The letter for taday is A, where I talk about Allium ursinum & Affectionate.
The wild garlic Allium
grows under tall trees opposite our little string of cottages on the old Roman
road leading from London to St Albans.
In springtime, the plants display white frothy flowers. The roots look like
spring onions and chefs use the leaves in dishes to infuse a garlic flavor.
Fresh leaves can promote digestion and lower blood pressure. Chopped leaves can
grace salads and salads or be cooked in soups and stews.
I must admit to employing the healing herb in the futuristic
a series of novels written with my German co-author, Edith Parzefall. Two are already published—see at the side of the page. In the
four novels, Cerridwen uses wild garlic to wrap wounds, to heal bruises and to
give affectionate care and comfort
to the people she tends. No healing works without an expression of deep concern. As an author, I predicted the spread of her
healing herb throughout Britland after the apocalypse. The bulbous roots of the
allium divide and conquer the
surrounding area in a bee-affectionate,
frothy-white spring display—rather like a hug that will soon be withdrawn when
the flowers die, leaving the pungant leaves.
Proverb: Absence makes the heart grow fonder.
