I was a walking and talking cliché today: floaty skirt, tick. Floppy hat, yep. Large wicker trug with secateurs, indeed. I tell you I was positively swanning about looking like a magazine lifestyle page today.
But here is another bit of lifestyle harvesting I did this week. St John’s wort. Hypericum. Millepertuis.
Our terraces are teeming with the unassuming yellow plant.
I found that out while I was plodding down in search of verbascums that need cutting down before they flower. I think I’ve caught the lot. But I’m fooling myself if I think I can control this noxious weed on our farm. All it will take is a good stiff southerly wind when the seeds are ripe and the ones further down the mountain will blow up and settle and drive me mad.
That meant that once I had done an internet search and picked all the grass seeds out of my socks. It was back down with a large glass kilner jar and I collected enough for a big batch for her. And one small one for me.
Right now they are sitting in the full blazing sunshine with olive oil coming up three quarters of the way up the jar.
Apparently I have to wait a few days until the while mixture turns red. And then another few weeks before it settles down to a pinkish soup. Strain and bottle and all my ills will be cured.
I wonder if it has restorative powers for sciatica?
If any of you use it, let me know. I’m curious to find out.