I also wanted to somehow convey how those footprints 👣 in the dark loam mirrored her timeless, beautiful spirit even though she was in her late eighties!!
My Ukrainian mother-in- law was from a region near the polish border, and one of her Grandmothers was polish. She emigrated to Canada where she farmed with her husband before moving to the small town I knew her in. The town was made up largely of Ukrainian immigrants. CHAMOMILE grew every where along the yards and back lanes.
Did you know farmers used to intersperse chamomile with the wheat in the field to keep pestilence at bay, and just have generally healthier wheat?
She grew a large, lovely garden. She was surprisingly vital, and I loved to notice the imprint of her bare feet in the black loam as she cared for her plants.
Hi Kathryn, I do know a large number of Ukrainians immigrated to Canada, but did not know they would plant chamomile in their wheat fields! So fascinating! Back in the day, monoculture agriculture was unheard of. Wild plants grew right alongside cultivated plants, so that makes perfect sense. It's so sad that this wisdom has been largely forgotten. Thank you for sharing! And there is always something about a grandmother in the garden, pure magic. It's like the garden becomes her.
Oh, Val, how insightful and lovely is this! I always felt close to my maternal grandmother who lived with us and reared me until her death when I was 12. She was such a healing, humorous energy. I wish I knew who her ancestors were, but my mother didn't tell me even if she knew. Your musings have invoked in me a nostalgia for those Polish women from whom I descended and could only sense (if I try) but never meet. Thank you once again for your beautiful thoughts so eloquently expressed. May blessings and a harmonious birth experience ensue for you and your child!
Thank goodness for the grandmothers! Polish grandmothers in particular are always a bit of a mystery I think. They had both their practical no nonsense way about them, but also a mystical side they only let out behind closed doors, working their own healing practices. It seems appropriate in this sense sometimes that we may not know them as well as we'd like. Luckily we have their plants and stories to let us peek into their world.
Sometimes articles find you, not the other way around. My grandmother was killed by a speeding driver 2 years ago this week. I have not acknowledged my grief beyond the crying spells and painful anger. These past two weeks I’ve been shown again and again how much I need to speak to it. Thank you for writing this, and being a part of that.
OMG! our grandmothers were cut from the same cloth. My paternal grandmother came to live with us went I was in the 7th grade, after her 3rd husband died. She also said very little , a very negative person. When I was in high school she pulled me aside in the kitchen and said "I show you how make horseradish." She would make a beet horseradish relish for every Easter. I thought oh good a recipe from the Old Country - Poland. I imagined a long gnarly horseradish root and round heavy earthy beets with soil still clinging to them. But she plops down a can of whole beets and a prepared jar of horseradish. I still chuckle when I think of it .
HAH! I love this story! I think it really represents that immigrant experience in some ways. Our grandmothers were stingy, they had to be. Many raising multiple children with little help from an extended community to grow their own food. So hey, canned beets and horseradish will do just fine they figured! Love it.
I also wanted to somehow convey how those footprints 👣 in the dark loam mirrored her timeless, beautiful spirit even though she was in her late eighties!!
So beautiful. I hope to have such a kindred spirit at that age. What more could you ask for?
My Ukrainian mother-in- law was from a region near the polish border, and one of her Grandmothers was polish. She emigrated to Canada where she farmed with her husband before moving to the small town I knew her in. The town was made up largely of Ukrainian immigrants. CHAMOMILE grew every where along the yards and back lanes.
Did you know farmers used to intersperse chamomile with the wheat in the field to keep pestilence at bay, and just have generally healthier wheat?
She grew a large, lovely garden. She was surprisingly vital, and I loved to notice the imprint of her bare feet in the black loam as she cared for her plants.
Thank you for the beautiful article!
Hi Kathryn, I do know a large number of Ukrainians immigrated to Canada, but did not know they would plant chamomile in their wheat fields! So fascinating! Back in the day, monoculture agriculture was unheard of. Wild plants grew right alongside cultivated plants, so that makes perfect sense. It's so sad that this wisdom has been largely forgotten. Thank you for sharing! And there is always something about a grandmother in the garden, pure magic. It's like the garden becomes her.
Now that I think about it, it might have helped with pollination also!
Oh, Val, how insightful and lovely is this! I always felt close to my maternal grandmother who lived with us and reared me until her death when I was 12. She was such a healing, humorous energy. I wish I knew who her ancestors were, but my mother didn't tell me even if she knew. Your musings have invoked in me a nostalgia for those Polish women from whom I descended and could only sense (if I try) but never meet. Thank you once again for your beautiful thoughts so eloquently expressed. May blessings and a harmonious birth experience ensue for you and your child!
Thank goodness for the grandmothers! Polish grandmothers in particular are always a bit of a mystery I think. They had both their practical no nonsense way about them, but also a mystical side they only let out behind closed doors, working their own healing practices. It seems appropriate in this sense sometimes that we may not know them as well as we'd like. Luckily we have their plants and stories to let us peek into their world.
Lovely, thanks for opening my eyes to grandmother medicine - I now can't stop seeing chamomile in this light!
Yes!! Love this, chamomile is such a warm hug in all ways :)
Sometimes articles find you, not the other way around. My grandmother was killed by a speeding driver 2 years ago this week. I have not acknowledged my grief beyond the crying spells and painful anger. These past two weeks I’ve been shown again and again how much I need to speak to it. Thank you for writing this, and being a part of that.
OMG! our grandmothers were cut from the same cloth. My paternal grandmother came to live with us went I was in the 7th grade, after her 3rd husband died. She also said very little , a very negative person. When I was in high school she pulled me aside in the kitchen and said "I show you how make horseradish." She would make a beet horseradish relish for every Easter. I thought oh good a recipe from the Old Country - Poland. I imagined a long gnarly horseradish root and round heavy earthy beets with soil still clinging to them. But she plops down a can of whole beets and a prepared jar of horseradish. I still chuckle when I think of it .
HAH! I love this story! I think it really represents that immigrant experience in some ways. Our grandmothers were stingy, they had to be. Many raising multiple children with little help from an extended community to grow their own food. So hey, canned beets and horseradish will do just fine they figured! Love it.