Showing posts with label herbs. Show all posts
Showing posts with label herbs. Show all posts

Wednesday, 16 May 2012

This Gambling Life


The trouble with writing a book blog is that I discover so many books I want to read, and I'm like a child in a sweet-shop with ten cents in the hand, what to choose first!


A library cast-off called 'A Herb for Every Ill', by Audrey Wynne Hatfield, with 24 drawings by the author, is definitely not your run-of-the-mill book on herbs. It's published by J.M. Dent & Sons Limited of London in 1973, and is as usual defiled by 'withdrawn from stock' stamps and glue residue, but once I opened it I was lost to the world. There are a lot of the usual herbs such as borage and rosemary in it, but also many we are used to calling weeds – for instance, you know that plant called cleavers, the foliage of which clings to your clothes whenever you meet it, or couchgrass, the bane of many orderly gardeners' lives, known as scutch in Ireland, or how about chickweed, lesser and greater bindweed, burdock (the one with the prickly seedcases that come in on dogs and trouser legs), well, according to this book these are all useful medicinal herbs. I must admit that I would be slow to try them myself, but at the same time reading about them is entrancing and educational. Dioscorides, the medical officer of Nero's armies, swore by plantain for curing ulcers, sores and wounds. However, I must say I was a bit put-out to see convallaria recommended for various uses in the book. Known by its common name of Lily of the Valley, I understand it can be fatal if taken internally. I was a bit surprised to read that it has often been used as a substitute for Digitalis (foxglove) “and some doctors prefer it because it does not accumulate in the blood and is not poisonous.” I wouldn't be too sure about that. So I'll just be reading this book, definitely not trying the plants out for myself.


'Toasts for Every Occasion' by Jennifer Rahel Conover, published by New American Library, New York, in 2001, is a nice little paperback which I seem to remember being given as a gift years ago. It's full of snippets like - 'Hangovers - Here's to the good time I can't remember! ' - Irish -

Well, naturally, it would be! We know all about good times we can't remember, not all alcohol-induced, I assure you, not since the boom bombed. Here's something Ingrid Bergman apparently said “Happiness is good health and a bad memory.” How about this - “The love you give away is the only love you keep” - Elbert Hubbard. I've no idea who he was, but there is a lot of truth in that. I can't resist these two about psychiatrists:

“To my psychiatrist,
  He finds you cracked
  And leaves you broke."

And:

"To the psychiatrist,
A person who doesn't have to worry
As long as other people do.”

Ok, I promise I'll stop there.






The Irish in Love', another library throw-out complete with the remains of torn-off labels, paste and goodness knows what else, was written by Sean McCann and published in 1972 by The Talbot Press of Dublin. On the inside we read that it was printed on Caxton Antique Weave paper – oh, how have the mighty fallen. I haven't read much of it, but I plan to. The chapters have titles such as: “The Eye of the Beholder”, “Woman's Place”, “Hatches and Matches”, “The Way to Get a Man”, “How to Get a Woman”, “The Dowry”, and “Proposal and Wedding”, I saw a couple of funny stories in there. One was of a man who went with the matchmaker to a house and found the lady he fancied absent visiting an aunt. While the matchmaker got on with his business, the would-be groom got talking to the lady's sister who was knitting in the corner, and before the night was out, he decided he might as well have her instead. And they say women are fickle! Another story was of a match made, everything arranged, and the bride at the altar. The groom didn't appear, and eventually a report came to the wedding party that he had been seen driving cattle towards the local fair, obviously having forgotten his appointment. The groomsman, having had time to study the bride at his leisure, volunteered himself in place of the groom, the bride accepted, and the job was done. Apparently those made matches were often very happy, who is to say they were less fortunate than a lot of legalised partnerships today!


I was very much struck by “The Penguin Book of Historic Speeches”, edited by Brian MacArthur for The Penguin Group, London, in 1996. It is a thickish paperback in very good condition, and I think I recall finding it at the recycling centre. The speeches date from ancient times – Moses, Pericles, Socrates etc., right through to a speech in 1994 by Nelson Mandela. I glanced through and found a very topical contribution by Mirabeau in September 1789 which shows that times haven't changed all that much where a nation's bankruptcy is concerned, and that the wealthy are as little eager to come to the aid of their nations:



Here is the start of a speech by King James 1 of England which is stunning by today's standards for its sheer arrogance:

“The state of monarchy is the supremest thing upon earth; for kings are not only God's lieutenants upon earth, and sit upon God's throne, but even by God himself they are called Gods...".


You know what they'd say to that fellow nowadays: “Get over yourself, love!”

Nowadays the shoe is on the other foot. It takes a sturdy and sterling character to be a royal personage in this age. Who would enjoy the countless comments on one's ears and other features considered outside the norm, the note taken of skirt length and grey streaks and dark roots; the nation takes it on itself to criticise diet and the amount of liquor consumed on the part of its royals – they are a kind of toy for the citizens; their lives in many respects must be unbearable; and then, to crown it all, forgive the pun, every penny they spend must be accounted for, everything they say scrutinised and analysed. I'm not sure that is any life at all, and the only escape is by dying.

When we read that in 1641 Thomas Wentworth, the Earl of Strafford, was beheaded before a crowd of 200,000, (having made a couple of fine speeches for this Penguin volume in preceding days), the first thought is that that is not so long ago – hopefully nations that now allow the same type of bloodsports will soon cop on to themselves and realise that all men should be treated with dignity no matter how much you disagree with them; the second thought is: how did they know it was 200,000? Who was counting?

Anyway, for anyone interested in history, this is a great book, and even for those who are not, there's lots of food for thought here.

Lastly I come to a gift from the government, the Irish government, I must clarify, to each and every household in the nation. It is I suppose a booklet more than a book, not bound, just stapled together, and it is entitled 'The Stability Treaty – Your Guide' - with 'Stabililty' in large yellow letters on a sombre navy blue background. This is indeed a sombre and sobering matter. Here we are, swimming in a morass of debt – not all of us, believe it or not – but the powers that be would have it so – and once again we are to vote in our own good old democratic way for a change in the Constitution (or against it, of course – let's have balance here) and if we vote 'No' there is little doubt that we will be voting again, and again, until we get sense and give the right answer. I feel sad for my countrymen because some seem to think if they vote 'Yes' the boom will come back; others will vote 'Yes' because they are scared silly. So, is that any state of mind to be in when you are voting for or against a change in your nation's Constitution? The fact is that we are children. It is only a matter of years since we got the right to govern ourselves. We didn't make too bad a job of it at first, I'll give you that much.that is, when we got over killing one another. We had our own sugar factories, we survived on our small farms; if we had had religious freedom too it would have been really something. Now our world is turned upside down. I was shocked to hear a government minister say on TV that Greece had little to do with us, we didn't put many Greek goods in our supermarket baskets. And he laughed. Is that what Europe is about? I thought it was about co-operation and standing together and facing the world as a unit. I didn't vote for it, but I thought that was what it was about. So take up your little book that the government sent you, and don't look a gift-horse in the mouth, read it, right through. Then go out, find a good horse who doesn't have such a big mouth, and put your shirt on him. You could do a lot worse.




I would like to thank my wonderful son Sam for all the great book photos he has taken for me over the course of the last few months.

Sunday, 15 April 2012

Green Hope


The sun is shining and the sky is blue; the first swallows have arrived and the world is, as Verga said, green with hope. These are the things of life that are real. There are books which go well with this new world, this mother universe outside the artificiality of economic systems; any attempt to grab and stash the fruits of these works results in empty fists. These are the writings which convert words miraculously into joys, joys far more concrete than the flimsy solids of the materialistic world.

One of the great free joys is to learn even a little of a new language. In that way you can visit the hearts, minds and spirits of another nation without any of the hassle which is part of physically going there. That is how I found Giovanni Verga's short story 'Pane Nero', with the words which enhance my thoughts now that spring is here: “La primavera cominciava a spuntare dappertutto, nelle siepi di fichidindia, nelle macchie della viottola, fra i sassi sul tetto dei casolari, verde come la speranza;.... “ The story is in 'Tutte le novelle' Volume Primo (Part One), and my copy was published in 1996 by Anoldo Mondadori Editore in Milan. I am not fluent in Italian, but I have managed to read and embrace those words.

                                                        





Herbs For Health And Cookery' by Claire Loewenfeld and Philippa Back, published by Pan Books Ltd. London, in 1965, is a book I have owned for a long time. It is a book about the goodness of herbs, and how to use them both in cooking and in healing. The herbs are described and then recipes for using them in salads, herbal teas, washes and compresses are given in plenty. Above is the recipe for Cheese Soufflé and a Bread and Cheese Pie.

 While I have the cookery books open, I found a great recipe in the Amish Country Cookbook, Volume 1, which was published by Bethel Publishing, Elkhart, Indiana, U.S.A., and edited by Bob and Sue Miller. The book consists of pages and pages of recipes submitted by Amish cooks and gathered by Das Dutchman Essenhaus. This book is a truly wonderful resource, rescued from the recycling centre.                                                                




“ Cocoa Drop Cookies (Unbaked)

Boil together 5 minutes:

2 c. (cups) white sugar
1/2 c. cocoa
1/2 c. milk
1/2 c. butter
1 t. (teaspoon) vanilla

Mix well with 3 c. Quick oats. Drop by spoonfuls on waxed paper and cool.

(Edna Mae Schmucker (Dishwasher)

Now that isn't going to take up too much time to make for your brood. The names of the contributors and their vocations are almost as fascinating as the recipes themselves.

I mentioned before that gardening is one of the joys of my life. It doesn't really matter which gardening book you take up at this time of the year, almost any one will feed your habit while it's dark outside. Royton E. Heath wrote “Miniature Rock Gardening in troughs and pans”, published by W.H. & L. Collingridge Ltd. London in 1957. If you grow any of the plants he recommends in this you can be sure they will be very small. Even more wonderfully, he shows you how to construct the troughs in which to grow them. Having said this, I myself use a miscellany of old fish boxes, very large tubs and old sinks to grow mine. These miniature plants are magic. The other day I found myself gazing in wonder at Anemone lippiensis, which lives underground for a large part of the year. It had emerged in a matter of days, little golden-yellow bowls smaller than the tip of your little finger, lying on green lacy beds of leaves; they are for all the world like miniature peonies. One whole garden of treasures like these can be sited just outside a back door, to be enjoyed no matter what the weather, and every day something new appears.

Growing fruit is something you can do for almost nothing too. The best way may be to find a good variety of apple or pear in a nursery, but you can also grow all kinds of fruit plants from pips and stones, and eventually they will flower and bear fruit. Of course a certain sort of gardener will enjoy telling you that either they will not flower at all, or the fruit they bear, if you should be so lucky, will not be up to much. A week ago I looked at a tub where I am growing a red-leaved apple tree, grown from a pip on a whim about seven years ago, and I saw to my excitement that it has little clusters of buds. It wasn't a question of patience, for there is always too much going on in a garden to sit around waiting for things to happen; those seven or so years have flown, and now my little tree is about to flower. What joy! If you want to read a very good and easy to read book on growing fruit trees, “Growing Fruit” by Roy Genders is one of the very best. Roy Genders is a name to look out for no matter what the garden subject, by the way. This book is in The World Of The Garden series, edited by Alan Gemmell, and I see now that it is actually a Teach Yourself Book by Hodder and Stoughton, published in 1979, which I hadn't noticed before, since I bought it at a school sale many years ago.

Collins Tree Guide, published by HarperColllins in 2004, written by Owen Johnson and illustrated by David More, will lead you to another source of happiness. We are surrounded by trees, but many of us do not know their names, except perhaps the commonest, such as Oak, Sycamore, Holly...it adds to the pleasure of walking in the countryside to know the names of its trees, those creatures great and small without which all life on earth would be unsustainable, and who give to us every living breath we take. It seems a courtesy after that to learn what they are called.

How about a little book just to look through, to calm the spirits, to enjoy just for itself? 'Japanese Style', by Suzanne Slesin, Stafford Cliff, and Daniel Rozensztroch, with photographs by Gilles De Chabaneix, published by Clarkson Potter/Publishers, New York 1994, is a small, colourful book of pictures from Japan, showing Japanese style indoors and out. I don't know why this little work, showing empty rooms and snatches of courtyards should be calming, but it is. Sometimes the pictures are taken through a partly-open door, sometimes they are merely of a hallway or a length of carpet, an open doorway to the outside or a window frame; it reminds me of what you see as a very young child, not knowing for sure what it is, but because you are confined to your cot or seat or wherever until someone deigns to move you, you gaze at the same view, pondering. This too is a magic book. Found with joy at the recycling centre.

From Amazon I bought 'The Haiku Anthology', edited by Cor Van Den Heuvel, and published by W.W. Norton & Co., New York and London, in 1999. On the cover it says ' Over 800 Of The Best English Language Haiku And Related Works' . It is just simply a beautiful book, one to carry with you when you know you are going to have to wait somewhere; it is full of verbal snapshots; the meaning I get from one of these little poems may not be the same as the one you get; it doesn't matter; what I think of the flying swallow I see and what you think of it need not be the same; that is just another joy of life for which there is no payment to be made. The name Haiku has come from the Japanese, and I know these poems are far from their origins. It doesn't matter.


Here are two:

“A plastic rose
rides the old car's antenna -
spring morning”                                             
                                 by Elizabeth Searle Lamb
                                                               

“She's running for office -
for the first time
my neighbour waves.”
                                               by Alexis Rotella


I love them all. Of course, some more than others.

That dear friend I lost last year introduced me to Haiku. Such a gift lasts forever.