Tea Is Self-Care

with a little extra boost from some of my favorite moments in nature

It’s an ancient formula.

twigs + leaves + blossoms
x
steaming hot water
÷
small slow sips
=
oh wow that’s better!

Herbal teas were never something that I gave a lot of dedicated attention to even after we had moved onto the homestead and started farming and gardening. They were always kind of a sidebar, kind of the thing I did if I had time left over after the other things I had to do.

But over the seasons, I began to realize just how many little teas were constantly growing all around me, all the time. And the more I gathered, and sun-dried, and stored away in airtight containers, the more enamored I became. Because that’s how nature is, of course. First she hooks you, then she draws you in!

Raspberry, bergamot, anise hyssop, mint, thyme, spicebush, northern wild raisin, wild rose, apple blossom, calendula, chamomile, lavender. Each with its own signature flavor profile - and unique blend of micro-nutrients!

There’s a reason why early settlers put away wild sorrel tea along with all the fruits and veggies they could preserve. It’s packed with vitamin C, and by the end of a long Maine winter, that was a much-needed boost! Of course, we have a lot more access to a well-balanced diet year-round today. But still, I realized that something as simple as adding herbal teas into daily life is probably giving our bodies more benefits than we even realize.

There’s also something really special about harvesting your own herbal teas, a connection formed as you hand-pick leaves and blossoms, working alongside the bees and the butterflies, while the sun warms your skin and the birds sing overhead. All of that tranquil, grounded, essential nature connection becomes part of the story of your herbs as they dry, interwoven with color and flavor and stored in memory.

I realize that may all sound a little sentimental, and not very scientific. But when the day comes that you curl up in some comfy spot and brew that first cup from last summer’s harvest, and the first swirling wisps of steam lazily drift across your unwinding inhale - the sunshine, the warmth, the birds and the bees and the butterflies, will flood your senses and arrange themselves into the gentle smile of a deeply contented heart.

And in that moment, you’ll realize that science is poetry, after all.

Chamomile is perhaps the most familiar and gentle of herbal teas, sleepy, relaxing, warmly golden and sweet like honey. Did you know that there are actually a number of wild variations of chamomile that you can forage, as well?

This particular variety, called Pineappleweed, was growing wild in our gravel driveway. It has a slightly more citrusy flavor profile than the traditional variety. I let it spread wherever it wants to, because how can you ever have too much chamomile?

Fun fact, foraging wild chamomile is extremely safe because it only has one toxic lookalike - and that one is called Stinking Chamomile for a reason! So if it looks like chamomile, and it doesn’t smell like skunk, you can make tea out of it :)

wild roses

It seems impossible that I should be able to breathe in summer sunshine in the middle of winter, but one deep breath of rose petals and I am instantly immersed in that warm glow of sun and sand beside a gently wave-traced shore.

Beach Roses here in Maine are actually an invasive species, Rosa rugosa, brought in with settlers. They now form the most spectacular hedges along the edge of sandy beaches, filling the summer air completely with the scent of roses, and sheltering all the brightest warblers within the fortress of their thorny branches. They are probably the most delightful invaders I have ever encountered.

Rose petals have such a uniquely spectacular way of holding summer sunshine, a really singular intricacy of glow and sparkle and depth that I never get tired of studying from all the angles. And do you know, each blossom only lasts a single day? I like to collect petals in the evening, knowing they’ve completed all of their important works of pollination and beauty, and are now preparing to retire to the waiting soil, anyway. Maybe that’s why rose petals hold the essence of summer so strongly, having burned so brightly in such a short spark of a moment.

It’s almost too cold here to grow lavender. We’re right on edge.

But so far, our lavender has emerged victorious from every winter’s grasp!

Lavender blossoms are an absolute pollinator magnet, filled with visitors in constant motion from sunrise to sunset. How is it possible that the motivating force behind such tireless activity can be so deeply relaxing? I brush the bees aside to run my fingers through the branches, filling the air with lavender fragrance, filling my lungs with a smiling sense of peace. Shoo, shoo, I’m relaxing here!

At the end of the day, when the bees and the butterflies have departed to rest from their labors, I snip the flower spikes and lay them out to dry. Tiny lavender pods will keep all winter long in an airtight container, just waiting for a splash of steaming water to reinvigorate them - and relax you.

It turns out, it’s all in a cup of tea. One cup, one short moment - and a world of nature connection at the tip of your kettle.

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