The solution to kudzu: Eat it.

April 1, 2025August 20, 2025 Leave a comment

The other day, I posted a video of foraging and processing kudzu roots to a group I’m a part of. A few friends seemed interested — one messaged me that they knew of a potential patch. That weekend, armed with trowels, bags, and gloves, we set out to track us down some kudzu.

If you’re in the southeastern US and you do any kind of gardening, the word “kudzu” may well strike fear into your heart. As Nature.org‘s “Kudzu: The Invasive Vine that Ate the South” puts it, “kudzu is quite a killer, overtaking and growing over anything in its path.” Drive down a highway, and it’s not uncommon to see it choking out trees, climbing over fences, and dragging down powerlines.

*Insidious kudzu vines have overwhelmed by Carol M Highsmith is licensed under CC-CC0 1.0*

In short, we were more than happy to learn how to eat some.

In its native range, kudzu is still an aggressive grower. It’s not invasive, of course, because a native plant by definition can’t be invasive. One of the things that helps keep kudzu in balance is the fact that it’s useful as a food and medicinal plant. People regularly harvest it to eat as a root vegetable and process into starch.

There’s only one problem: It was very early spring. There were no leaves on anything. Identifying it meant looking for a specific kind of brown twig in a mass of other brown twigs, then trying to follow it back to the ground, dig there for a while, and hope it had led to something resembling a kudzu root. Fortunately, kudzu doesn’t have many lookalikes, and its hairy stems and growth habit help to differentiate it.

Also, kudzu roots get enormous.

My Handsome Assistant is a powerlifter. Even with him pulling and our friend and me digging, it still took a lot of time to liberate several fairly small roots. Still, it was a success and, I figured, I decent amount for a first attempt. Nothing we’d have to bust out a table saw to cut through. Just enough to hopefully end up with some starch (and give us the opportunity to decide if it was worth the effort).

A small clump of kudzu roots in a stainless steel sink. — *Some of the kudzu roots, trimmed from a larger one.*

Tl;dr, I’m probably just going to make them into a stew next time. Maybe paper.

Processing the kudzu roots involved scrubbing them well, peeling away their tougher, fibrous outsides, cutting them into chunks, and pureeing them well with plenty of water. Once pureed, we strained the pulp, squeezed it out, rinsed it, squeezed it out again, and poured the liquid into large jars to let the starch settle to the bottom.

It was that last bit that proved the most problematic.

See, we’d hoped to get the roots before they used their stored energy (in other words, starch) to put out a flush of new spring growth. However, the roots we got were small and fairly skinny (which is probably for the best — we might’ve needed a backhoe for big ones). The little bit of starch that settled out ended up lost during the refinement and decanting process.

Still! It was an interesting learning experience. I’d definitely change how we did some things (like I mentioned, I’d love to try preparing the smaller roots in other ways, like roasting or stewing). I also have a mold and deckle and, considering that starch is used as sizing for papermaking, I’d like to try using the pulp to extract most of the starch and, rather than discarding/composting the pulp, see how it works in paper.

I’ve also heard that the flowers smell like grape candy and can make a jam that tastes like something between apple and peach. Since I’ve had really good results making rose petal confiture, I’m excited to try making some with kudzu flowers.

So, obtaining some kudzu starch may have been a bust this time, but I have ideas!

Does AI have a place in witchcraft?

March 19, 2025August 20, 2025 Leave a comment

I discovered a YouTuber fairly recently, GrumpyOldCrone. I find her videos delightful — she’s talented and funny, and it’s refreshing to hear someone else complain about the same minor things that I find annoying, but don’t really have anyone else with which to gripe about them. She’s fun. I like her. You might, too.

Two months ago, she posted a video about AI’s increasing presence in witchcraft circles:

I watched it when it first came out, I agreed with it, and it recently popped up again for me. So, I thought I’d reiterate it here: I wholeheartedly agree that artificial intelligence doesn’t have a place in witchcraft.

Like, literally anywhere.

When it comes to spellcraft, why would the Universe heed something that nobody could be bothered to actually make? The process of performing a spell starts long before you’ve lit the candles, said the chants, et cetera. On top of that, a lot of thought, research, and history goes into developing a good magical working. A generative AI that pulls concepts from various internet spells (some of which are already highly questionable on their own) and mashes them together isn’t doing that. If it has any results at all, they’re likely to be unpredictable at best.

When it comes to herb lore, it’s a bad idea to trust a web-based hallucination machine to give advice. There are already problems with computer-generated foraging guides allegedly “written” by authors that have never existed. Of course, human error is also a thing. (As evidenced by that crystal worker who put an ore of mercury in a fire, and that lifestyle blogger who put out a cookbook that included a recipe for raw, chocolate-dipped morels.) This is why it’s important to read multiple sources, and to both vet and question what you read. This is getting increasingly difficult as it is as AI models begin to poison the well of their own information — if kludging together flawed information was a problem to begin with, it’s one that’s only getting worse as more computer-generated “guides” enter the info pool.
Have you ever seen the movie Multiplicity?
It’s like that, but with more poison.

Obtaining this information doesn’t have to be expensive or challenging, either. There are tons of Pagan, witchcraft, foraging, and nature crafting communities online, and in real life via Meetup groups. A library card and an app like Libby can give you access to tons of e-books. Scribd offers a free trial, during which you can straight-up download your choice of 3 books in PDF form. I have read some fascinating research on historical magical artifacts and techniques through Academia, for free. If you’re looking for instruction in a specific technique, Udemy often has sales where their courses are as low as $10 a pop.
The only challenge is that the seeker actually has to consume it and absorb this information themselves. It isn’t as easy as asking ChatGPT for instructions, then following them. Few worthwhile pursuits are.

I also want to take a second to bitch about the uptick in AI generated Pagan “art.” My objections here are twofold: For one, I hate that artists are having their actual work taken, mashed up, and squirted out of the digital equivalent of a Play-Doh Fun Factory as something with too many fingers and its legs on backward. I also hate that so much of it is legitimately ugly and bad. I’ve gone to marketplaces and seen a lot of Pagan-flavored AI slop, and it’s honestly really disheartening. I’m not exactly stoked about the proliferation of the same handful of resin mold and 3D printed designs either, but at least they require a modicum of effort (and have the right number of limbs).

Some things take time and work, and there isn’t really a way around that. The “industry disruption” phenomenon doesn’t work in every context, and this is one of them. AI is not making witchcraft more accessible; it’s providing something that poorly apes it. Even if it were to improve, it isn’t a substitute for learning from a human, or for community, or tradition, or genuine artfulness.

While there are some things that modern AI models can do and do much better than humans (accurately diagnosing certain medical conditions, for one, or processing phenomenally large amounts of data into a useful form and suggesting a course of action), witchcraft isn’t it.

Plants and Herbs

Angelica Root Folklore and Magical Uses

July 17, 2024July 17, 2024 J.Leave a comment

Recently, my Handsome Assistant experienced a minor vehicular mishap. He was on a motorcycle, so things could’ve been a lot worse, but his injuries weren’t too serious and he’s recovering well.

When he first got his bike, I made him a safe travel charm that he’s kept with him everywhere he rides. He’s dodged the “serious motorcycle accident” bullet, and it could use a refresh. This got me thinking about protective charms in general, which, naturally, led me to what’s probably one of the strongest of them all: angelica root.

Seriously. It’s probably a little too good at what it does, but more on that below.

Angelica Magical Properties and Folklore

An old botanical illustration of angelica. The caption at the bottom reads, "Angelica aquatica radice odoratissima floribus ex alboflavescentibus. Ital. Angelica maggiore odorata. Gall. Angelique."

Also known as wild celery, masterwort, and archangel, angelica (Angelica archangelica) and celery are related as members of the family Apiaceae. Angelica archangelica is native to far northern Europe and Russia. Another species known as angelica, masterwort, or purple-stemmed angelica (Angelica atropurpurea) is native to wet areas in the eastern US.

The name angelica derives from the plant’s blooming period. Its flowers typically appear around Michaelmas, the feast of the Christian Archangel Michael.

In both Western European folklore and the Hoodoo tradition, angelica is associated with protection, particularly from evil spirits. It’s also occasionally used to break hexes, jinxes, or curses, depending on their nature.

Purple-stemmed angelica (A. atropurpurea) has a long history of use as both a sacred and medicinal plant by Indigenous people of the southeastern US. It could calm anxiety, ease back pains, soothe stomach trouble, and treat parasites in children. It’s also used in healing ceremonies and as a purification herb. This puts purple-stemmed angelica in the same group as many other purification herbs the world over — namely, herbs that both drive off evil or unwanted energy, and get rid of physical parasites or pests.

Angelica is also sometimes associated with luck, love, and psychic abilities. This may be because it’s so good at keeping unwanted interference at bay — combined with other herbs more directly suited to these purposes, it can keep one’s magical path clear.

On the other hand, angelica also has a reputation for being a bit too good at what it does. According to the (no longer extant) Pooka Pages’ “Concerning the Magical Properties of Herbs & Oils,” angelica may also keep away some things that you do want. If you’re attempting to use it to help you attract something into your life, it’s a good idea to keep this in mind — sometimes, those things aren’t without risk, so angelica may not be the best choice.

An angelica relative, A. sinensis, is also known as lady ginseng or dong quai. It grows in cool, mountainous areas of east Asia, and has a long history of use in Chinese medicine.

Using Angelica

Honestly, there are few protective charms more convenient than a whole angelica root. They’re sort of lumpy and oblong, but firm, compact, and easy to stash in a pocket, bag, sachet, or any other container. I’ve never had one that was crumbly or messy, either.

Hold it in your dominant hand, tell it what you’d like it to do, project this thought, request, or energy into the root, thank it for its help, and you’re good to go. You can also anoint it with an oil, if you’d like.

You can hang a whole angelica root over your front and back doors to keep unwanted forces out or bury a root at each corner of your property.

A budding wild angelica plant (Angelica sylvestris).

Soak an angelica root in water, then add the water to a floor or door wash, sprinkle it in corners of a room, or pour it along the borders of your property to ward off evil and strengthen magical boundaries.

Angelica roots also make lovely additions to protective oils themselves. Put it in a neutral carrier oil and let it infuse in a cool, dark, dry area, shaking it regularly. If you want a stronger fragrance, add essential oils just before you bottle the finished product. For this, you might want angelica root pieces rather than the whole root — it’ll have an easier time transferring its fragrance to the oil if it has more surface area.

Since the roots are fragrant themselves, and hold other fragrances well, they’re great additions to potpourri or other scented herb mixtures.

You can also eat A. archangelica stems and roots. However, you may not be able to find them in your local grocery store, and they can be challenging to identify in the wild. They have several poisonous lookalikes, so you should never consume anything that you’ve only tentatively identified as angelica. Unless you’re an expert forager yourself, get an expert forager’s opinion first. As the saying goes, you should be as confident identifying a wild edible as you would be identifying it in a grocery store. Otherwise, don’t eat it.

Angelica may not be the most versatile magical plant, but it’s one worth knowing. It’s one of the best at what it does, sometimes to the point of being too effective. It’s one of those herbs that I find it’s better to have on hand and not need, than to need and not have on hand. Whole roots aren’t too expensive, and you can use them to steep in water for magical baths, washes, or asperging, infuse them in oil, or use them whole as protective talismans.

Plants and Herbs

The robot uprising is here, and they’re trying to kill us with bad foraging advice.

November 13, 2023November 12, 2023 J.1 Comment

When foraging, it’s said that you should be as confident identifying edible plants in the wild as you are in a grocery store. Foragers also say that the best way to learn is to have an experienced person to guide you. Not everyone has access to someone like that, though. Enter: Books about foraging.

Ripe wineberries. They are shiny, red raspberry-like fruit on a stem covered in red hairs.

Now, gathering and eating wild plants based entirely on the photos and descriptions in a book can be a bit intimidating. For some plants, this isn’t a big deal — wineberries, for example, are an invasive edible that’s really easy to pick out. Garlic mustard and wild onions, too. Some plants don’t really have poisonous lookalikes, so the odds of making a dangerous mistake are pretty slim. Others, not so much.

All of this is to say that books about foraging aren’t all bad. At least, they weren’t.

Here’s where shit gets weird.

Here Come the Robots

People looking to make a quick buck have turned to artificial intelligence and Amazon’s publishing platform to pump out a lot of barely-concealed drivel. A lot of this is in the form of children’s books, I guess because they seem easier to make than a full-length novel. This is far from harmless, because children’s books play a role in the development of literacy and empathy that you don’t really want to hand off to a computer.

This attempt to cash out isn’t limited to children’s books, either. Amazon and other online book sellers have become the proud purveyors of foraging books written by AI. This isn’t really a new phenomenon, but, on the off chance any of you out there’re in the market for foraging guides, I figured I’d give you a heads up.

To be fair, a lot of these are simply useless and the worst they’ll do is waste your money. The books in this category claim to be foraging guides, but end up being about why foraging is good, listicles on the benefits of eating more fruits and vegetables, and recipe ideas. Pretty harmless overall.

An underside view of the gills of a cream-colored mushroom.

On the other hand, there are books offering actual descriptions of “edible” plants and mushrooms(!). Some of them even list “taste” as an identifying feature of plants and fungi, which could encourage inexperienced foragers to taste things they haven’t positively identified. Since many extremely poisonous mushrooms are visually similar to harmless ones, this could get someone killed. Hell, plenty of people already mistake poisonous mushrooms for edible ones even without books encouraging them to taste them.

Spotting Foraging Fakes

It’s not always easy to pick out which books are written by actual human people, and which aren’t. There are a couple of things that you can look for:

Publishing dates. Books written before the rise of AI generated content are a safer bet here.
The author’s web presence. Even if they have a photo, that doesn’t necessarily mean that they’re a person. The photo could be stolen (just see any of the fake identities on Scamfish), or made up by a different AI. Look for a blog. A Facebook page. A TikTok. An Instagram. Something to indicate an existence beyond the cover of a dodgy book.
As this article from 404 Media states, “‘Edwin J. Smith’”’ is the author listed on two books[,] but doesn’t have any other books, or an online presence otherwise. The only Edwin J. Smith I could find was a Professor Emeritus of medicine at Indiana University from a staff list that’s more than a decade old.”
The author’s credentials. They should be actual, and not completely made up. Beware of author bios that offer vague, unrelated information.
A sample of the prose. A lot of bots pull from very varied sources, so you’ll get bits that sounds like they’re cut from a recipe blog, a florist’s website, an actual foraging manual, and so forth. These are also likely to be thrown together without much thought, because no actual humans looked at it to make sure it’d make any damn sense at all.
The editing. Bad, AI generated foraging guides often have mistakes that any human editor (or writer, for that matter) would pick up on right away.
A bad score from an AI-detection tool, like Scribbr or GPTZero. Get a sample of the text, paste it in a detection tool, and see what it says. While you’re at it, paste the author’s bio in there, too.

Again, if you’re able to, connect with an experienced foraging expert before going out in the field on your own. Your local university may be able to help you. You might even be able to find a group of foraging enthusiasts on sites like Meetup. Even if you can’t go out with a foraging expert, they may be able to recommend actual, useful guides, videos, and other resources for you.

Plants and Herbs

Rosehip Folklore & Magical Properties

October 25, 2023October 24, 2023 J.2 Comments

Roses (t least in their wild form) are fruit-bearing plants. These fruits, called rosehips or rose haws, are bright red, berrylike fruits that serve as a source of food for wildlife and people alike through the autumn and winter months. They’re high in vitamin C, and are frequently used in everything from supplements, to teas, to jellies, to skincare products.

They’re best harvested right after the first frost, when the fruits are bright red and slightly soft. That’s actually what prompted me to write this post — see, our first frost date is supposed to be in the middle of October. As of this writing, next weekend is supposed to be in the 80s. According to the National Weather Service, we’re not actually going to get frosty temperatures until the middle of freaking November. I could harvest the fruits anyhow and mimic the action of a frost by popping them in the freezer for a few hours, but still. 80 degrees.

Some bright red, round rosehips on the plant.

(Side note, my Handsome Assistant and I were planning on taking a very off-season vacation on the beach. We weren’t planning on trying to swim or anything, but we decided to cancel anyway since it’d likely be too chilly to do much but hole up. Go figure!)

Rosehip Magical Uses and Folklore

Medicinally, rosehips are used for anything that benefits from more vitamin C. They’re boiled into syrup and given for colds, and used in tea over winter (when fresh fruit is in short supply). The fruit is also a mild diuretic that can help with certain urinary disorders, while the seeds, when boiled, may be helpful for symptoms of gout.

The fruit portion of a rosehip forms a kind of capsule around the seeds. These seeds are covered in irritating hairs, which is why it’s important to clean rosehips before using them. These hairs are so irritating, in fact, that they can be used to make itching powder!

Not all roses will form hips. Flat blooms, as opposed to cup or globular blooms, generally have the easiest time doing so. The reason for this is simple: cup and globular blooms are bred for show, and have masses of petals that cover their stamens and pistils. Since pollination is necessary for fruit production, bees need to be able to get in there to pollinate. This is easy for them with flat blooms, and next to impossible with more complex shapes. Deadheaded roses also won’t produce hips, since the portion that would become the hip gets cut off in the process.

Rosehips are useful for all of the same things that roses are. They shine in love and beauty magic (due, in part, to their vitamin C content). Used in ritual baths or to infuse oils, they can have a brightening effect on the skin.

Some more rosehips. These are still very green and not yet ripe.

Rosehips are also used in spells for good luck and prosperity.

To banish nightmares, place some rosehips under your pillow. You might want to use dried hips for this, since fresh ones could end up leaving you with a sticky, squishy, unpleasant surprise in the morning!

Since rosehips house rose seeds, they’re a good general addition to spells to increase anything. All seeds have immense potential and are used in magic for growth, so you can include rosehips in any spell to increase love (including self-love), money, luck, you name it.

Using Rosehips

To use fresh rosehips, wash them well, slice them open, and remove the seeds and hairs with a spoon. You can then dry them, make them into jelly, or eat them fresh. Dried hips from the store are good to go as they are.

Add fresh or dried hips to magical teas or other recipes. They have a tart flavor that pairs well with lots of drinks and dishes. Stir with your dominant hand as you cook, and intentionally infuse the mixture with the energy that you want to attract or increase.

To keep nightmares at bay, include dried hips in a dream pillow. Lavender, lemon balm, and rosemary also work very well here.

Dried rosehips (and rose seeds) are great additions to spell jars. As I mentioned above, they bring extra energy to increase whatever it is you’re looking to grow or attract.

On the other hand, the irritating hairs around rose seeds are good for protection or banishing spells. Add them to powders to keep unwanted people or spirits at bay. Sprinkle them under your doormat and instruct them to annoy anything and anyone who shouldn’t be at your door.

Rosehips are as useful as they are beautiful. If you have garden space, I highly recommend planting some wild type roses to help feed birds and other animals (and provide you with lots of powerful magical ingredients). If you don’t, keep your eyes peeled when you’re out and about — you may just find some wild roses with plenty of hips to share.

Environment · life · Neodruidry · Plants and Herbs

Persimmon Foraging Quest

November 4, 2022October 30, 2022 J.Leave a comment

Hello! If you’ve been reading here for a while now, you may have come across the Persimmon Quest.

This is an annual quest my partner and I go on every autumn. We call around or visit grocery stores in order to find out who actually has persimmons (preferably the astringent kind, but non-astringent will also do). Then, we purchase and eat massive quantities of persimmons.

The first time I had one was when I still lived in California. It was a Fuyu persimmon (Diospyros kaki), crunchy and sweet, and I was sold. When I had my first perfectly ripe Hachiya, like a water balloon filled with sweet, flavorful jelly, I was smitten. When I realized that one of the trees planted here by one of the former occupants was probably a persimmon, I was ecstatic.

A Druidry group I belong to recently offered a small foraging expedition. One of our members is a biologist, and he’s kind and generous enough with his time to lead seasonal foraging walks. Last spring, we hunted for ramps. Now that it’s persimmon season, we went to track down some trees.

And oh, did we ever.

Three bags of soft, bright orange American persimmons, along with a sprig of coralberry and some dried mountain mint.

Several of them were already bare, picked over by wildlife and wind. Some were still laden with fruit that fell at the slightest touch. We picked only the ripest, squishiest ones, leaving the rest to soften in the sun and feed other things.

My partner and I came away with several pounds, which I cleaned and froze for future use. They’re very different from Japanese persimmons — we snacked on a few as we foraged, and it was striking just how much the flavor seemed to vary from tree to tree. American persimmons (Diospyros virginiana) are most similar to Hachiya-type Japanese persimmons, in that they’re very astringent before they’re ripe. When they look like they’re nearly rotten, they’re at their best.

Most of the ones I tasted were almost floral when compared to a Hachiya. Still very sweet and soft (with a slight astringent bite in a few places), but floral like lavender lemonade is floral. The comparatively large seeds got in the way a bit, but I’ve read some interesting recipes for roasting and grinding them to make a coffee substitute. As someone who doesn’t drink coffee, I’m intrigued! If I can get a foraged equivalent for Dandy Blend that isn’t dandelion root, I’ll be excited.

I haven’t yet decided what to do with the persimmons themselves. I might separate the seeds and pulp, then freeze the pulp again in an ice cube tray. I figure, if I want to add them to smoothies, sauces, or desserts, I can just thaw out some cubes of prepared persimmon mush fairly quickly and easily. I could even pop a cube or two in a jar for making persimmon kefir. (One member of the group was considering doing fruit leather but based on my experiences trying to make strawberry leather in the oven, I don’t think I want to tackle that without a dehydrator.)

There was a lot more to see than just persimmons, too. Dogbane (Apocynum cannabinum) with its stringy bark (good for stripping and braiding into twine). Horsenettle (Solanum carolinense) with its bright yellow, tomato-like, deceptively delicious-looking poisonous fruits. Fragrant tufts of mountain mint (Pycnanthemum muticum), gray and brittle with age. The most striking were the coralberries (Symphoricarpos orbiculatus), their tiny, bright magenta fruits standing in vibrant contrast to their bright green leaves.

I found these berries particularly intriguing. As it turns out, they’re a valuable native food plant for birds, grow in shade, can stabilize banks, don’t have any major pest or disease vulnerabilities, and thrive on neglect. I’m still looking for native/non-invasive plants to help feed the yard’s hard clay soil and reverse some of the damage from supporting a lawn, and coralberry fills a very important niche here. From what I have read, coralberries aren’t of much value as food for humans. That’s okay, though. Not everything in the yard has to — or should — be for me to eat.

Plus they are so pretty.

A coralberry plant stem. Bright pink berries and green leaves catch the sunlight.

Another view of a coralberry plant stem, featuring a cluster of very bright pink berries.

I’m considering growing some mountain mint, too. Like other mints, they can take over a yard. Since they’re a native plant, I think it’ll be easier to keep them at a reasonable level than, say, the old peppermint that’s slowly eating part of the back yard. Interestingly, it’s closer to bee balm (monarda) than it is to peppermint, and there’s a faint bee balm-ness to its scent that gives that away. Mountain mint also attracts an incredible variety of native pollinators and predatory wasps, and is both edible and medicinal. Medicinally, it’s treated almost as a panacea — it’s considered a digestive, carminative, emmenagogue, expectorant, and more, though I haven’t thoroughly researched the active constituents myself yet. If it can serve as a home-grown, native substitute for peppermint tea, I’ll be all for it. The flavor does lead me to think that it’d be great for seasoning poultry or wild game, and I’m eager to try.

That’s what I love about foraging trips. Not only do I come away with tasty food, but I also get a better idea of ways to try to heal the land I’m now responsible for. Seeing a wide variety of native plants shows me what this patch of grass could be and tells me how I can help it get there. I’m excited!

Environment · life · Plants and Herbs

Foraging for Flowers and Ramps

April 25, 2022April 23, 2022 J.Leave a comment

The more I think about it, the less sure I am that alien invaders would be able to set up shop here for an appreciable amount of time. They’d probably get eaten. (Even the really weird-looking ones. Especially the weird-looking ones. Maybe in an etouffee, like crawfish.)

I like to consider myself an invasivore. If it’s here, causing harm, and tasty, I will find a way to eat it. This is why I was very happy to learn how to identify garlic mustard on a recent foraging walk with some friends. (A lot of invasives are valuable as medicine or food — they wouldn’t’ve been brought here if someone didn’t think they were useful for something.)

Of course, not all tasty things are invasive, which is why it’s important to be conscientious. In general, it’s best to take as little of a plant as you can, and avoid taking the roots unless absolutely necessary. One of the nice things about eating invasive plants is that you don’t need to be particularly careful about damaging their population, but this isn’t true for native species. Like ramps, for example.

A cluster of wild leeks at the base of a tree.

Ramps are wild leeks, and sadly trendy in the culinary world. In some areas, they’re delicacies that have been harvested to endangerment. They’re a spring vegetable very similar to a leek you’d get from the grocery store, which means they’ve got an onion-like bulb topped by flat leaves. The whole plant is edible, but it’s not uncommon for a nice patch of ramps (which can take years just for the seeds to germinate, then another seven years for the plants to mature) to get harvested to oblivion for the bulbs.

Fortunately, since the leaves are also delicious, this isn’t necessary. You can enjoy ramps and still leave the live plants behind. All it takes is harvesting one leaf and moving on, rather than digging up the entire plant. (I’m planning to chiffonade the leaves for potato soup. I’ve got some new potatoes from the farmers’ market, creamline milk, and a whole bunch of home made vegetable broth!)

A cone-shaped inflorescence of bear corn.

One of the neatest things I saw recently wasn’t something I was looking for — in fact, I’d never encountered it in my life, and had no idea it existed. Conopholis americana, also called cancer root, bear corn, or bumeh, is a profoundly odd-looking parasitic plant that lives near oak and beech trees. At first resembling an upright corn cob or the cap of a fungus, closer inspection revealed cream-colored flowers.

Despite the name cancer root, it doesn’t appear to actually fight cancer. However, it does have some pretty powerful astringents that help with wound clotting. This plant was also used to help induce and progress labor (which gave rise to another, more offensive name that has largely fallen into disuse). It’s also a diuretic and laxative, which is what gave it the name “bear corn.” After months of hibernation, bears need to “unplug,” as it were. They’re attracted to the springtime blooms of bear corn, and eating it seems to help get things moving.
This idea is plausible enough, though I have chosen not to test it myself.

We also spotted a black squirrel, though nearly missed it. He skittered quickly along a fallen tree, and was far out of sight by the time I managed to try to get a picture. Still, even without photo evidence, it was pretty neat to spot two very rare things. (Melanistic squirrels only occur in about 1 out of every 10,000 eastern gray squirrels!)

Here ’til the day breaks and night falls,
J.