ground as well as connect us to the ether
21:41 How Valerian shares similar attributes to Kava
22:30 Steven asks Christine about her passion for Astrology and what’s happening in the skies right now (recorded April 17, 2026). New moon in Aries and what that means. Dissolving and Emergence
26:26 We’re in transition but we’re still just seeing the decay, now is the time to plant the seeds of what you want to see grow
29:34 What Christine loves about Astrology
31:18 Astrology helps us recognize we’re right where we’re supposed to be, can help us be ok with chaos
32:15 The stars are our inner nature, relation to archetypes
33:43 Clarifying that Christine is not a medical astrologer and explains her approach using a client’s natal chart
37:00 Evolutionary Astrology is what Christine is really called to which deals with why are we here and what are we meant to be doing and why symptoms are coming up in a client’s body
39:25 How crisis and collapse can be an anchor to reconnect you and call you to share your core desire
41:57 Reconnecting with the same plants you already know on a deeper level, they keep teaching us
44:35 Why it’s important to know your ascendant and not just your sun sign
47:13 The land called Christine home
49:00 Christine’s practice shifting towards connecting to the cosmos and how that connects us to the earth
50:54 Christine’s upcoming new course ‘Archetypal Study of Nature’ where she will work with astrological archetypes and looking to identify these archetypes in nature, along with study of these in the self, coming up in July

In awe of the Mystery, as a vitalist, death doula, ceremonialist, astrologer and amateur naturalist, thus a lover of Nature and the Cosmos and the cycles of Life, and having a blend of bio-medical, traditional, energetic (5 elements) and mystical herbal medicine experience, Christine is an eclectic and integrative practitioner. Christine holds certificates in IFIO & IFS -informed therapy (Intimacy From the Inside Out – for couples, & Internal Family Systems models of psychotherapy), after having first been introduced to this approach by ayahuasca in a ceremony over 15 yrs ago. She has 25+ years of hands-on experience in the field, seeing patients, facilitating health education and personal transformative experiences.

Living at the end of a dirt road, surrounded by trees, gardens and nature, right next to the forest, and under the canopy of the magnificent and humbling heavens, it is here that Christine works and dwells in the edges.

Did you miss our live QnA session with Steven? Here’s the link to view:

Register for Sacred Gardener School

Is the Sacred Gardener School for you?

This school is for you if:
You want to be taken on a journey into your ancestral Earth culture,
You want to live in harmony with the plants and animals and spirits of the land,
You want your scope of history to expand and to know where we’re now in all that,
You want to have deep meaningful sharing and relations with others,
You want to learn extensively about harvesting wild food and medicine in a very hands on and memorable way,
You want to learn how to feed and heal yourself, your family and friends,
You want a sovereignty and independence from the industrial systems,
You want to learn about feeding the earth and growing food in a way that enriches the land through integrated polyculture,
You want to learn about preparing, storing and cooking food from the land,
You want to learn about fermentation and how to make, beer, wine, kraut kimchi, bread, yogurt, miso,
You want to go deeper than deep ecology, deeper than permaculture,
You want to bring peace to your life by recovering and feeding your ancestral connections,
You want to understand and learn how to do ritual and ceremony,
You want to be more connected to the Earth.

The Sacred Gardener School is a ‘hedgerow school’ that teaches how to cherish and live in balance with the green and unseen worlds that surround us. We find the way back to wholeness through new historical and archetypal understandings of the past. Through initiatory experiences in the ancient arts of herbalism, healing and ceremony. And through in-depth work and observation while foraging and gardening we can all find the sacred road.

The program at The Sacred Gardener School consists of 4 – Five-day intensives, over two years. The fee is for two sessions (one year at a time) includes all teachings, your camping spot and all meals created from food grown or foraged on the land here, or from ethical producers nearby, handcrafted by Megan & helpers. Option to stay indoors in our hand made timberframe house available for an extra fee.

“The Sacred Gardener School has reconnected me to a sacred magic my childhood self longed for. It has created ripple effects of healing and growth that reach deep into my psyche and far out into the world around me. Steven and Megan have cultivated a portal through dark uncertainty into a future that contains the spark of life. My experience has been indispensable, and I would recommend anyone that resonates with the ideas of the program to enroll if they are able!” - Rosemary

The Philosophy of Sacred Gardener School

Sacred Gardener School is for those inspired to move into a deeper level of being; to live in a connected, sustainable and soulfully present way with the Earth. The school will foster your growth over time, enabling you to embody the living skills and ceremony needed to engage the larger spirit and ecology of the Earth, so She may bless and redirect our collective and personal path.

First Session: BACK TO THE GARDEN

Spring: May 6-10, 2026
In the burgeoning spring we learn how to receive wild abundance. This foundational session de-programs us from our colonial paradigm and re-programs us back toward our indigenous soul.

This first session is introductory and foundational for moving into the other sessions. We come together in the burgeoning spring when the first green flush comes out on the land, and when the Earth provides us with a bounty of nurturing and cleansing plants. Which is exactly what our body needs at this time of year after the long winter. Read More

“For me, being at the Sacred Gardener school is coming back to a state of wonder. Each of Steven’s teachings, however big or small, have been continually opening my perspective to the mysteries of being alive. Steven’s teachings are a reminder that the earth is beautiful! From every sunrise, to rainfall, to birdsong, to plant, the world is filled with beautiful announcements and gifts.
When it feels like I’m living in a coldly secular world run by late-capitalist technocrats - a world where it can sometimes feel like I have lost essential parts of myself - coming to the land that Steven and Megan tend has felt urgent and important. This school has helped offer me the kind of enchantment I have needed to find meaning in this modern world. Also the hospitality and food that they offer is an absolute delight!” ~ Jeff

Second Session: ROOTS OF THE DARK GODDESS, FRUITS FROM OUTSIDE OF TIME

Mid summer: August 19-23, 2026
During this mid-summer session we learn the agricultural practices needed at that time. We also go deeper into the world of spirit, through ritually honouring the Dark Goddess and entering our “wound”.

In the second session we go deeper into Earth consciousness, honouring the dark Goddess by entering ‘the wound’. While it seems like summer is still at its peak, at this time of year the land begins to show the first signs of fall and decay, reminding us that the time of fruit and bounty will not only end but is paid for by the dark goddess of decay and disease. Read More

Links to learn more:

The Sacred Gardener School

• The Philosophy of Sacred Gardener School

• First Session: BACK TO THE GARDEN

• Second Session: ROOTS OF THE DARK GODDESS, FRUITS FROM OUTSIDE OF TIME

• Third Session: THE GIFT OF THE FLOWERING WAND

• Fourth Session: CORNUCOPIA OF CULTURE & THE SACRED MASCULINE

• Is the Sacred Gardener School for you? What’s Included, the Cost and FAQ

We look forward to being with you.

With love,

Megan & Steven

I overheard my son chuckling as he said to one of his online buddies, “my dad’s just discovered the internet”. Not true. But to him at 17, scrolling youtube or instagram is the internet. I’ve done research and had email on the internet since the 1980’s from the start. Back when we imagined it was a fad. I also remember we were all wary of it back then because the internet was first developed by the US military. So I’ve always assumed anything I did or said could be monitored because of that connection, perhaps long before our content actually was being looked over. But he’s right that I’ve never dipped into social media or scrolling. Having had a smartphone for less than a year, this media immersion is still all an experiment for me, so I just let it happen. Alarmingly, from scrolling for a couple hours a day for a couple weeks, when I’d normally be watching movies or documentaries at night, I can feel my attention span disappearing. With a diet of those juicy bite sized pieces everything else starts to look like too much work. And at any lull in the day you feel a craving for its dopamine drip of distraction. I get it now why everyone’s hunched over their phone for their own personal parade of one hit wonders and ignoring the less edited un-scored version of actual reality, nature and the people around them.

It’s actually a lot like smoking cigarettes. They both tap into the same neurochemistry, providing dopamine and endorphins. Not sure which is less healthy. Smoking might hurt your lungs and cardiovascular system but scrolling can kill your attention span and motivation; deadly. I know I’m in the dragon’s mouth looking at its teeth now and I’m being as careful as I can be in here. Don’t worry, I also know I’m the addictive type and that this is a real danger for me. I’m still watching some news but I deleted those scrolling apps. At this point I could still just not have a phone and might go back there if I get more fed up with it all. I do like the flashlight though and the camera. So my experiment is complete and the conclusions... scary.

For our business Megan has Instagram and other apps but has put a block on her phone to keep her from scrolling during the day. Ironically, a little help from the phone can help you get off the phone and shift the habit. Which is a reminder that the thing itself is ultimately just a tool, it’s not evil in itself, it’s how this powerful thing is being used that I question. Most people aren’t willing or couldn’t give their phone up like I might, but you can control how you use it. When I was a kid things that were dangerous looked dangerous, like a chainsaw for example. You knew what you were in for as soon as you looked at the thing. Part of the problem we are having is the phone looks so harmless, even sexy, but I think it’s more dangerous than a chainsaw in its hidden capabilities and ability to become such an indispensable part of our life.

All that is to say for better or for worse I feel very connected to world events and the news cycle now. One good thing that’s come of all this media contact is for the first time since I was a kid in 1972 when the Canadian hockey team beat the USSR in the Olympic finals, I’m actually feeling proud to be Canadian. And happy to not be an American. Usually I don’t buy into all that jingoistic stuff but Carney is blowing my mind with his bureaucratic moves and measured response to the whims and tantrums of the little orange monster in charge of the country to the south of us. Let his name not be said lest we evoke his foul rank, coming through the sulphur tendrils of his digital reach.

I’ve never been one to wade in on politics and I don’t think I’ll start now, but I am paying more attention. Like all of us I have limited time and have chosen to focus my time on that which sustains the Earth and myself directly. The hard truth is I’ve never felt motivated to invest anything of myself in politics because I feel the system is hopelessly backward and corrupt. From the start of our colonial history as a nation we have been geared towards a GNP based almost entirely on the exploitation of people and land resources. And no matter who is in power the profited exploits have always flowed back to the higher ups. THIS ISN’T A CONSPIRACY, ITS BEEN THE SYSTEM FROM THE START. We optimistically call our version “free-enterprise”. Indeed, a ‘free for all’. Back in the day the exploited wealth of timber and beaver pelts flowed back to the King, Queen and Church. Now it’s things like Canada’s oil, minerals and industry that generates the major flow of wealth flowing back to governments, corporations and their oligarchs.

I vote but it’s tricky because why fight over the best captain when the whole ship and all of us are being swept downstream towards a waterfall with such a force that steering seems to have no effect. But that orange menace has forced me to answer that question. We have to be involved because it’s the right thing to do, however futile our little contribution may seem. Our actions seed the future and you don’t know what might grow. I’ve done things and said things that I thought weren’t enough or anything special and then later been told that they changed the course of people’s lives!

That rightness we feel is like magnetism to a pole, it’s in our nature to follow. We can feel what is right and wrong in our bones. That’s why in gambling we throw ‘the bones’ to see what fate will be cast. Our bones hold and channel the truth beyond temporal attachments. We might think this innate sense of what’s right is just about having a threshold of intelligence, but it’s deeper and more universal than that. It comes partially from what we’ve inherited from our ancestors, who also always tried to follow the truth in their hearts. Like looking to the northern star for direction, this truth is and always has been a constant for us to live moment to moment by, generation after generation. But I suppose even this star is just an outer manifestation of the truth. Given tens of thousands of years, stars shift away from the pole and other stars take their place that better align with the earth’s axis. A new truth to guide us to the same unseen pole.

If we surrender to the power of corruption, if we ignore the truth thinking it’s all just subjective opinion and stop fighting, then our spirit leaves us, and our ancestors back away. From ignoring the truth in our bones, our immunity that is generated from the marrow is lost. And from not following the guidance of our heart it’s not surprising that the number one cause of death world wide is heart/cardio disease. We cannot turn from ourselves without dire consequences. The second and more practical reason is it might be worth paying attention and participating in politics is because while we are generally being swept along by the strong flow of corporate domination, the flow of the river is not uniform. There are eddies. And so in times like now when things are spinning around so quickly, spiralling in on themselves, we’re in an eddy and our direction becomes uncertain. That’s when with some effort we can actually change our direction. We’ve had many opportunities to change our direction during this last half century of corporate industrial domination, when things have gone sideways. But at each turn the majority of people have been ‘played’ through media propaganda and colonial programming.

As a culture we’ve shrunk from the challenges, driven back into our fear, trauma and paralysis. The most recent turning from the industrial highway could have been during Covid but instead the highway just got repaved and widened. There was some descension, but much of it became quickly radicalized through the internet toward conspiracy theories. And these protests became quickly too divisive to reasonably question or change the mandatory medical procedures being inflicted on the population. There were some eruptions of activism during this time, like Black Lives Matter and for transgender rights but no leadership or consciousness around individual sovereignty and what was being physically forced on us. The authorities killed any media or word about alternative treatments. Even when it was evident from other countries that herbs like Sweet Annie (Artemisia Annua) had worked for millions of people in Africa and India, this real ‘news’ was also suppressed. Any healing businesses and alternative treatments were closed and websites were shut down if they even said anything about “immunity” or treating covid. That was so fucked. And every fifteen minutes on CBC the national broadcaster they pushed the vaccine agenda. They dove the listeners into a fear response and aggressively attacked anyone who was questioning or not following the directive. Our whole war-like approach to this dark visitor was backward. What could have been a gift was turned into a terrifying monster. We unconsciously repeated the western narrative of battling nature and trying to conquer her with our technology. And it’s worth noting here that this wasn’t just the normal vaccine debate. This was a vaccine that used an RNA reprogrammer. A vaccine that was developed decades ago for the treatment of AIDS, but which was ultimately rejected as unsafe.

If you think we had no choice in how we approached this virulent virus let me explain. I’m not a virologist, but as an apiarist who has taken care of bees for generations I learnt that there are two options for treating bees when you have an ‘epidemic’ pathogen. If you try to kill or control the viruses the host stays vulnerable and you are evolving the pathogen. This leads to a lingering or chronic condition where you keep having to make new poisons to kill the evolving pathogen. By contrast, if you let nature take her course you may have more deaths and damage initially (which in the case of Covid could easily have been managed with herbal protocols), but over a short period of time you increase the group immunity limiting the virus’s strength and effectiveness. When a virus is allowed to run its course it generally happens over a 4 year cycle and then drops into the background, with no effect on us. Relative to the vaccine or RNA route which was meant to save or slow that first wave of illness (debatable if it did that), but in doing so kept the virus strong and revitalized through its evolution. And because of that this vaccine is still causing all sorts of wacky immunity/inflammatory responses 6 years later. Not to mention the serious side effects of the RNA vaccine, such as cardiovascular related deaths. Also, by isolating everyone for much of two years we became susceptible to many other pathogens that had been relatively harmless seasonal viruses and bacterial strains. So from that choice we made ourselves weaker and sicker as a group, perhaps indefinitely.

We didn’t realize what was at stake, we acted out of ignorance and fear and so as a culture we missed the boat back to a holistic earth centered reality. Instead we went further into the digital corporate reality. Further into divisiveness, coerced by and hiding behind old fears, propped up with backward reasoning. Now a chance to change direction has come again in another form and we are once again faced with a choice. Speak out and act with bravery and conviction, and risk losing what we have. Or stick our heads in the sand like we have been and hope the whole beach doesn’t get washed away, and us with it.

The problem with my previous overly cynical view of politics is that it kills any interest or chance for change. And then when we walk away from the table the elite pull up closer to take the whole cake. If open-minded people of spirit, of intellect or of an artistic persuasion continue to turn away from politics, economics and business as my generation did then the same old-boy’s conservative agendas will be served. No new vision, no path to follow. But it hasn’t always been this way, even in Canada. For the most part we were well known as a liberal country. Back in the day, in the 40s and 50s everyone used to be involved in politics. 80+% of people voted during the 1950’s elections. Globally, Canada has been seen as not just liberal, but leftist. One of our proudest achievements, our government subsidized health care system resulted from a long run of NDP leadership, and is based in communist ideology.

But these left leaning people began moving away from politics in the late 60s and 70s. I believe this exodus came from the disillusionment we felt after the Vietnam war, the Kennedy and Martin Luther King killings, and later the watergate scandal. While I am Canadian I grew up with American news and these events undeniably shaped our culture through the trauma of betrayal that was being broadcast our way. This was a turning point, fifty years ago, where the level of corruption in politics was revealed and the bubble of the 1950s righteousness burst. It was then many of us stopped believing and participating in the system. The thrust of the civil rights movement dropped off following this time period not just because some goals of equal legal rights were achieved, but from an overriding sense of disillusionment.

From that trauma, a generation of leaders, late Boomers and early GenX’ers floated off into their own areas of interest and expertise, thinking they were somehow above politics and okay in a separate world. (Me being one of them). I think millennials are more political so there’s hope but they aren’t in power yet, and few are motivated beyond a social media ‘like’ to protest in a disciplined and prolonged fight. For my generation the exodus from politics was a huge mistake because it enabled the right to step into the political vacuum. This phenomenon of conservative majorities that started with Reagan in the 80s and has run through to the orange menace, and it happened because of democratic/liberal disinterest. For Canada it started later with Harper. And from these conservative ‘leaders’ a world that was healing from two world wars got sold on the 50s ideals of more industry and returning to a simpler time, (that never existed). Ya, a time of naive consumerism and faithful and unquestioning citizens.

Now, a similar feeling of complete disillusionment is happening again but in a more full blown way. And this time it looks like the opposite outcome may happen. I think the pendulum of public opinion and fate is on our side this time and is going to swing back hard to the left. It may be that the time of cynical disillusionment is ending for the left and just starting for the right! Our cynicism has to end, for our survival. The horrors we see these ‘leaders’ are capable of inflicting on the public is snapping us awake, right before it happens to us! We know now that no one is going to save us. We all have to step forward as individuals and together to stand behind what is right and speak our truth. We want turn away as we have in the past but now we have the wisdom to know thats how these fuckers keep getting in and getting away with so much.

This is a letter to myself as much as it is to you, if you’re ignoring politics because you have no relationship to it. May it be that we can all step forward into a place where our time, energy and actions can help turn that larger cultural wheel of fate, away from the top down abusive systems toward one of harmonic synergies and co-creative initiatives and leadership.

We need to make personal sacrifices, but not be sacrificed to the cause as many have been. We love a hero who gets sacrificed or a martyr but it’s unnecessarily tragic. We’ve followed this narrative since times before patriarchy but we can change this narrative of sacrifice to something more sustainable if we stop unconsciously repeating it. I’ve seen many friends fall, burn out or turn away from the cause following the hero’s path, and it could have gone other ways. We need to each work in an inspired way, and find a balance between giving to our community, our family and ourselves. I hope that in my days as a teacher I’m giving and changing hearts and minds for the greater good of the Earth and my community, but I also write letters, sign petitions, show up physically to protests when I can, and donate to just causes. Not because I believe in the system but just to participate in it and do something that might help in small ways. And for the spell that might come of those small actions. I also vote and speak out on local issues to exercise the privilege I have as a democratic citizen. Admittedly, where I live in this right wing bastion my vote might not be inspired as much as it is voting to help pick the lesser of evils. That is clearly important too, as is illustrated by the chaos and losses of our American neighbours.

Now that I’ve stuck my head out in the direction of political thought and community, I’m going to shift my weight back to my usual Earth centric stance. While being informed of the ‘news’ and casting our vote may help, is it not ultimately not what you believe but how you live that casts spells that will crystallize into the future? Not through what we say but what we do. Raising children teaches us that. It doesn’t matter what ideals you have for your children, they just follow your lead, monkey see monkey do.

The way the spell of industrial life is cast over and over is so simple it’s more like a math equation than magic. It works like this. If you buy all your food and stuff new and as cheap as possible through the big chain stores, then the spell that you are casting for our future comes through your cheapness and ignorance of the hidden costs (exploitation and pollution). So just by shopping carelessly we are unconsciously impoverishing our community and our children’s future. And we are feeding an industrial corporate future of centralized power and wealth, global land exploration, slavery and huge transportation costs. By contrast, if you grow, forage or hunt for your food or buy it directly from someone who does, we are perpetuating a culture of local wealth and individual sovereignty. If everything in your life is controlled, sanitized, synthesized and surrounded in plastic, then you are unconsciously perpetuating a doomed industrial world separate from nature. If you make what you need from the land or buy it directly from someone who does, we’re casting a spell for a future of independence, sovereignty, wealth and protection for the Earth.

Governments and corporate oligarchies don’t have any real power, it’s mostly just spin. We the people have the power. But to claim that power and use it we have to face our own weaknesses. Because we’re unwilling to look at that darkness in ourselves we’ve manifested these corrupt politicians and greedy corporate oligarchs. We are scapegoating them because they’re reflections of our own deficiencies. If we all addressed these things in our own world and changed accordingly the exploitation would end and the politics would change to be “for the people” once again. All the distractions and finger pointing could stop and we could once again work communally and co-create with the Earth to secure a sustainable healthy life for everyone and a good future for those coming.

This clip shares how to identify, sustainably harvest and propagate Fiddleheads. An excerpt from our latest short film, ‘Gifts and Wisdom from an Intact Forest Ecology’, which speaks to the abundance of the forest floor in the early spring when an ecology is intact. Many of these early spring plants are ephemerals, which is defined as woodland perennial wildflowers that emerge, bloom, and set seed rapidly in early spring before deciduous trees grow leaves, creating a canopy.

These plants are easily damaged by logging, over-harvesting and invasive plants. We are grateful to have these spaces around us and to share what a respectful, honourable relationship with plant kin can look like.

For early access to the film, please consider becoming a paid subscriber, the full film is available now should you consider this level of support. Thank you to those who have already offered this, we appreciate it and are very much thankful.

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April is a most bounteous time. The snow has finally receded, and the ground is thawing. The Earth, our virgin bride lay naked and sleepy eyed, cleansed and revitalized by the long, frozen sleep.

And while the land looks washed out and barren, a feast is being prepared from hidden dimensions. Almost every plant is, or will be edible in the next month. Once the freeze comes out of the ground, the plants awaken and begin to transform. It is their time to physically manifest life from their dreamtime ‘larval’ state.

burdock roots and overwintered fingerling potatoes

If you are a wildcrafter, it’s good to know that as soon as the freeze comes out, the plant’s ethereal creative energy is at its peak. So generally, this means the sooner you harvest spring roots, the better. There are a few plants that get better as their heart awakens and they send out rich shoots of growth, but most tubers decline in taste, nutritional and medicinal value, as the shoots grow.

This time of year, the land gives us the sweetness of Her essence. From the March equinox to May day She gives us sweet sap to drink (first Maple and then Birch), to detoxify, purify and re-nutrify. At the farm here, we drink at least a couple of litres a day, the kids love it and glow with the sap’s vitality.

Then, She gives us barks and roots. The kids and I dug up fresh, bright, orange carrots from the winter soaked earth. This time of year, tree barks and roots are filled with sugars, which enabled them to be in a frozen state for months, and then come alive again. While we usually dig roots in the fall, for winter storage, it’s good to remember to leave some for the spring too, when the roots are actually the most tasty, digestible and nutritive. A century ago in the southern Algonquin region where we live, it was not uncommon for pioneers to die of starvation in the few weeks before spring growth. It is likely that these Europeans didn’t know what wild food there was to eat, or how to overwinter crops in the garden.

If we know the land well, we see the Earth offers us a miraculous bounty at this time of year. Miraculous, because the abundance appears from nowhere, and because it is exactly what we need after a long winter of deprivation.

Interest in “wild foods” has increased dramatically over the past five to ten years, and I’m often asked to do “wild plant” walks this time of year. I am honoured by the asking, but usually say no. When I was a novice I liked doing walks because I got to share what I knew. But as I’ve gotten older and gotten to know the plants more deeply the walks leave me feeling disappointed. When you do a ‘walk’, many people are impatient, they just want the “goods’, boom boom boom, ” what do I eat? – and how do I eat it?”. They don’t want to wait for the plants stories, her culture. I’ve even seen promotions for such walks or outings that claim, you will learn about “nature’s supermarket”.

The problems with describing and seeing “nature” as a supermarket are enumerable, but it also sadly reflects how people approach the Wild land, like She is a supermarket. Once some novices know what to harvest, they harvest exactly the same way as they would take goods in a grocery store, but like they’re getting it for free! This type of greedy harvesting has given wildcrafting a bad name. Now, you can even be charged for over-harvesting plants, like wild leeks and fiddleheads. But, there should be no need for the enforcement of harvest limits. The problem is in the way we’re thinking about and approaching the Wild. Many wild harvesters do it in part because it’s “free” food, not realizing that in the taking there is debt created, to the plants themselves, and the land.

The supermarket is a fantasy of western culture, a Disney land that could not be further from the reality of Wild land. In supermarkets most of us are fussy, either for price or quality. We seldom act like we should, with awe and deep appreciation for the abundance and diversity of produce. Instead, we take what we like with unquestioning entitlement, and complete detachment from the actual people and land that grew the food. Many of these people, whose work and land supply the food chains, are impoverished and enslaved. They sell the food for a small fraction of what we buy it for. Food chains play their part in the pyramid, as the top organized middlemen, at the end of a chain of middlemen, all of whom make money off the backs of the “third world” workers and their land. Supermarket representatives will say “oh don’t worry about that, were giving all these people work, and… look at our supply, the variety and how cheap it is!” On the supply side, these stores are served only by their own kind, huge industrial growers, producers and distributors. The buyers for supermarkets buy shippers full of produce at the depot. Most often they don’t even know the name of the people who grow the food, let alone what the story of their family’s land is. These industries have “unlimited” access to the food storehouses all over the world, and because the market sanctions competitive pricing the worst thing possible happens, which is, each poor country is pitied against the next poorest, and forced to dive into industrial production that is even more detrimental in the tropics. Many people in the “developed” country get rich and we get access to tones of tropic fruit, coffee and cocoa, but the people and land where the food is grown is enslaved by the profits of multinational companies and the middle men that facilitate their sales.

By contrast, when we buy local food, in an open market from vendor-producers, as we have done for tens of thousands of years, we connect directly with the farmer. Then, the farmer makes all of what we pay, which is as it should be. When we buy direct from the farmer we can see their character and question their farming practices. So, even though we didn’t grow or harvest the food we connect with the person and land that did.

When we garden and when we harvest wild food we should do so with great reverence and care. Far from the casual grocery browsing, when we approach plants in the wild we should be feeling love, and thinking about how grateful we are and how much we appreciate the plant. We should not be thinking about getting or “taking” the goods for free. This supermarket approach offends and alarms the plants.

When we are interacting with the wild plants we should be centred and peaceful. In this calm state, find the elder plants and tell them in a heart felt way why you need them, that you are hungry or need medicine, and then ask that they give of themselves. We need to plead and bargain with them, for them to let us have their children. Yes, this is the gruesome truth of food; we are always eating someone’s children to survive. But this is life. The only choice you have is how you do it. You can kill things with honour and gratitude for the plant or animals life, or you can just carelessly take things and be subject to the karma that your ignorance will bring you and your people.

In return for the food, for her children, we give her our loyalty and respect. Which means we help her family thrive, by leaving the “parent” plants to seed future generations. We’re obligated to watch out for the tree or herb patch that has fed or healed us, as it grows each year, and over generations. And, in our love and appreciation we spread the family to new areas, we help perpetuate them. This dance with the Wild, with Her plant people, is how we all survived for hundreds of thousands of years, long before the age of ‘agriculture’ and ‘civilization’.

Wild plants are very powerful and when we harvest or eat them, we should always view them in terms of medicine. Domesticated food has been highbred and pampered for thousands of years and this process has taken much of the spirit medicine from the plant, as well as many of her constituents that enabled the plant to survive in the wild. So, when we are not used to eating a wild plant or mushroom it’s good to only harvest a very small amount at first, and to only consume a small amount. This enables your body and spirit to work with the wild plant energy and not be overwhelmed by it. After you get to know the plant well, and know how to harvest her sustainably, then you can take what the plant has to offer.

To harvest plants respectfully we must know them very well, not just from a quick walk or reference book, but from years of observation and interaction with them, from which we glean a deeper understanding of her cycles and relations. When we harvest with respect, we are not only assuring the plant family’s future health, but we are linking ourselves with that family and that place. In our taking we acknowledge our indebtedness to them. In western culture the idea of being in debt is dreaded, because we associate it with banks and money-lenders. But, the origins of indebtedness are far more noble, and arguably, the binding force of culture.

The simple fact is, we are connected to those to whom who we are indebted. We feel it. Hopefully, in thankfulness we send them good energy, as interest on the loan. And should a time come when those to whom we are indebted to are threatened, a tree or a patch of plants that is going to be plowed down or ‘developed’, then we will act appropriately, saving them. So the debt, is of mutual benefit to everyone. Real “mutual insurance”!, with a monthly fee of attention, love and care.

Join us at The Sacred Gardener School this year, we start in May.

Learn more here:

https://sacredgardener.ca/the-sacred-gardener-school/

From Linda Rose:

My name is Linda Rose 🌹

My journey with the Medicine Plants and other forms of Healing began with an illness in my early thirties. I realized there were things I needed to know about myself and about Alternative Medicine if I was going to Heal from my illness.

Since that realization I have trained in Cranial Sacral Bodywork, Shamanic Coaching, Flower Remedies, Homeopathy and of course Plant Medicine. The culmination of all this training was the fourteen years I spent as a Vendor in the St Lawrence Farmers Market.

That’s where I really learned my craft with the Medicine Plants. I was harvesting the plants and taking them to the Market every Saturday.

Starting with my own Land, I wild crafted all my own products to supply the table. I sold the Herbs fresh, dried, planted and packaged as Teas, Tinctures, Flower Remedies, Potpourri and Sacred Bundles.

And I learned on the go, serving up to 100 people a cup of tea and a little bit of the Herbs every Saturday morning. I did classes, Herb Walks, Strawberry Festivals and Health shows. I ran retreats on my Land where we did Ceremonies, learned about the Medicine Plants, and camped together.

As an older Woman, I am now only available for personal consultations and sometimes for classes and other adventures.🌹

I live in Tkaronto as part of the Bain Co-op Community in Riverdale where I have been for many years.

I can only be reached by email at:

blackrivergatehouse@gmail.com

Linda Rose 🌹

We went away for the month of February and a friend, Lara, stayed at our place, keeping the animals fed and the house and greenhouse warm. While she was here, out on a snowshoe walk in the back woods, she came upon a deer kill. Now you may have seen things like this on TV, or seen real animals butchered, or torn up pretty bad at the side of the road, but when you come across a fresh wolf kill in real life out in the bush, it’s something of an initiation.

Suddenly our bubble of safety, entitlement, and technology, pops and we are full-on looking into the face of reality. Alone, way back in the bush, with no house or even fence to hide behind, we know in a primal way that we are in the presence of a large predator, or many, that just tore apart a warm blooded animal (about our size). If the parts of the body are still there or not, you will see a large blood red pit, still pulsing with life in the white snow that’s been melted down to the ground. For a second, it looks out of place, like a giant water ballon of blood was dropped from somewhere above the forest canopy. From the zero point of the kill and feast, the blood spreads out fading in every direction, until about ten feet from the epicentre paw prints trail off from light pink to white again. Generally at this point after a few minutes of dumb struck awe, it occurs to you that maybe you’re the one that’s out of place, and should go. And Lara did.

The truth is, that it’s extremely rare for wolves or coyotes to attack a human. But in moments like this, statistical facts about such things seem rather flimsy, like the paper they’re written on. Whereas our myths and stories about these beings rise up and loom large. We have an illusion that we know these animals from nature documentaries, but the truth is when you really get to know these animals up close in reality, they more resemble by far the awesome mythical changelings our ancestors spoke of in stories, than they do the biologist’s behavioural interpretations.

Yesterday, the soft snow refroze hard which enables one to walk on top without snowshoes. So I thought I would head out and see if I could find the kill site and make some offerings, and maybe have a look around for the toes, which make excellent rattles. (the original jingle dancers in the Anishinaabe tradition, who danced to heal people, used hundreds of deer toes sewn onto a deer skin dress so it would shake like a heavy rain when they danced). I hadn’t really walked in the back for a month or so, which is a long time for me, so I was going slow, looking at everything and telling the land about the trip down south we were just back from. At the only high point on the last field before the unbroken forest, where you can see out over the wetland a couple hundred feet away, I look over and I see my dog May running full speed in the opposite direction to where Sophie and I (my other dog) were walking. Sometimes we call May ‘Mayhem’ because while she is a looker, and has a lovely disposition she is a bit of a nit wit. This isn’t a judgement, it’s a fact, and we love her just the same, like one might a family member that’s not right full on the mark. Anyway, as I watch her tear along the wetland shoreline, I’m thinking “what’s she up to now”, imagining she’s chasing deer or something. Then I see another bigger dog running along with her. And it actually looks like they’re having fun, so I think ‘someone else’s dog is out here in the bush’. Then I see another, and another, and my brain fully registers what going on. Wolves! Running full-out, chasing, gaining and circling in on, my super fast dog!

I had to do something! I have a really loud piercing whistle, and so I really shoot that out to them to let them know I’m here and to back-off. It did throw them off for a split second, but because I was downwind (and it was windy), they didn’t register where it came from and didn’t stop the chase. The whistle bought May a few feet, and also changed her direction. To right towards me, at full speed. The wolves changed their vector accordingly, also toward me, to cut off her path. So now she and four other large wolves are forty feet away and bearing down on me like a train. I didn’t have gloves and also have the ability to clap really loud, so I clapped four times, like my life depended on it. And one by one the wolves looked up, saw me and turn casually off the chase, back toward the direction they came from. Back to the kill site.

As it turns out those wolves fully woke up two of us. Lara, and then me a week later.

The wolves had probably been napping near by, because it was 2pm and sunny. May, oblivious to the careful boundaries our other dog Sophie had negotiated with the wolves over the years, had blundered into their territory. And maybe because she is currently an un-neutered female, they were having a run with her to check her out. That’s what I told myself. But then coincidentally that night we caught about five minutes of “the nature of things” on CBC, which happened to be about wolves and saw 3 or 4 wolves run down, catch and kill another wolf from another pack. Yikes.

Fully realizing our true vulnerability and knowing that we have to act, and rely on our skills to save ourselves is a rare gift these days. When I lived in the bush by myself many years ago that used to be a way of life, as it was for our ancestors. And these experiences bring us both humility and confidence. While the threats to our existence seem less poignant the truth is we all do need to act now and bring our full abilities to bare, just like when we lived in the wilds. This experience reminded me of a short piece called “Spirit Place” by Richard Wagamese, in his book “One Story, One Song”. Richard was a humorous, wise and humble teacher and one of Canada’s most important writers.

Here’s to you Richard, thank you for your gifts. I know you’re feeling your ancestors embrace, and the sadness and tears we’re shedding on this side are matched by the joy and tears of your reunion on the other side.