It’s hard to believe it, but just a year ago this lush, fragrant, bee-buzzing cornucopia of flowering herbs was a bare patch of charred ash. The field containing our beloved forest garden had been tinder-dry, and it took just a casual spark to set it alight. The blaze was mercifully contained to a relatively small area, but it’s clear now that not only did the fire fail to destroy the forest garden, it has fuelled an incredible green recovery – thanks in part to the decision taken to turn one corner into a herbal patch.
It’s been mizzling rain and scattering sun, on and off, for at least a month now. The air is humid and cool, and everyone’s got used to dressing in layers. A group of us have come to the herbal area to learn about some of the plants from a medicinal herbalist, Helen Kearney. Beneath her natty felt fedora, Helen’s face is alight with excitement. She runs her fingers through the white daisy-like flowers and feathery fronds of Roman chamomile, fluffing it up like a bouffant. “Smell that! Amazing. It’s so pungent. For tea, you only need two flowers per cup.”
