Seasonally inspired things to Learn, Make and Do

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Foraging for wood sorrel

wood sorrel

Earlier this week, walking in the woods that fringe the East bank of Loch Lomond I spotted wood sorrel (Oxalis acetosella) for the first time this year. It is likely to be there for the next couple of months.

Wood sorrel is a perfect walkers plant - it has leaves that can't be confused with anything toxic, so you can eat it as you walk. It is like sherbet, lemony, sparkly on the tongue, refreshing.

Traditionally it has been used to quench thirst on long walks.

Like many other spring plants it contains oxalic acid (rhubarb is another sherbety-sour spring plant) to give it a kick. Though oxalic acid shouldn't be consumed in quantity you would need to eat kilos of wood sorrel leaves to cause any problems.

wood sorrel recipe

Wood sorrel grows under trees - often rooting into fallen trees and branches on the forest floor. Its leaves look a little like clover but hang back like a pinched handkerchief. The flowers are white with feint purple veins.

Cooking dulls the sweet/sour kick of these leaves - I think the best way to eat it is on the hoof, strolling along, relishing the acidic pop in your mouth. If you want to add it to meals I feel that it is best kept raw, as a vibrant accent to a salad, or sprinkled on top of a risotto right at the last minute. It is a favourite of fashionable scandi- chefs and I have even seen it added as a garnish to gin cocktails.

Always forage for wild plants responsibility - I have put together a Good Foraging Code with the main things to think about before you pick anything.

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wood sorrel recipe

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Seraphina's eleven babies have grown so fast.⁠⠀
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Now when she tries to gather them under her - usually if she hears the buzzard overhead - they all head under her feathers but their heads and tails stick out the side.⁠⠀
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She seems unperturbed and a little like an overstuffed tea cosy.
I think that the last time I had this wooden clothes horse out was when we needed to dry cloth nappies c. 2001.⁠⠀
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The plant dyed alpaca house socks have all cured now, the dye is well sunk into the fibres, so over the past couple of days I've been washing and pressing and packaging them.⁠⠀
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The link to the shop page for them will go out in Friday's newsletter first - the actual newsletter is all about the dye deck and if you want to get it straight into your inbox you can sign up on the website www.snapdragonlife.com or through my profile.⁠⠀
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These were all dyed with tansy - the very yellow ones from the plant at the top of the Studio meadow, the slightly more orange ones from the plant down by the Studio door.
Last year, in the spring,  I got a tiny amount of seed of a grey Shirley poppy. ⁠⠀
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I sowed half and gave half to @gracealexanderflowers .⁠⠀
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None came up, in my garden at least.⁠⠀
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This year two plants have appeared - a little fey and wan as Shirley poppies go, but with definitely grey flowers. ⁠⠀
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Well kind of a purply grey . . . and if I'm honest I prefer the rich plums of Pandora . . . but It is eminently instagrammable.
Yesterday Seth Godin wrote that instead of getting our ideas spread like wildfire (uncontrolled, destructive, leaving nothing) we should get them to spread like wildflowers instead.⁠⠀
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I loved this idea.  Ideas that self seed and spread in groups, ideas that place themselves where they are happiest, where they can thrive.⁠⠀
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Ideas that take root in unpromising places and bring joy.

These daisies moved into the top of the Studio Meadow last year- spreading from the garden rather than the fields- but wilding themselves none the less.
A bright new morning starting a bright new week. ⁠⠀
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A row of dog daisies and love in a mist, fresh and light and optimistic.⁠⠀
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I feel like I'm hovering on the edge of planning things outside my studio this week. It is tentative.⁠⠀
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Today I have a meeting about something that will involve me leaving the premises. I'm part excited, part terrified - I think they are probably the same things in many ways.⁠⠀
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I'm building up to going on holiday in a few weeks. It feels vertiginous.  I definitely need to build my social muscles back up.⁠⠀
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The globe thistles shouldn't be there. ⁠⠀
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It was meant to be a temporary nursery bed.⁠⠀
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They were a root cutting from my parents' garden - memories of pulling off the heads as missiles.⁠⠀
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It is the perfect place for them.⁠⠀
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Low sun barrels along the path as the gloaming comes. ⁠⠀
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They glow in the golden hour.⁠⠀
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I leave the heads alone.
Of all the half hardy annuals that are beginning to flower here, I think that cosmos purity is my favourite. ⁠⠀
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Happy and light and generous with its flowers.⁠⠀
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As you pick it, the foliage smells that dense herby/incense way that is perfect for the late summer/early autumn time.
Yesterday I was chatting to Eileen, who volunteers in the garden on Wednesday mornings, about how the Studio meadow changes in the light.  In particular how the warmer light in August - especially the soft evening light - makes everything glow.⁠⠀
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Walking back from checking things at work I snapped these big daisies with a speckle of purple loosestrife behind them.  Softly glowing.⁠⠀
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About Snapdragon Life

At Snapdragon Life I gently guide you through bringing the changing seasons into your daily life, helping you slow down, so that you can experience increased well being, calm and creativity.

Through my communities, both free and paid for, through my writing on the blog, through carefully hand crafted activity kits, and through my online and in-person workshops I aim to bring people back in touch with the rhythms of a seasonal life.

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