By the end of February we’re all ready to leave winter behind for good. Groundhog Day has passed, and even with a couple of warmer days, we know the furry marmot was right when he predicted 6 more weeks of winter! Recently while driving to work I saw something that renewed my faith that warmer days are ahead. In the hayfield to my right was the first groundhog (or whistle pig as my husband calls them) of spring. As I watched the fat little brown animal undulating across the dry grass, I felt joy in my heart that my underground friend had returned.
Just like the groundhog, I feel I have been underground for 6 months as well. Winter is the time of incubation. We snuggle in, fill our cupboards, and occupy our days with tasks, trying to drive away the imminent cold. In winter I assess the successes and the failures of the previous year. I lay low, become less social and more introspective. I dream the dreams of the future season. I plan my herb garden, long hikes in the golden sun, and the taste of a ripe tomato right off the vine.
I look forward to the rebirth of new ideas and the renewal of the fertile soil. Our ancient ancestors did not farm, instead they gathered. Our collective unconscious holds the memory of living a life of abundance, where nature fulfilled our every hunger. Foraging is a primal art form that is largely ignored in modern Western culture. Of all
the wild plants I collect, I become most excited about harvesting fresh spring nettles.
Nettles have many health benefits. They are filled with calcium, magnesium, iron, and other minerals. They are a blood strengthener, a tonic to the body, and a good spring cleanser. They tone our kidneys and pacify our liver after a winter of eating rich foods. They help us fortify ourselves for the coming year, nourishing our organs as a wholesome food.
Stinging nettle is a common plant in our area. You can find it in any of our state parks, though most abundantly in Brandywine Creek state park. Most of us have had the unfortunate introduction to this plant by brushing up against it at one time or another. It leaves mean red and burning welts on legs and arms. As protective of its territory as it is, it is possible to collect this plant for nutritional/medicinal use virtually unscathed.
Look for nettles near streams and rivers. They like wet feet, but they don’t like stagnant water. Sometimes they grow near rotting logs and tree stumps. My herb teacher, Susan, allows hers to grow on the shady and damp side of a stone barn. They prefer part sun and a place where they can remain continually hydrated. Nettles emerge after the last good winter storm and are still valuable for collection through the month of May. After that time, they are a little too strong for ingestion.
Last year a co-worker and I journeyed to Brandywine Creek to search out nettles. We started out at the main parking lot and walked down many fields and paths on our way to the river. Along the way, we saw wild violets, ground ivy, lambium, and buttercups. In our pockets were plastic bags crunched up into balls. (Although I’m sure the ranger would overlook a little bit of collecting, we were secretive about what we were after. For the record, it is not legal to remove flora or fauna from state park premises!)
As the new spring leaves in the trees cooled us from the warming sun and our feet returned to the dirt paths, we began to become peaceful and meditative. My friend and I made our way through twists and turns and eventually down a great hillside. After about an hour of continuously scanning the ground for the right spot for nettles, we reached a clearing by the rushing river. Suddenly, around the bend of the river, appeared two great blue herons! The mating pair became our guides as they silently flew past us. We followed the herons a short distance and behold; we found just what we were looking for. The woods opened up into a sunny patch near the riverbed, and there, luxurious and abundant in the gentle nurturing of decaying logs, were a tremendous display of perfect green nettles, waiting for our appreciation.
For nettle picking I use my bare hands, but some choose to wear gloves. I draw my small scissors out of my pocket, take a deep breath and approach a good-looking nettle plant. I send the plant gratitude as I reach down and gently cut off the very top 3-inches or so of leaves directly into the bag. Using this technique I am able (either with scissors or pinching the top section of leaves with thumb and forefinger), to avoid the wrath of the stinging plant. (And even if you were to get stung, it’s only a temporary pain and excellent for the circulation.)
My friend and I both filled our bags with 2 cups of nettle, eager to get home and enjoy our fresh nettle tea, which promotes a tranquil feeling of well-being and peace of mind. Harvesting wild nettles is a slow process. The more gentle and calm you are, the less you get stung, and the more open you will be to what the plant and Nature have to say to you. Every year I look forward to a new nettle experience. It is a great chance to get in touch with yourself, with the Earth, and with all that She provides.
Happy nettle picking!
-Emma
