Working With Wintergreen

 

One of the joys of living so close to nature is harvesting from her bounty.  I was raised a forager, though we did not use that term.  Long before Euell Gibbons and the many that would follow him started writing books, my family were getting a good amount of their food and medicine from the woods, rivers, fields, hillsides, and bogs.  It was more out of necessity than otherwise.  Our connection to the natural world came from our needing it to live the life we did.  Through that connection I have been blessed to learn the different plant personalities that live in the wilds around me.

Wintergreen is one of the little hidden ones that lie at the edges of the fens or bogs here. A small plant, it is often overlooked by humans who want the more flashy, bright flowers that grow in the light.  She doesn't mind her diminutive status though because, like many of the furtive souls of the world, she holds a great deal of secrets. 

Wintergreen seldom grows more than two inches above the moss strewn floor and often her leaves are longer than she is tall.  The oval leaves are usually a dark green with a shine on the top and lighter colored and dull underneath.  The grow in opposites but because the plant is so small they usually look like a whorl on the top of it's stiff stem.  Sometimes the new leaves will take on a reddish color, especially if they've had a good freeze before they toughen up.  Her flowers are bell shape and hide beneath her leaves.  They are white to light pink in color and bloom through spring to early summer.  Shortly later the crimson berries appear and these will stay on wintergreen until early the next spring. The leaves, like her name suggests, stay on the plant all winter and can be found either under the snow or, for easier collection, in areas where the wind has blown the ground clear.

On this February day I come to just such a place.  The north edge of the old fen butts up against the worn cliffs of the ancient Penokean Mountain Range.  The wind swirls here, making patterns over the snow, piling it high in some areas and baring the ground in others.  It has always been a good place to come to gather wintergreen during the dark time of the year and the walk through the forest is just as healing as what wintergreen has to offer.

Wintergreen's main medicinal properties is mythel salicylate, which is the basis of the pharmaceutical aspirin.  Like aspirin, wintergreen is a pain reliever, but she is more than that.  She helps reduce swelling and is mildly diuretic, making her a perfect helper for healing urinary tract irritations.  She can even help with heart problems, especially when blended with cayenne pepper.  We work with her both internally through teas and tinctures and externally with rubs, oils and liniments.

 

Today I am looking to make a liniment with wintergreen's healing power.  This year it has been one of my most requested wild preparation.  It seems that people are pushing themselves further than they ever have before, living life to its fullest.  So off I go over the maple ridge and down to the edge of the fen.  I have always been a fan of the boggy area near my home.  While they hold the danger of slipping beneath the mat, I find it worth the risk to see the different life that calls it home.  Here there are plants that eat meat and ground with no dirt.  Life that happens here often break all the rules of what we humans consider normal.  Wintergreen grows at the in between places between the bog mat and the iron highlands.  To my left are the cliffs, to my right is the ancient bog, at my feet is my treasure, wintergreen.

I pluck only one leaf from each plant.  Yes, it would be easier to gather tiny wintergreen by the handful, but she grows slowly here in the shade.  I certainly don't want her to leave this special place so I go slow, taking only what I feel the plant can give.  Also we humans aren't the only ones that use her for healing.  Deer and partridge have been seen munching a leaf here and there from her as well.

My knees sink into the thick snow spotted  moss and I can smell the frozen earth so close to my face.  She is waiting to come out of her winter's pause and begin again.  My fingers, bared to do the job, are cold so I blow on them between plucking leaves.  Gradually the scent of wintergreen take over the earthy smells and I pop a leaf into my mouth.  The flavor is a wonderful gift from a little friend.  I put the leaf against the back of my tongue and let the juices flow through my mouth.  I breath out the cooling air she and I create together.  Such a wonder, this sister of mine.  Deeper in the fen I hear the call of a barred owl, "who cooks for you, who cooks for you all."  They are mating this time of year and can call day and night if the mood suits them. 

My canvas bag is full and I take to the trail back home, stopping by the spring to collect some watercress for a touch of green in tonight's meal.  A mink has traveled this way, leaving her tracks along the banks of the river.

 

Back home I upend my bag, spilling the fragrant leaves across my dining room table. Ryan walks by and steals a few for a cup of tea while I put several handfuls into a jar.  Over them I pour the foreshot from the still, though rubbing alcohol would do fine as well.  This jar will be labeled and put into the herb room for a couple of weeks until it is a strong enough liniment to rub into tired aching muscles.  The remaining leaves are spread out to dry.  They will be used for teas for internal healing of those same pains.  Healing from within and without.  I may even make a salve out of it for bug bites, though it is hard to think of bugs when the snow still covers most of the earth.  Then there is jelly, jam, wine, root beer, potpourri and...so many uses for such a little unassuming plant that grows where the showy flowers shun.  She teaches me lessons as she heals.