Oh, to gather blooms of calendula, the yellow orange sunshine medicine, the softness of the petals, the healing scent of those oily bracts, the way this task will wrap you up in her arms, slow everything down, and nurture your whole being.
One of the most simple, one of the most nurturing, one of the most lovely plants to grow and harvest. Every year the scent of Calendula hits me with a wave of comfort, swooning delight, nostalgia and love. I love the yellow, golden, orange flowers that never seem to quit. I love the versatility of this gentle medicine, the healing qualities, the immune support, the easy peasy self seeding propagation. It's like a dear old friend, reminding me why I do what I do, why I love to grow medicine, why I work so hard in the garden. For the simple pleasures, this sunshine magic, this gold in my basket.
Calendula is an anti-microbial, immune stimulating, anti-inflammatory wonder herb. Externally, she will soothe and heal rashes, eczema, dry skin, psoriasis, diaper rash, stings, chicken pox etc. Internally, she can be used to lessen fevers, soothe heartburn, peptic ulcers and sore throat. The bright petals are rich with flavonoids, and so, while most of the medicine comes from the whole flower head, the petals have their own delicate edible goodness that can be made into the most lovely garnishes, and added into soups and salads, or as I have experimented with; fresh pesto, and baking. I use the whole flower heads in most of my balms and salves, as it is such a gentle and effective skin soothing herb. She is perfect for immune boosting tea blends, and can also be soothing for heartburn, peptic ulcers, and sore throat, and even teething babies.
Calendula just doesn’t quit. She’s the life of the party, a magnetic ray of sunshine, beautiful in every way. My favourite herb to harvest, hands down. And even after the rest of the garden has died back, has turned in for the season, has been picked, hung, dried and stored, she’s out there, shining like the summer sun deep into October, before the deep frosts, sharing her medicine for as long as she possibly can, saying, “Come on girl. We’re not done yet.”
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