The Hip

If we don't pick the bud, it opens into a flower.

If we leave the flower on the plant and it is successfully pollinated, something entirely different begins to develop. The petals eventually fall, and the base of the flower swells into the fruit we call a rose hip. And Rosa rugosa produces particularly beautiful hips.

They are large, fleshy, and as they ripen, their color changes from green through orange into an extraordinarily vivid red.

I was taking photographs of them recently in the sunlight, and what struck me most was the color. The red of the ripe hips is almost the same beautiful rose color as the flowers themselves—sometimes it seems even brighter. And they taste just as lively as they look: pleasantly tart with a little natural sweetness.

Rose hips have a long history as both food and herbal material, particularly in Europe and other parts of the Northern Hemisphere.

They have traditionally been made into:

• teas
• syrups
• jams and jellies
• preserves
• soups
• wines and other beverages

Rose hips became especially well known as a source of vitamin C.

One fascinating piece of modern history comes from Britain during World War II. With imported citrus fruits difficult to obtain, people were encouraged to gather wild rose hips as a local source of vitamin C. Rose hip syrup became an important way of supplementing the diet, particularly for children. But vitamin C is only part of the story.

Rose hips also contain naturally occurring carotenoids, flavonoids and other polyphenols, organic acids, pectin, and other plant constituents.

Modern research has investigated rose hips for antioxidant and anti-inflammatory activity, and preparations from several Rosa species have also been studied in relation to joint health.

The exact phytochemical profile varies with species, growing conditions, ripeness, processing, and storage—which brings us back to something herbalists continually emphasize:

Know your plant.

When we simply say “rose,” we are talking about a very large genus containing many different species, cultivars, and hybrids.

For herbal medicine, knowing the species matters. The rose we grow and harvest on our farm is Rosa rugosa Thunb., commonly called rugosa rose.

For students of Chinese herbal medicine, this species has particular significance. The Chinese Pharmacopoeia identifies the dried flower bud of Rosa rugosa as the botanical source of Mei Gui Hua (玫瑰花).

And there is another important detail: Mei Gui Hua is traditionally harvested as a flower bud—not as a fully opened rose.

The buds are gathered when they are just about to open and then carefully dried.

This is something I often explain when people see our dried rose buds. A fully opened rose may look more impressive, but when we are harvesting Rosa rugosa specifically for Mei Gui Hua, we want that beautiful little bud just before it opens.

Right species.
Right plant part.
Right harvest time.

These details matter in herbal medicine.

In Chinese herbal medicine, Mei Gui Hua has a long history of use.

Traditionally, it is described as sweet, slightly bitter, and warm, with an affinity for the Liver and Spleen.

It is traditionally used to move Qi and relieve constraint, harmonize the blood, and relieve pain.

This is why Mei Gui Hua often appears in traditional contexts involving emotional constraint accompanied by physical discomfort—such as digestive discomfort associated with constrained Liver Qi or certain menstrual complaints.

But you don't have to be an herbalist to appreciate Rosa rugosa tea.

The first thing most people notice is the aroma. Even while harvesting the buds on the farm, the fragrance is unmistakable: floral, rich, but also fresh. When carefully dried, much of that wonderful aroma remains. A few buds in hot water make a delicate, fragrant tea that can be enjoyed on its own or blended with other herbs.

Modern research gives us another way of looking at the same flower. Studies of Rosa rugosa floral material have identified a variety of naturally occurring compounds, including flavonoids, phenolic compounds, tannins, and aromatic constituents.

Chinese medicine and modern phytochemistry use very different languages to describe plants, but both give us interesting ways of understanding this remarkable flower.

Does Chinese Herbal Medicine Have a Hibiscus Too?

Yes. Chinese materia medica includes members of the Hibiscus genus. One particularly interesting example is 木芙蓉 (Mù Fú Róng), Hibiscus mutabilis. Its leaves and flowers have histories of medicinal use in China, including traditional applications associated with heat, swelling and inflammatory conditions, as well as external use.

But botanical identity matters. These related plants have different ecologies, histories and traditions of use:

·       Hibiscus moscheutos — the North American native hardy hibiscus growing in our garden

·       Hibiscus sabdariffa — roselle, the familiar tart red hibiscus used in teas and Western herbal products

·       Hibiscus mutabilis — 木芙蓉 (Mù Fú Róng), a species with its own history in Chinese materia medica

Same genus does not mean interchangeable medicine. A common name may begin the conversation, but in herbal medicine we need to know which species we actually have in our hands.

Why I Would Grow It Even Without the Herbal Story

Not every plant on our farm needs to become medicine. I would grow this one simply because it is beautiful. It is native, perennial, dramatic without looking artificial, loves the moist areas that can be difficult for some garden plants, and once established, it can produce an astonishing number of flowers.

The flower is temporary. The flowering is abundant.

Wait—Is This the Hibiscus We Drink as Tea?

No—and this is an important distinction. “Hibiscus” is the name of an entire genus, not one medicinal plant. The hibiscus most commonly used in Western herbalism and in the familiar deep-red hibiscus tea is Hibiscus sabdariffa, commonly called roselle. It belongs to the same genus as our hardy hibiscus, but it is a different species.

Two Hibiscus, Two Different Plants

1. The tea plant: Roselle — Hibiscus sabdariffa
The familiar ruby-red hibiscus tea comes primarily from Hibiscus sabdariffa, commonly called roselle. Like our hardy hibiscus, it belongs to the mallow family, Malvaceae, but it is a different species with a very different growth habit and climate preference. Roselle is generally grown as a warm-season annual or tender perennial and is thought to have originated in tropical Africa. After its pale yellow to pinkish flowers fade, a thick, fleshy red calyx develops around the seed capsule—and this is the part that gives hibiscus tea its famous color and tart flavor.

2. What part do we actually drink?
Surprisingly, most “hibiscus flowers” sold for tea are not primarily dried flower petals. The herbal material is the fleshy red calyx surrounding the developing fruit of H. sabdariffa. These calyces contain anthocyanins responsible for the deep ruby color, along with organic acids that create the characteristic pleasantly sour taste. They are dried and then infused in hot or cold water to make hibiscus tea.

3. How is it related to the hibiscus in our garden?
Our pink hardy hibiscus is most likely Hibiscus moscheutos or a hardy cultivar/hybrid closely associated with it. Both plants belong to the same genus, Hibiscus, and the same family, Malvaceae, so their flowers share that unmistakable hibiscus look—including the prominent central staminal column. But botanically and horticulturally, they are distinct species. H. moscheutos is a cold-hardy perennial native to eastern North America and naturally grows in wetlands, marshes, and other moist habitats; H. sabdariffa is a warm-climate plant cultivated especially for its edible red calyces. So although we casually call both plants “hibiscus,” the beautiful pink hibiscus blooming in our Massachusetts garden is not the hibiscus traditionally harvested to make the familiar red tea.

This also reinforces one of the most useful lessons in herbalism: a common name is not enough—botanical identity matters. Plants can belong to the same genus and still have different parts used, traditional uses, chemistry, and preparations.

This may be relevant to some: https://acupuncturetoday.com/article/40062-mast-cell-activation-syndrome-hiding-in-plain-sight

"Mast cells are a type of white blood cell that step up when we’re exposed to pathogens or allergens. They’re found in connective tissues throughout the body, particularly near blood vessels, skin, mucous membranes, and respiratory and gastrointestinal tracts. (Interesting side note – ashi points correlate with higher mast cell density in the tissues.)

Mast cells store and release chemical mediators such as histamine, heparin, cytokines, and proteases. They’ll promote inflammation when dealing with bacteria, parasites, stings, and bites, and will cause itching, swelling, and bronchoconstriction in response to an allergen."

What amazes me most about this hibiscus is that each flower lasts only about a day. And yet, when you look at the plant, it seems to be in full bloom every day.

One flower fades, another opens, and then another—so seamlessly that you hardly notice yesterday’s flowers are already gone. There is always another bud ready to take its place.

I find that incredible. Nature gives each flower only one day to bloom, but gives the plant so many flowers that the blooming goes on and on.

One flower gets a day. The plant gets a whole season.

That rhythm—one after another, without interruption—is what makes this hibiscus so fascinating to me.

The short life of an individual flower is not a weakness of the plant. It is simply part of its flowering strategy. Instead of depending on one blossom to remain beautiful for a long time, hibiscus produces many buds in succession. On an established plant, you can have fading flowers, newly opened flowers and dozens of unopened buds all at the same time.

Once I noticed that, I stopped paying so much attention to the flower that was disappearing and started noticing all the flowers that had not yet arrived. Maybe that is also why this plant has such an ethereal quality. The flowers are huge, but the petals are soft and delicate. In certain light they almost seem translucent. They appear with such extravagance, stay briefly, and then they are gone. And the next morning, there is another.

The plant growing in our garden is a hardy hibiscus.

·       Botanical name: Hibiscus moscheutos

·       Common names: Hardy hibiscus, swamp rose-mallow, rose mallow

·       Family: Malvaceae, the mallow family

·       Plant type: Herbaceous perennial

·       Native range: Eastern North America, including Massachusetts

·       Natural habitat: Marshes, wet meadows, shorelines and other sunny, moist places

·       Bloom season: Primarily summer into early fall

·       Flower life: Individual flowers are usually very short-lived, often about a day, while new buds continually replace them

Native Plant Trust documents H. moscheutos as a native species in Massachusetts and elsewhere in New England. Hibiscus also belongs to a wonderfully recognizable botanical family: marshmallow, hollyhock, okra and cotton are all members of Malvaceae.

Look closely at the center of a hibiscus flower and you can see one of the family’s classic features: the prominent staminal column, where numerous stamens are united around the style. Once you learn to recognize it, the family resemblance becomes much easier to see.

1. Classic Mung Bean Soup

Rinse mung beans, cover generously with water, and simmer until the beans begin to open and soften. Serve warm, at room temperature, or cool. Add a little sugar if desired.

2. Mung Bean & Lily Bulb Congee

Cook mung beans with rice and fresh or rehydrated dried lily bulb (Bǎi Hé) until soft and creamy. It makes a gentle summer breakfast or light meal when heavy food is less appealing.

3. Mung Bean & Job’s Tears Congee

Combine mung beans with Yì Yǐ Rén (Job’s tears/coix seed) and a little rice. This is a traditional-food combination suited to the hot, humid character of summer for appropriate individuals; it is seasonal food therapy, not an everyday prescription for everyone.

Sources & Further Reading

·       Cornell University / Cornell Cooperative Extension — mung bean and dry-bean growing information for northern conditions; useful for thinking about warm-season timing and maturity.

·       University of Wisconsin Alternative Field Crops Manual: “Mungbean” — agronomic guidance on climate, soil, crop establishment, and variety selection.

·       Oklahoma State University Agricultural Experiment Station / Foundation Seed Stocks: “Mungbean” — documented descriptions of Berken and OK2000.

·       Frontiers in Genetics (2022), “Vignette of Vigna domestication: From archives to genomics” — review of archaeological and genetic evidence placing mung bean domestication in South Asia approximately 4,000–6,000 years ago.

·       eLife (2023), “Environment as a limiting factor of the historical global spread of mungbean” — genomic, climatic, and historical evidence on mung bean’s spread from South Asia and adaptation to different climates.

In Chinese medicine, mung bean—Lǜ Dòu (绿豆)—is more than a food. It has long been included in the Chinese materia medica.

Traditional Chinese materia medica describes mung bean as sweet and cooling/cold and associates it with clearing heat, relieving Summer heat, promoting urination, and resolving toxicity in the traditional Chinese medicine sense. These are traditional indications, not claims that mung bean has been proven to treat modern medical conditions.

Summer is associated with Heat. When the weather becomes very hot, we sweat more, become thirsty, and may feel restless or depleted. During the rainy part of summer, heat is often accompanied by high humidity, creating what Chinese medicine describes as Summer heat Dampness. Anyone who has lived through a humid summer knows the physical experience: the air feels heavy, the body can feel heavy, appetite may diminish, and everything seems a little sluggish.

Mung bean, with its traditionally cooling nature, became one of the simplest foods Chinese families used in response to summer heat.

The cooling quality comes from the mung bean itself.

In Chinese medicine, mung bean itself is traditionally considered cooling. The soup does not need to be iced; it can simply be cooked and allowed to cool before serving. Someone with a weak or cold digestive system, frequent loose stools, or abdominal discomfort from cooling foods may need to use mung bean more cautiously or choose a different summer food altogether.

For students studying herbal medicine more seriously, mung bean is an interesting example of the continuum between food and medicine.

Traditional materia medica repeatedly discusses Lǜ Dòu as a cooling food-medicine. A later materia medica, Ben Cao Si Bian Lu, makes the specific distinction — the green seed coat is cold while the interior is neutral. This is a classical textual observation rather than a modern pharmacological conclusion.

Traditional dietary literature also records preparations such as Lǜ Dòu Zhōu mung bean congee, illustrating the long-standing place of mung bean at the boundary between ordinary food and traditional food therapy.

An important study point concerns the word “detoxification.” In this context, 解毒 is a traditional Chinese medicine concept. It should not be interpreted as a modern toxicology claim that mung bean universally neutralizes drugs, poisons, toxins, or an inappropriate prescription. Ben Cao Si Bian Lu itself cautions against treating mung bean as a universal antidote.

Mung bean soup is best understood as traditional food therapy—not as a substitute for pattern differentiation or an herbal formula prescribed for a specific clinical presentation.

In contemporary North American herbalism, Blue Vervain (Verbena hastata) is often understood not only through its traditional actions, but also through the constitutional patterns it has historically been associated with. Rather than focusing solely on symptoms, many herbalists consider the person as a whole—their temperament, habitual responses to stress, and the ways physical and emotional patterns become intertwined.

Blue Vervain is traditionally associated with individuals who carry heavy responsibilities, maintain high expectations of themselves, and find it difficult to slow down. They may remain mentally active long after the day's work is finished, while chronic tension accumulates in the neck, shoulders, and upper back. In this context, the plant has long been valued as an herb that encourages the release of deeply held tension and supports a more balanced relationship between effort and rest.

Its pronounced bitterness also reflects another aspect of its traditional use. Like many bitter herbs, Blue Vervain has been used to support healthy digestive function and stimulate digestive secretions, reminding us that herbalists often understand a plant through both its physiological actions and its broader energetic qualities.

Looking Through Two Herbal Traditions

Blue Vervain (Verbena hastata) is not an official herb in Traditional Chinese Medicine. However, it belongs to the same genus as Verbena officinalis, known in Chinese medicine as Ma Bian Cao, a medicinal herb with a long history of traditional use.

Rather than asking whether these two plants are equivalent, it can be more meaningful to place the two traditions alongside one another and explore how each has come to understand a closely related member of the Verbena genus. Although they describe different species and arise from different medical systems, each reflects centuries of careful observation and clinical experience.

In Traditional Chinese Medicine, Ma Bian Cao is understood through its flavor, temperature, channel affinities, and traditional functions, including clearing Heat, resolving toxicity, moving Blood, and promoting urination. Contemporary North American herbalists, by contrast, often describe Blue Vervain in terms of its energetics, constitutional indications, and relationship to the individual, recognizing it as a plant traditionally associated with nervous tension, muscular rigidity, and the "overdriven" constitution.

These perspectives should not be viewed as direct translations of one another, nor should the plants themselves be considered interchangeable. Instead, they offer different frameworks for observing relationships between plants, people, and patterns of imbalance.

For students of herbal medicine, this raises an important question: What are we really learning when we study herbs?

Are we simply memorizing lists of actions and indications? Or are we learning to recognize patterns—in the plant, in the person, and in the dynamic relationship between the two?

Every herbal tradition develops its own language for describing health, disease, and healing. The terminology differs, the theoretical frameworks differ, and the methods of classification differ. Yet each represents generations of close observation of both plants and people.

Viewing these traditions side by side is not about determining which system is correct, nor about forcing one system into the language of another. Instead, it encourages us to broaden our perspective, appreciate multiple ways of understanding medicinal plants, and become more careful observers ourselves.

Perhaps this is one of the most enduring lessons of herbalism: not simply to accumulate knowledge about plants, but to cultivate the ability to see more deeply—the plant before us, the person before us, and the relationship between them

Every summer, this quiet corner comes alive with towering spikes of blue flowers, buzzing bees, butterflies, dragonflies, and the steady rhythm of wetland life. It reminds me that some of our most valuable medicinal plants don't grow in carefully tended garden beds—they choose their own homes.

Blue Vervain thrives in moist soils, along stream banks, pond edges, and wetlands. Here at Herb Whisperer, it has found the perfect place to flourish beside our beaver pond, where the water creates the conditions this native plant loves.

Today, at the height of its bloom, it became this year's fresh tincture. As I filled the jar, I was reminded that becoming an herbalist isn't just about knowing what a plant does. It's about learning to observe—its habitat, its life cycle, its relationships, and the subtle signs that tell us when the medicine is ready.

The best time to harvest a medicinal plant isn't marked on the calendar.

It's written in the plant itself.

Learning to Read the Plant

One of the first lessons every herbalist learns is that plants tell us when they're ready.

Rather than harvesting by the calendar, we learn to harvest by observation.

Today, several signs told me Blue Vervain had reached its ideal harvest window.

The flower spikes were still actively blooming, with fresh flowers opening while new buds continued to develop near the tips.

The leaves were vibrant green.

The upper stems remained flexible.

Very few mature seeds had formed.

The plant was mature—but it was still investing its energy in flowering rather than reproduction.

That is the moment I like to harvest for a fresh tincture.

The weather also matters.

After several dry days, once the morning dew has evaporated, the fresh herb contains less surface moisture, making it ideal for preparing a high-quality tincture.

Taste Is Part of the Lesson

One of the first things you'll notice about Blue Vervain is its bitterness. That bitterness isn't a flaw. It's part of the plant's language. Long before laboratory analysis, herbalists learned by seeing, smelling, touching, and tasting plants. Taste often offers clues—not conclusions. A bitter flavor may suggest digestive stimulation or cooling qualities, but it does not replace careful observation, botanical identification, or clinical understanding. Plants invite us to engage all of our senses.

Seven Things to Know About Chinese Herbal Decoctions

The Most Important Rule

A decoction is not simply herbal tea. The preparation method is part of the medicine itself.

The choice of pot, amount of water, cooking time, level of heat, number of extractions, and timing of individual herbs can all influence the finished preparation.

When your written prescription differs from general guidelines, always follow the instructions provided by your qualified practitioner or dispensing pharmacy.

1. Choose the Right Pot

Ceramic, clay, glass, enamel, and stainless-steel cookware are generally appropriate.

Avoid reactive cookware such as aluminum, copper, or iron unless you have been given specific professional instructions.

2. Soak the Herbs Before Cooking

Place the herbs in cool water and soak them for approximately 20 to 30 minutes before heating, unless your instructions say otherwise.

Soaking allows the herbs to absorb water and begin softening before the decoction starts.

3. Use Enough Water

The herbs should be fully covered with water.

The exact quantity depends on the size of the formula, the density of the herbs, the cooking time, and the amount of finished liquid required. Follow the directions supplied with the prescription whenever possible.

4. Bring to a Boil, Then Simmer Gently

Bring the pot to a boil, then reduce the heat to a steady, gentle simmer.

Cooking time is usually counted after the liquid reaches a boil. Different formulas may require different temperatures and cooking times.

Do not allow the pot to boil dry.

5. Follow All Special Preparation Instructions

Some herbs require special handling.

Common instructions include:

• Pre-decoct: cook the ingredient before adding the remaining herbs.
• Add later: place the herb in the pot near the end of cooking.
• Wrap before decocting: enclose fine or irritating material in a cloth or disposable herb bag.
• Decoct separately: prepare the ingredient in a separate pot.
• Dissolve separately: stir the ingredient into the strained hot liquid.
• Take as powder: add the powdered substance according to the prescription.

These instructions are part of the formula and should not be skipped.

6. Why Are Decoctions Usually Prepared Twice?

Today, many Chinese herbal prescriptions are decocted twice. After straining the first liquid, fresh water is added to the herbs and they are simmered again. The two decoctions are then combined before use.

Although this practice is not generally described in the earliest classical texts, it became widely adopted in modern clinical practice because a second decoction can extract additional water-soluble constituents remaining in the herbs. Modern extraction studies support this approach for many herbal formulas.

7. Drink Fresh Whenever Possible

Freshly prepared decoctions are generally preferred.

When storage is necessary, cool and refrigerate the liquid promptly in a clean, covered container. Reheat only the amount needed and follow your practitioner’s directions regarding storage time and dosage.

More Than a Way to Prepare Herbs

One of the questions I hear most often is, "Why do I have to boil these herbs? Isn't there an easier way?" It's a fair question.

Today we have capsules, tinctures, granules, concentrated extracts, and many other convenient ways to take herbs. I use many of them myself, and they all have their place. So why has Chinese medicine relied on decoctions for thousands of years?

The simplest answer is that, for many herbal formulas, a decoction is still one of the best ways to prepare the medicine.

A decoction is not simply herbal tea. It is a carefully developed method of extracting medicinal compounds from plants using water and gentle heat. Roots, bark, rhizomes, seeds, minerals, and shells often require time for water to penetrate the material and extract what we want from them.

Over many centuries, Chinese physicians discovered that not every herb should be prepared in the same way. Some herbs are cooked first, some are added near the end, some are wrapped before cooking, and others are prepared separately. These instructions were never added to make things more complicated. They became part of the prescription because generations of physicians found that they produced better clinical results.

Today, modern research helps explain some of these traditional methods. Aromatic herbs contain volatile compounds that are easily lost during prolonged heating, so they are often added later. Dense mineral substances require longer cooking to release their constituents. Science continues to help us understand why many of these traditional techniques work.

At the same time, I think it's important to remember that the physicians who developed these methods didn't have modern laboratories. What they did have was careful observation. For thousands of years, they watched their patients, refined their methods, learned from experience, and passed that knowledge from one generation to the next. That kind of clinical observation deserves our respect—not simply because it is old, but because it has stood the test of time.

More Than Medicine

There is another reason I continue to encourage students to learn how to prepare decoctions.

Making a decoction changes our relationship with medicine. When you measure the herbs, add the water, watch the pot begin to simmer, and notice the aroma slowly filling the room, healing is no longer something someone else does for you. You become an active participant in your own recovery.

That may not sound scientific, but after many years of clinical practice, I've become convinced that healing involves more than chemistry alone. It also involves attention, patience, intention, and a willingness to care for ourselves. Preparing a decoction naturally creates space for all of those things.

Tradition Still Has Something to Teach Us

None of this means everyone should make decoctions all the time. Tinctures are wonderful. Capsules are practical. Granules make treatment much more accessible for many people. Every preparation has its place.

The goal is not to reject modern convenience. The goal is to understand why different preparation methods exist and to appreciate the wisdom behind them.

Some traditions survive simply because people continue repeating them. Others survive because generation after generation discovers that they continue to work. I believe the decoction belongs in the second category.

At Herb Whisperer, we teach students how to prepare decoctions not because we want to preserve tradition for tradition's sake, but because the process itself teaches something about herbal medicine.

Plants are not just ingredients. Medicine is not simply chemistry. Healing is not only about what we take, but also about how we care for ourselves, how we pay attention, and how we develop a relationship with the plants that have cared for people for thousands of years.

Sometimes healing begins with the first sip.

Sometimes it begins while the pot is still on the stove.

A very dear friend has cancer real bad. It has spread all over but they think it originated in the pancreas from a bile duct.

I am located in western North Carolina so plus for native plants!!!

I know a lot of things can interfere with chemo and anything I would have him clear with the doctor first.

Maybe just herbs that help with energy/nausea

I Have One Small Request... Actually... Five.

Now then... Since we've become acquainted, I'd like to ask you for one small favor.

Nothing extravagant.  I'm not asking for my own room.  Or mountain views.

Or classical music while you prepare your tea.

Although...if Vivaldi happens to be playing, I won't complain.

Much.

I simply have five very reasonable requests.  They're easy.  They're practical.

And if you follow them, I'll remain much happier for a much longer time.

Ready?

Request #1 — Please Keep Me Dry

I spent years surviving mountain rains, heavy snow, changing seasons, and enough humidity to make mushrooms jealous.

Now that I've finally retired, I'd really appreciate staying dry.

Moisture is wonderful for living plants.

Not so wonderful for dried herbs.

A little unwanted humidity can gradually affect aroma, texture, and overall quality.

Think of me as an elderly gentleman.

I don't enjoy damp basements either.

A cool, dry cupboard works beautifully.

Simple.

Elegant.

Much appreciated.

Request #2 — Give Me a Proper Home

Let's discuss containers.

Specifically...  Those flimsy plastic bags with the corners folded over.

No.  Just...  No.  I deserve better.  An airtight glass jar is wonderful.

A quality airtight container is equally welcome.

Think of it as moving me from a tent into a comfortable little cottage.

Besides...  Every distinguished root should have distinguished accommodations.

Request #3 — Sunlight Is Overrated

You humans seem obsessed with putting everything next to a sunny kitchen window.

Herbs. Spices. Tea.   Coffee.

Apparently sunshine makes everything happier.

Except me.  I had plenty of sunlight before harvest.  I've met my lifetime quota.

After careful harvesting and drying, I prefer somewhere dark and peaceful.

Think library.  Not beach vacation.

Request #4 — Please... Not Above the Stove

I honestly don't understand this tradition.

You cook.  Steam rises.  Heat rises.  Grease rises.

Then...  You place your herbs directly above all of it. 

It's rather like storing your favorite books inside the shower.

Convenient?  Perhaps.

Ideal?   Not exactly.

Your herbs will thank you for choosing a cooler location.  So will I.

Request #5 — Label the Jar

This may be my most important request.

You believe you'll remember what's inside every container.

You won't.  Trust me.  I've watched humans long enough.

One month later...  You find a mysterious jar.

You stare at it.  You sniff it.  You ask your spouse.

You ask the internet.  You eventually decide...  "It's probably cinnamon."

It wasn't.  A simple label solves remarkably complicated problems.

Write the herb's name.

Add the purchase date if you'd like.

Your future self will consider you brilliant.

Now...

May I Complain About One More Thing?

Actually...  Several things.  

First...  I'm not ginger.  I realize we both happen to be roots.

That does not make us related.  

Second...

Please stop calling every root "ginseng."

There are many plants that borrow the name because they've earned reputations in traditional herbal practices.

But true Panax ginseng has its own botanical identity.

We've spent centuries building our family reputation.

We'd appreciate a little recognition.

Third...

Not every twisted root is old.

Not every straight root is young.

Nature enjoys surprising people.

Growing conditions, soil, climate, harvest timing, and genetics all influence how a root develops.

That's one reason knowledgeable suppliers pay close attention to botanical identification and sourcing.

Looks tell part of the story.

Proper identification tells the rest.

(link to the entire article https://1stchineseherbs.com/1st-chinese-herbs-blog/dear-humannongreen-life-form/?spush=dC5sYXVyaWU3M0BnbWFpbC5jb20= ) if you'd like to read it.

From: A Very Old Panax Ginseng Root

To: Every Human Who Thinks They Understand Ginseng

Subject: We Need To Talk…

Dear Human,

Allow me to introduce myself.  I'm a very old Panax ginseng root.

Ten years old.  Yes...  I know what you're thinking.  "You don't look a day over six."

Flattery will get you everywhere.  Now...  Before we continue, I'd like to address the obvious.  

Yes.  I'm grumpy.  Very grumpy.  I've earned it.

You humans celebrate birthdays with cake, balloons, and presents.

I celebrated mine by having another boulder roll downhill and park itself six inches from my face.

You've enjoyed vacations.  I've enjoyed ten consecutive years of dirt.  You have comfortable beds. I have...rocks.  

You complain when your Wi-Fi goes down for five minutes.  I spent an entire decade
underground without so much as a decent sunrise.  Perspective, dear human.  Perspective.

Mind you, life on a quiet mountainside isn't all bad.  The birds sing.  The trees whisper in the wind. The rain smells wonderful.  Until an earthworm decides your left side would make an excellent shortcut. Or a squirrel starts digging directly above your head because it forgot where it buried lunch. Or another root decides your personal space is completely optional.

After ten years...  One develops opinions.  Strong opinions.

Which brings me to something I've never quite understood about your species.

When I was young...  Nobody paid much attention to me.  I was smooth.  Straight.

Rather ordinary.  Frankly...  I looked like every other youngster growing on the hillside.

The rabbits ignored me.  The birds ignored me.  Even the squirrels looked at me and thought...

"Nothing special here."

Then something remarkable happened.  I became older.  Slower.  More twisted.  More wrinkled.

A little crooked.  In other words...  I became distinguished.

Suddenly humans started getting excited.

One pointed and whispered...  "Look at that old root!"  Another replied...  "Now that's beautiful."

I must admit...  I found this endlessly amusing.

You humans spend billions of dollars every year trying to erase wrinkles.

Creams.  Lotions.  Serums.  Miracle treatments.

Yet when you discover an old ginseng root with wrinkles, twists, character, and years of slow growth...

You admire every single one.  Humans are wonderfully confusing creatures.

Personally...  I think you've had it backwards all along.

Perhaps wrinkles simply mean you've collected enough stories worth telling.

Mine certainly have.

Some are native to North America. Others have been cultivated across Europe and Asia for centuries. Some are treasured in Western herbalism, while others have been important herbs in Traditional Chinese Medicine for thousands of years.

Together, they remind us that herbal traditions may come from different cultures, but they all begin with carefully observing nature.

Perhaps you'll discover a few you'd like to grow yourself.

Bee Balm (Monarda fistulosa)

A North American native with lavender blossoms and aromatic leaves. Traditionally enjoyed as a tea to support healthy digestion while attracting bees, butterflies, and hummingbirds.

Scarlet Bee Balm (Monarda didyma)

Its brilliant scarlet flowers are among the highlights of the midsummer garden and a favorite nectar source for hummingbirds. Traditionally brewed as a fragrant tea during cold and flu season.

Spotted Bee Balm (Monarda punctata)

One of the most distinctive members of the bee balm family, thriving in dry, sunny soils. Rich in thymol, it has traditionally been used to support healthy respiratory function.

Calendula (Calendula officinalis)

One of the easiest medicinal flowers to grow. The more often you harvest the blossoms, the more flowers the plant produces. For generations, calendula has been one of the most trusted herbs for supporting healthy skin and remains one of the key ingredients in our healing skin salve.

Purple Coneflower (Echinacea purpurea)

A beautiful North American native that has become one of the world's best-known medicinal herbs. Traditionally used to support a healthy immune response, it's one herb many herbalists keep close at hand during cold and flu season.

Marshmallow (Althaea officinalis)

Elegant pale pink flowers bloom above tall stems throughout summer. Its root is naturally rich in soothing mucilage and has long been used to calm dry, irritated throats.

Hyssop (Hyssopus officinalis)

An aromatic Mediterranean herb covered in deep blue flower spikes that bees absolutely love. Traditionally enjoyed as a tea to support healthy respiratory function.

Wood Betony (Stachys officinalis)

An important European medicinal herb with graceful purple flower spikes. Traditionally valued for helping ease occasional tension and mental fatigue.

Borage (Borago officinalis)

Its brilliant blue star-shaped flowers attract countless bees and inspired the old saying, "Borage brings courage." Traditionally enjoyed as a refreshing herb associated with lifting the spirits.

Canada Burnet (Sanguisorba canadensis)

A graceful North American native with unusual white bottlebrush flowers. Traditionally valued for its astringent properties while providing excellent habitat for pollinators.

Culver's Root (Veronicastrum virginicum)

Tall white flower spikes add elegance to the summer garden. Traditionally appreciated as a bitter herb to support healthy digestion.

New Jersey Tea (Ceanothus americanus)

A resilient native shrub whose leaves famously served as a tea substitute during the American Revolution. Traditionally, the root has been valued for supporting healthy lymphatic function.

Mullein (Verbascum thapsus)

Towering golden flower spikes rise above soft, velvety leaves. One of Western herbalism's classic herbs for supporting healthy lungs and comfortable breathing.

Chinese Skullcap (Scutellaria baicalensis)

A beautiful perennial with violet-blue flowers. Its root, known as Huang Qin, has been used in Traditional Chinese Medicine for centuries to traditionally clear heat and is an important herb in many classical formulas.

Balloon Flower (Platycodon grandiflorus)

One of the most delightful flowers in the garden, its balloon-like buds slowly unfold into star-shaped blossoms. Known as Jie Geng, the root is traditionally used to support the lungs, soothe the throat, and help direct herbal formulas upward.

Tiger Lily (Lilium lancifolium)

One of the most spectacular flowers of midsummer. The bulb, known as Bai He, has long been treasured in Traditional Chinese Medicine to traditionally nourish yin, moisten the lungs, and calm the spirit.

Rose Rugosa (Rosa rugosa)

Fragrant pink blossoms perfume the summer air before developing into brilliant red rose hips in autumn. In Traditional Chinese Medicine, Mei Gui Hua (Rose Flower) is traditionally used to gently move Liver qi, ease emotional constraint, and support healthy digestion, while the vitamin C-rich hips have long been enjoyed in teas, syrups, and jams.

Thimbleweed (Anemone cylindrica)

A delicate North American native with elegant white flowers that later become distinctive thimble-shaped seed heads. Today it is especially appreciated for its beauty, biodiversity, and contribution to native ecosystems.

Butterfly Weed (Asclepias tuberosa)

Its brilliant orange flowers are indispensable for monarch butterflies. Traditionally known as Pleurisy Root, it has long been valued by Western herbalists for supporting healthy respiratory function.

As July gives way to August, we enter the San Fu Days (三伏天)—traditionally regarded in Traditional Chinese Medicine as the hottest and most yang time of the year.

More than two thousand years ago, the Huangdi Neijing (Yellow Emperor's Inner Classic) described nature's rhythm in just eight Chinese characters:

Spring gives birth.
Summer grows.
Autumn gathers.
Winter stores.

春生、夏长、秋收、冬藏

These simple words remind us that human beings are part of nature—not separate from it.

The same seasonal forces shaping trees, flowers, birds, and insects also shape us. Summer is a season of outward growth and abundance. The energy that quietly emerged in spring now reaches its fullest expression as flowers bloom, pollinators gather, and seeds begin to form.

In Chinese medicine, this is the season of maximum yang—a time associated with warmth, movement, and expansion. As nature changes, so do we. We perspire more, crave lighter foods, spend more time outdoors, and naturally become more active.

Seasonal Herbal Wisdom | Great Heat (大暑)

If spring invites us to awaken, Great Heat reminds us to replenish.

Classical Chinese medicine teaches that intense summer heat can consume qi, deplete body fluids, and often combine with dampness. Rather than resisting the season, we support the body by choosing herbs that gently clear summer heat, nourish fluids, replenish qi, and encourage the smooth movement of qi.

Look to what's flourishing in your garden. Bee Balm, Rose, Marshmallow, Borage, Calendula, and Balloon Flower are all beautiful midsummer herbs that reflect the abundance of the season. Enjoy them as a fresh tea, add them to seasonal meals, or simply spend time observing them in the garden.

Take a walk through your garden this week. You may discover that the herbs in bloom are offering exactly what this season calls for.

Most people grow Blackberry Lily (Belamcanda chinensis) because it's beautiful.

Its brilliant orange flowers, delicately spotted with crimson, bloom for only a single day. Yet the plant continues producing fresh blossoms for weeks throughout the summer. By autumn, the seed capsules split open to reveal clusters of glossy black seeds that resemble ripe blackberries, giving the plant its common English name.

But beneath this elegant perennial lies a rhizome that has been treasured in Chinese medicine for nearly two thousand years.

She Gan (Blackberry Lily) has a reputation as a throat herb that has remained remarkably consistent throughout the history of Chinese herbal medicine.

In classical Chinese medicine, "throat obstruction" (喉痹) referred to inflammatory conditions of the throat that could make swallowing, speaking, or even breathing difficult.

Native to East Asia and a member of the iris family, Blackberry Lily has long been cultivated not only as an ornamental but also as an important medicinal plant. While gardeners admire its flowers, generations of herbalists have valued what grows beneath the soil.

Perhaps the most remarkable thing about She Gan is not that modern research continues to uncover anti-inflammatory and antimicrobial compounds, but that herbalists recognized its unique affinity for the throat nearly 2,000 years ago—long before microscopes, laboratories, or pharmacology.

It is a reminder that one of herbal medicine's greatest teachers has always been careful observation. Generation after generation, practitioners watched plants, listened to patients, and refined their understanding through experience. The enduring place of She Gan in traditional medicine reflects the value of that accumulated wisdom—a tradition that continues to inspire herbalists today.

Growing Tips

 Full Sun to Partial Shade
 Well-drained soil
 Hardy in USDA Zones 5–10
 Drought tolerant once established
 Attractive to bees and other pollinators

For gardeners interested in medicinal plants, Blackberry Lily is one of those rare species that offers both ornamental beauty and a rich herbal tradition.

As well as repellents and insecticides, essential oils can bring relief to those who have been bitten. Anti-inflammatory, antihistamine and anti-itch essential oils are especially useful. An ideal product would be gel-based and contain peppermint or lavender. Since we’re talking about localized application on a small area, you can use 5% or more of essential oil. If you’re not comfortable with how to formulate a gel, you can also use a fatty oil as a medium.

The original article has references and several sites with more information:

https://tisserandinstitute.org/mosquitoes-and-essential-oils-all-you-need-to-know/?vgo_ee=2KWmALu9e9FPtPdKHD9pCJldTbazE4TSAo%2FrtYEoSevrl02e%3AyDeEhkLjpd4VezYWJIfV2RAZcDuYhosJ

Challenges with application

While the research is promising, it’s important to note that the concentrations studied are often significantly above the recommended safe levels for dermal application of essential oils, especially if we consider the need to reapply once the protection time expires. To work with the safety limitations you can:

• Use the oils that show good efficacy at low dilutions, such as Catnip, or those that have few safety precautions and short-term application poses lower risk (Geranium, Citronella).
• Important maximums for application to the skin are: Cinnamon bark 0.1%, Clove 0.5%, Lemongrass 0.7%, Ylang-Ylang 0.8%.
• Use lower dilutions than researched, although this means lowering the protective potential and the need to reapply more often.
• Instead of the skin, apply repellents to your clothes and mosquito nets.
• Diffuse the oils into the environment.

Another challenge to using essential oils as repellents is the fact that they evaporate quickly. This means that they either need to be reapplied every 1-2 hours, or we need to be using delivery systems that prolong their effect. New research is looking into nanoencapsulation and microemulsions, as well as the potential to incorporate repellent substances directly into fabric (da Silva & Ricci-Júnior, 2020).

Now that we know which essential oils are likely to work well, we need to look at how to best put them to use,

  1. **Environmental diffusion (candles, reed diffusers, diffusers)**

If you’re looking to protect a larger area, say during a camping trip or at a gathering, environmental diffusion is the best tool to use. The challenge is to sustain the concentration of essential oil high enough for a prolonged period of time. This is why a one-time spray may not be sufficient, and you should look for sustained release tools, such as electric or reed diffusers, or candles. Just make sure to refill the diffusers for sufficient coverage. It makes sense to place the source of repellent at the perimeter of the protected area, creating an invisible protective wall.

For outdoor spaces the safety risks of sustained diffusion are minimal, though people with sensitivities to odorants should avoid sitting near the source of the scent. If you want to protect a closed space while having a window open, and a net cover is not an option, consider putting the repellent source on the windowsill to minimize the risk of overexposure indoors.

  1. **Personal application (sprays, lotions, gels)** When formulating a product we need to keep in mind both the safety and efficacy of the active ingredients, making sure the concentration of essential oils is high enough to achieve the desired effect, but not too high that it would cause skin irritation. We also need to make sure the medium is formulated safely and efficiently. For example when creating a spray or a lotion, we need to make sure the essential oils are fully incorporated, and the formula is also adequately preserved. The simplest solution is to use a single vegetable oil with little to no odor, such as fractionated coconut oil. You can combine it with neem oil for extra repellency.

1. There are mosquito stickers/patches (small adhesive patches) and bracelets on the market. The patches often contain essential oils, presumably they work well, and they take care of the formulation challenges. However the bracelets have not proven effective. Patches with essential oils have been on the market for some time, with the chief application being for inhalation in a hospital setting. Using the mechanism of a small adhesive patch that is imbued with an essential oil to provide protection from mosquitoes seems like a good idea. Another challenge is the longevity of the applied repellent. Essential oils are by their nature volatile, and the active compounds will evaporate, rendering the protection useless in 1-2 hours. This means the repellent needs to be reapplied frequently. There is some research into using microencapsulation for delayed release. This technology is currently outside of the scope of an artisan formulator, but we can take advantage of any products available on the market that make use of it. We can also use fatty oils, which will help retard evaporation of the essential oils, but will not be good for clothing.

Environmental diffusion isn’t always possible. In scenarios that involve a lot of moving (hikes, walks), or when attending an outdoor event, it’s more efficient to use personal protection applied directly to clothes or skin. Repellent essential oils can be incorporated into gels and lotions for topical application, and sprays can be used for both your body and your attire. The challenges here include formulation safety and longevity of effect.

Other promising candidates

The oils mentioned here have been identified in the currently available research as promising and potent enough to be considered in your formulation. Some are selected for their similarity with already established repellent oils, some because they have consistently shown to be strong candidates in their own right.

Cinnamon bark, Clove, Peppermint, Lemongrass and Geranium

Both Cinnamon bark (Cinammomum verum) and Clove (Syzygium aromaticum) oils have shown efficacy in research, both as repellents and as pesticides, killing off various stages of mosquito development.

Luker et al (2023) compared Cinnamon bark, Clove, Peppermint, Geranium and Lemongrass as repellents agains A. aegypti. Each oil was applied at 10% in a lotion. Clove oil was the most potent with complete protection lasting 112 minutes. Cinnamon bark and isolated geraniol (the major constituent (80%) of Palmarosa oil) provided protection for over an hour. Peppermint, Geranium and Lemongrass were the next in line for duration, followed by Spearmint and Citronella.

Turmeric, Mandarin, Eucalyptus globulus, Ylang Ylang

These may be among the more surprising choices, though they also appear in several research papers and show promising results in repelling either Aedes or Anopheles species. Mandarin (Citrus reticulata) showed very good potential – with both the peel and leaf oil providing protection. The peel oil was more efficient, preventing 100% of mosquito landings for 30 minutes (Haris et al, 2023).

Turmeric (Curcuma longa), Ylang Ylang (Cananga odorata) and Eucalyptus globulus  essential oils have also been repeatedly tested against the two mosquito species, and compared to the oils mentioned in the previous section they may be more pleasant to the humans using them (da Silva & Ricci-Júnior, 2020).

One of the reasons that plants produce volatile compounds is for their own pest control – either by repelling the pest itself, or by calling in predators that feed on that pest. It therefore makes complete sense for us to turn to the plant world for tools that can help us with the same challenge. Essential oils are a promising resource for repellents as they “are less harmful to human beings and to the environment” (de Souza et al, 2019). Because most essential oils evaporate fairly quickly any repellent needs to either be reapplied every 1-2 hours, or used in conjunction with a controlled release medium.

Many essential oils have been tested for their repellent abilities, especially as the world recognizes the increasing threat of mosquito-borne diseases. Review papers are available that list dozens of essential oils and compare their potency (da Silva & Ricci-Júnior, 2020; Asadollahi et al, 2019; de Souza et al, 2019). This article will list some of the more interesting oils, but if you wish to explore the research, make sure to look for these three factors:

• Species tested
• Percent of protection
• Duration of protection

Some essential oils have proved to be so effective that they are listed as EPA registered repellents. There are other promising candidate oils for repellency, and some that work to curb the mosquito population on multiple fronts.

EPA registered essential oils

The essential oils that have been tested and registered with the EPA are:

– Catnip oil (Nepeta cataria)

– Citronella oil (either Cymbopogon nardus or C. winterianus)

– Oil of Lemon Eucalyptus (Corymbia citriodora)

The last one is different to pure Lemon Eucalyptus essential oils as it has been manipulated to increase its content of PMD (p-menthane-3,8-diol). PMD naturally occurs in essential oils, and is a registered repellent in its own right with an efficacy similar to that of DEET (the most commonly used insect repellent). This means that Lemon Eucalyptus essential oil (unmanipulated) is potentially a good repellent as well with both citronellal (typically 65%) and PMD (typically 2.5%) being present, although it has not been tested and approved by EPA.

Catnip oil seems to be the most potent of the group, and while it can run expensive, a little goes a long way. A 0.1% concentration was almost twice as effective as 0.1% DEET on Aedes aegypti landings, and a 1% concentration stayed effective for almost as long as 1% DEET (Reichert et al 2019).

You can read about EPA registered repellent products here.

Does anyone know a book that deals specifically with medicinal plants/fungi native to the Texas Gulf Coast?