When nettles grow in the margins and I brew tea from their tips I remember that wild plants often care for us in quiet ways
Eleanor Ashford
On a crisp morning, when the mist clings to the meadow and the sky is painted with muted pastels, I often find myself walking along the garden's edges, those delightful borders that blur the distinction between cultivated charm and untamed wilderness.
It's in these margins where unsuspecting treasures lie, patiently waiting to be rediscovered. In particular, the humble nettle stands sentry, a plant much maligned for its sting yet brimming with quiet gifts.
The margins of our gardens and lives have always fascinated me.
They house the forgotten, the wild, and the resilient. In the world of well-trimmed hedges and sculpted topiaries, these spaces tend to tell far more intriguing tales. During my perambulations, it's not unusual to find a welcoming row of nettles swaying in the breeze. For years, they were viewed as encroachers, but I consider them more like uninvited guests who share the best stories.
More than a mere weed, the nettle is a testament to nature's resourcefulness.
Collecting nettles is an exercise in mindfulness. The prick of a careless hand reminds me to tread lightly. It's a mercurial transaction between giver and taker. Gently, I gather their vibrant green tips, fresh and fragrant in the morning dew, still buzzing with life.
This gathering of nettles serves as a perfect metaphor for the overlooked wellness they offer. When steeped into tea, their sting turns subservient, unfolding into a subtly earthy flavour, much like a fine green tea, but with notes as nuanced as a Sonnet. Yet, more than their taste, it's nettles' soothing properties, their bountiful vitamins, and gentle diuretic nature that truly shine. Nature's quiet handmaidens, if you will, offering care without craving gratitude.
Drinking nettle tea is akin to embracing a long-lost tradition.
Many grandmothers and great-grandmothers before us were familiar with this concoction. These bottles of golden goodness meant not only to nourish but prevent. They wove nettles into the tapestry of everyday health, long before the age of processed pills and concocted potions.
In a world racing towards modernity, where the glow of screens often outshines the glow of the sunrise, this simple act of brewing ensures I remain tethered to the generations who sowed seeds with mud-soaked hands. It's a thread that connects the past with the present. Moreover, it gently nudges me to live sustainably, acknowledging that there’s often more beneath our feet than meets the eye.
Many might wonder, in an age teetering on extinction's brink, why there is relevance in a cup of wild tea.
It bears witness to our capacity for harmony with nature. In fact, this underlines a unique perspective of sustainable gardening that aligns with the cycles of nature rather than opposing them. By allowing native plants like nettles their rightful places, we invite biodiversity, promoting a habitat richer and more layered than any catalogue-bought ensemble.
Planting itself is an act of hope, a way of ensuring that something remains, something breaths, as we delve into the uncertain future.
I recently took a stroll with an old friend, a cartographer, who told me how he maps landscapes not solely in lines and dimensions, but in how environments nurture and cover the stories and cycles hidden within. Much like him, gardening is my map-making, creating a haven where every plant adds a chapter.
And so, cultivation doesn't merely pertain to daffodils or sweet peas, grand protagonists of well-loved beds. It's about understanding every plant's role in the bewitching pageantry of the natural world, the supporting cast that aids the narrative. Marginal plants like nettles enforce this vividly, quietly maintaining equilibrium whilst often being overshadowed by more conventionally attractive varieties.
Gardening, for me, has always been about texture and layers, not simply the glossy veneer.
This is where the raw beauty of nature resides, in its unbridled layers and nuanced palette. It's when you dig deeper; you unearth the connection between the wild and the tamed. Only by embracing them do we appreciate their intrinsic capabilities to heal and soothe, much like re-reading a dog-eared novel that uncovers some overlooked detail each time.
In my garden, once-bitten hands transform their perception into something akin to respect, almost reverence. For within that slight burn lies knowledge, an understanding that what may appear bothersome requires an exploration devoid of judgment. Rediscovering nettles is like inviting the misunderstood back to the banquet table and finding they have more to offer than we realised.
So, my dear readers, the next time you pause by your garden, glance beyond the glossy petals and sculpted blooms.
Listen to the whispered invitations of wild inhabitants. Include them in your tea parties and brews. Let them share their stories and, more importantly, let them care for you in their gentle, unassuming way.
What humble nettles can offer might not promise glamour, but they offer familiarity. They're a visible reminder that in the margins of our gardens, much like the margins of our lives, there exists unseen potential. All it requires is for us to open our eyes and partake.
As I enjoy the final sip of my nettle tea, sitting amidst the morning birdsong, there’s a sense of continuity, a reminder that amidst seasons and storms, growth persists.
Through wild plants, we can find our place in this world, anchoring ourselves with roots in the simplicity of nature, connected to the past and looking forward to the future. Be it in the margins or the centre, there is always room for nature's quiet care.
It's in these margins where unsuspecting treasures lie, patiently waiting to be rediscovered. In particular, the humble nettle stands sentry, a plant much maligned for its sting yet brimming with quiet gifts.
The margins of our gardens and lives have always fascinated me.
They house the forgotten, the wild, and the resilient. In the world of well-trimmed hedges and sculpted topiaries, these spaces tend to tell far more intriguing tales. During my perambulations, it's not unusual to find a welcoming row of nettles swaying in the breeze. For years, they were viewed as encroachers, but I consider them more like uninvited guests who share the best stories.
More than a mere weed, the nettle is a testament to nature's resourcefulness.
Collecting nettles is an exercise in mindfulness. The prick of a careless hand reminds me to tread lightly. It's a mercurial transaction between giver and taker. Gently, I gather their vibrant green tips, fresh and fragrant in the morning dew, still buzzing with life.
This gathering of nettles serves as a perfect metaphor for the overlooked wellness they offer. When steeped into tea, their sting turns subservient, unfolding into a subtly earthy flavour, much like a fine green tea, but with notes as nuanced as a Sonnet. Yet, more than their taste, it's nettles' soothing properties, their bountiful vitamins, and gentle diuretic nature that truly shine. Nature's quiet handmaidens, if you will, offering care without craving gratitude.
Drinking nettle tea is akin to embracing a long-lost tradition.
Many grandmothers and great-grandmothers before us were familiar with this concoction. These bottles of golden goodness meant not only to nourish but prevent. They wove nettles into the tapestry of everyday health, long before the age of processed pills and concocted potions.
In a world racing towards modernity, where the glow of screens often outshines the glow of the sunrise, this simple act of brewing ensures I remain tethered to the generations who sowed seeds with mud-soaked hands. It's a thread that connects the past with the present. Moreover, it gently nudges me to live sustainably, acknowledging that there’s often more beneath our feet than meets the eye.
Many might wonder, in an age teetering on extinction's brink, why there is relevance in a cup of wild tea.
It bears witness to our capacity for harmony with nature. In fact, this underlines a unique perspective of sustainable gardening that aligns with the cycles of nature rather than opposing them. By allowing native plants like nettles their rightful places, we invite biodiversity, promoting a habitat richer and more layered than any catalogue-bought ensemble.
Planting itself is an act of hope, a way of ensuring that something remains, something breaths, as we delve into the uncertain future.
I recently took a stroll with an old friend, a cartographer, who told me how he maps landscapes not solely in lines and dimensions, but in how environments nurture and cover the stories and cycles hidden within. Much like him, gardening is my map-making, creating a haven where every plant adds a chapter.
And so, cultivation doesn't merely pertain to daffodils or sweet peas, grand protagonists of well-loved beds. It's about understanding every plant's role in the bewitching pageantry of the natural world, the supporting cast that aids the narrative. Marginal plants like nettles enforce this vividly, quietly maintaining equilibrium whilst often being overshadowed by more conventionally attractive varieties.
Gardening, for me, has always been about texture and layers, not simply the glossy veneer.
This is where the raw beauty of nature resides, in its unbridled layers and nuanced palette. It's when you dig deeper; you unearth the connection between the wild and the tamed. Only by embracing them do we appreciate their intrinsic capabilities to heal and soothe, much like re-reading a dog-eared novel that uncovers some overlooked detail each time.
In my garden, once-bitten hands transform their perception into something akin to respect, almost reverence. For within that slight burn lies knowledge, an understanding that what may appear bothersome requires an exploration devoid of judgment. Rediscovering nettles is like inviting the misunderstood back to the banquet table and finding they have more to offer than we realised.
So, my dear readers, the next time you pause by your garden, glance beyond the glossy petals and sculpted blooms.
Listen to the whispered invitations of wild inhabitants. Include them in your tea parties and brews. Let them share their stories and, more importantly, let them care for you in their gentle, unassuming way.
What humble nettles can offer might not promise glamour, but they offer familiarity. They're a visible reminder that in the margins of our gardens, much like the margins of our lives, there exists unseen potential. All it requires is for us to open our eyes and partake.
As I enjoy the final sip of my nettle tea, sitting amidst the morning birdsong, there’s a sense of continuity, a reminder that amidst seasons and storms, growth persists.
Through wild plants, we can find our place in this world, anchoring ourselves with roots in the simplicity of nature, connected to the past and looking forward to the future. Be it in the margins or the centre, there is always room for nature's quiet care.