Bones' Apothecary: Oleander

So we moved into this new house a couple months ago, and there are several gigantic oleander plants out back. They're big enough and thick enough to function as a very tall privacy hedge between my back yard and the rest of the world. They have very pink flowers.

Not having had oleanders to care for before, I looked them up.
Turns out they're completely poisonous, so obviously people consume them for medicinal purposes.

I gotta say, that seems less than smart to me.

(I recently had an idea for a story about what would happen if all the warning labels were removed from quasi-dangerous products. Of course, the people behind the removal would probably be some secret eugenicist society. I'm taking bets on how much of our population would be wiped out in short order.)

Anyway, I harvested as many of the dried flowers as I could reach and ended up with two full gallon-sized jars of the things. It looks like the plants are just beginning to grow seed pods (very bean-like in appearance), so I should have a harvest of those, soon, too. For now, I just have the dried flowers. They dry right on the stem, by the way, and if I catch them before they fall and get smooshed by running dogs and kid(s), they're quite pretty.

A picture I took of some of the blossoms still on the bush.

The dried and harvested flowers.

I've listed the dried flowers in my etsy shop, under the Apothecary section.

What else am I going to do with all these flowers?

I think they'd be useful for spellwork or potpourri or, I'm sure, any number of flower-crafty projects.

While researching oleander online, I came across one story in particular. This tale seemed to pop up all over the place, whether I was looking for the plant's mythology or taxonomy. The story goes, in Greek myth a hero named Leander was in love with a maiden (why is it always a maiden?) who was imprisoned (by her father, of course) on top of an island mountain. Every night, Leander would swim across the treacherous seas to visit the girl. One night, a storm more terrible than usual raged while Leander was swimming, and (because ancient Greeks loved tragedy), Leander drowned. The following morning, the distraught girl ran up and down the beach looking for her lover, crying "O, Leander!" over and over. When she found his body, she saw that he had been clutching a flower. She took this flower from his corpse as a symbol of his profound love for her. The flower is now known as Oleander (please tell me you saw that coming).

Okay, so maybe this really is a Greek myth, but that really seems unlikely to me. I mean, it seems unlikely that it's a Greek myth. I'd more easily believe that it's a Victorian England myth masquerading as a Greek myth.

Nevertheless, the oleander flower is thought (these days) to have some potency in spellwork dealing with matters of romantic love.

Personally, I've never tried such work, so I can't give any awesome anecdotes on that.

Some other names for Oleander: nerium oleander, Dogbane, Rose Bay, Desert Rose, Ceylon Tree, Adelfa.

Cunningham, in his Encyclopedia of Magical Herbs, associates oleander with femininity, the planet Saturn, the element Earth, and with love.

None of my other herb books mention oleander. None!
Maybe that's because most of my herb books are about herbal medicine, and oleander is a poison.
Don't consume any part of the oleander plant, mm'kay? 


Want some more info? Here's some:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nerium
http://www.auntyflo.com/flower-dictionary/oleander
http://marshaamoore.blogspot.com/2011/04/magic-and-danger-of-oleander.html
http://oleander.org/

Bones' Apothecary: Barrel Cactus

First, you should know that "barrel cactus" isn't a single species of plant. It's a common name that includes two genera of cacti: ferocactus  and echinocactus.
Second, they're somewhat cute, in a ugly-sneaky-menacing way. Not dissimilar to small, ferocious, ineffective, squishy-faced dogs. You know the ones I'm talking about.

From here.

An example of a echinocactus. From here.

And a ferocactus. From here.

I know you see what I mean. 

So anyway, these guys all have some basic shared traits that make them easy to identify as barrel cacti. For example, they are cacti with a roughly barrel-like shape. Also, they are ribbed, spiny, and they produce flowers and fruit. They can branch, but often they're just a single column sticking almost-straight up, not unlike a giant penis of death.

From here.

This one is starting to bud.
I love how ridiculous they look with their flower heads.
From here.

They do tend to lean a bit to the southwest, as they grow toward the sun. This can be a problem as they get taller. See all that ribbing they have? During the rainy season, they fill up with water and the ribs flatten out a bit. Gives them plenty of room to store water for the dry season (which is most of the year, in the Sonoran Desert). It also makes them top-heavy when they're full of water. Being top-heavy and leaning a bit means that these cacti don't usually get very tall - after a certain height, they fall over. Then they die.

Like this. See how it's starting to turn gray, and the ribs are deep?
It's dying, and it isn't storing water anymore.
From here.

Wikipedia says barrel cacti are dangerous to people. I disagree; barrel cacti don't move around much (not like those damned jumping chollas - more on those in a later post), and they're not very sneaky (once they're past a certain size they're pretty obvious, and below that size... well, don't walk barefoot in the desert and you'll be fine). The problem, according to the wiki page, is that "a puncture to human skin from one of the spines is considered a 'dirty wound'. If the puncture is deep enough to draw blood, antibiotics may be needed; and could take up to several months for the wound to heal properly."

That's quite a stretch from the reference the wiki author cites for that "information." The cited reference, the Arizona-Sonoran Desert Museum website (which is a great resource), does say, "with all deep puncture wounds tetanus infection is a remote but real possibility." This is not at all the same as calling cactus spine punctures "dirty wounds" that could take "several months" to heal. Cactus spines are, in and of themselves, neither poisonous nor venomous, mkay? In my personal experience, brushing up against a cactus spine accidentally gives you the cactus-equivalent of a splinter. Obnoxious, yes. Deep puncture wound, no. Now, if you somehow manage to jam one of those babies into your flesh a few inches, yeah, that could cause problems. But the problems wouldn't be because the thing in your flesh is a cactus spine; you would have problems because there's a thing in your flesh. If you had a monster splinter in your flesh, you might have to consider a tetanus booster, too, no matter how benign the tree was before you splintered it.

Moving on to other myths...

No, you should not drink water from the inside of a barrel cactus if you're thirsty and want to play cowboy. It is not a "traveler's friend," despite that unfortunate nickname. The water inside a barrel cactus is highly alkaline, and causes diarrhea and headaches - more or less of each depending on the species. For example, fishhook barrel cactus (ferocactus wislizenii) juice is more likely to cause diarrhea and joint pain, while Coville barrel cactus (ferocactus covillei) juice causes headaches. If you're really afraid you might die of thirst, you still shouldn't do it. Diarrhea will further dehydrate you, and you will die. Instead, try the prickly pear cactus for liquid sustenance; it's far more friendly to our digestive tracts and neural sensitivities, and if you're seeing barrel cacti, there'll probably be some prickly pears nearby. Like this:

That odd looking cactus in the top of the picture is a prickly pear.
The little red fruits are actually quite tasty when cooked.
Prickly pear jelly is The Awesome.
Anyway, back to barrel cacti...
From here.

That is not to say that no part of the barrel cactus can comfortably be consumed; the buds and flowers can be cooked (parboiled; this reduces their natural bitterness) and eaten, or sun-dried for later consumption. The buds or flowers are available for harvest for a few months each year, typically starting in late spring or early summer. The easiest way to harvest the buds or flowers is with a stick or two - you can pluck those little suckers right off there with a couple sticks. The seeds can be ground up like flour and mixed with water if gruel's your thing. Not sure how that would taste, but it's edible.

If you really wanna get gutsy - and careful - you can cut that cactus open and use it for a container. Their structural integrity is quite good. You'll just have to dig out the interior.

There aren't a lot of medicinal uses for a barrel cactus, but there's a possibility it could help with pain. Remove the spines, roast a slice of the body, wrap the slice in a cloth, then press it to a sore area. Again, do not consume the body of a barrel cactus. It will hurt you.

I've found zero references to barrel cacti in a spiritual context, so I'll just share a bit about what I think of them. Your mileage may very.
This is a plant whose most common cause of death is it's own weight, as it stores more water than it can hold at its angle. It's almost a perfect metaphor for hoarding. It could be a reminder that we can't hold on to everything; we can't save All The Things. Or maybe the barrel cactus could be seen as a reminder to let go of things that are weighing you down and keeping you from growing. That which you think is saving you (storing all that water for the dry season) might just be what kills you. As the Buddhists say: let it go.


References are linked as they are used, except this one because it's a real book:
"Indian Uses of Desert Plants" by James W. Cornett, published in 2011 by Nature Trails Press.

bones' apothecary: agave

I have an agave in my front yard. You'd think a plant in a category called "succulent" would be... I don't know, nicer.

It could double as a guard, if it were just a little closer to the gate. Back before I knew what this cursed plant was (not so long ago), I referred to it as "that stabby plant out front." It's kind of a jerk, with its stabbiness. The sharp points are actually darker than the rest of the plant, so if you're not looking right at them (and are unfamiliar with the plant, as I was), it'll sneak-shank you as you walk by.

Yeah, me and this plant did not start out as friends. And honestly, "friends" is too nice a word for our current working relationship, which mostly involves me leaving That Stabby Plant alone.

Recently (tonight) I learned that pretty much that whole plant is edible. Also, when roasted, the inside of those pulpy leaves (aka, your shank-wielders) tastes like molasses.

You hear that Stabby? I could totally eat you. And revenge shall be sweet. 

Fortunately for Stabby, I don't own this property, and me removing a 7-foot agave that's probably ancient would not go over well with my landlord. So Stabby and I won't be parting ways any time soon.

Unless. Unless Stabby decides to flower.
I've learned all sorts of things about agaves tonight. For instance: most species only flower once in their lifetimes. Once they've flowered, they die; in other words, agaves are semelparous. A few (not the ones my region of the world) can get away with flowering twice before they're done. One gardening blogger recommended being "mean" to your agave plant - not encouraging them to reproduce, by not making their environment ideal. Withhold the pampering - the extra rations of water, the especially fertile soil - and your lovely agave could last decades! I might start fertilizing mine.

Not only out of spite though. No really! These plants are incredibly useful!

The seeds can be ground into flour.
The blossoms can be eaten, though they're bitter if not boiled first.
The flower stalks can be roasted and eaten, or juiced to make pulque - the main ingredient in tequila. I'm pretty sure that means agaves are medicinal.
The leaves can be roasted and eaten (you'll want to remove the husk after roasting, and before consuming).
The fibers from the stalks and leaves can be used in all sorts of things, if you're crafty like that. Weaving, brushes, et cetera.

It takes For Ever for one of these plants to bloom, though. Their common name is "century plant," because it feels  like it takes them a century to bloom, especially if you're waiting for it. Typically they'll bloom much sooner, within 20 years or so. And of course there's variation on that timeline by species. It appears - from my brief internet search - that smaller agaves tend to bloom sooner than larger ones. (Which makes sense - the larger plants spend more energy on somatic development as opposed to reproductive development.)

(Incidentally, the gardener I mentioned above refers specifically to the agave americana variety, which is the most common in the Southwest and probably what I have in my yard. Alternatively, mine might be an agave durangensis, which also appears similar to mine in the web pictures. It's hard to say though. I'm not finding any definitive information to discern the two, or any great pictures. All I can be certain of is that mine is not the striped variety of a. americana.)

 

one version of a. americana

a. durangensis

I've found very little to support any medicinal uses of agave, other than in the production of tequila (which really should not be ignored). There's some mention of agave sap as a disinfectant, but absolutely zero reason to suspect that's true; this is not a reference to the disinfectant properties of tequila, but a claim that the unprocessed sap has disinfectant properties. At best, I would venture that the sugar-like nature of the sap might  have similar preservative properties to other sugars.

As a representative in magical uses, I personally would consider agave an excellent guardian. The rosettes (the radially-oriented cluster of leaves) are fiercely protective of the plant, as are the stalks.  In fact, if you don't handle the dried stalks properly they'll get ya. The plant as a whole makes me think of fire: abundant in it's usefulness, but inherently dangerous and requiring mindful handling.

If you decide to work with the dried stalks, wear gloves. The fibers of the stalks are quite pokey, and they are so fine that it's nearly impossible to see them once they've embedded themselves in your flesh. They make wicked, hair-like splinters. There's one under my fingernail right now that's still working it's way out. I can tell it's still there, because the dried blood around it is still there. Also, it hurts. So wear gloves, and sand that thing down with a very fine grit sand paper. That'll make it better, but it's probably next to impossible to get all the fibers smoothed out, so I also recommend giving your agave stalk some sort of wrap where you plan to grasp it. I have both a wand and a staff made from agave stalks (wild harvested, not from Stabby). They came to me through my ten year old son, who collected them and brought them home as gifts. I used rabbit fur on my staff, but I don't hold it a lot. Leather would probably be better for something you're going to use often. Or any fabric thick enough to tame stray fibers and keep them out of your skin.

This staff is ridiculously tall, and I'll probably end up shortening it a bit. If I do, I'll take some off the top. I really like how the bottom 'bulbs' out and makes a solid base for the whole thing. It's good for grounding.

Notes

By the way, yuccas are part of the agave family, too, but they're a different genus. I'll talk about yuccas separately, and later.


Also, I'm in the market for a good southwest herbalism book. Comment with leads if you have any please!



References

http://www.gardeninggonewild.com/?p=7002 Gardening Gone Wild (blog) by Debra Lee Baldwin, "Uh-oh. My agave's blooming." Appears to have been posted in 2009, but I can't actually find a date for that post (I'm basing my estimate on the dates of the comments).

http://www.succulentguide.com/cactus/?genus=Agave Succulent Guide: Genus Agave. Lots of pictures, but no hard data.

http://www.succulent-plant.com/families/agavaceae.html The Agave Page. Somewhat better pictures and a little more information than the Succulent Guide.

Book: Indian Uses of Desert Plants, by James W. Cornett. 2011. Nature Trails Press. It's more 'glorified pamphlet' than book, but it's a handy little thing to have. It can be found here.



For more information

http://www.allaboutagave.com/ How to make agave nectar (a nice sugar substitute); this is not a step-by-step guide, just an overall explanation.

http://www.ars-grin.gov/cgi-bin/npgs/html/taxon.pl?1690 The US Department of Agriculture weighs in with the taxonomy of agave americana.

http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pubmed/10025868 Apparently agave leaves contain potential skin irritants in their pulp.

bones' apothecary: arnica

Names that I know of: arnica, arnica montana, leopard's bane, mountain tobacco

I've been using arnica to help with the nerve pain I get in my right wrist. The cause of the pain is similar to  carpal tunnel, combined with arthritis. A Wise Woman I am friends with recommended arnica - one teaspoon in a mug of hot water, like tea, no more than once a day - and it has been working remarkably well. So of course I had to research it a bit.

If you look up arnica on google, you'll come across a lot of warnings about taking it internally, typically with a caveat that it's ok to take the "homeopathic" versions of the plant, which "have no detectable amount of the plant in them and are generally considered safe for internal use when taken according to the directions on the label."

Well, if there's no detectable amount of the herb, then what you're taking is essentially a placebo. At least that's how I figure it. ...I'm not even going to get into placebos right here and now.

So anyway, the available online resources say not to take it internally. The adverse effects that one should expect, if one were to take arnica internally, are harder to find than the warnings. A common refrain goes something like this: "Since arnica is an unproven treatment, there is no clear advice on how to use it. Given its risks, talk to a doctor or pharmacist before taking arnica orally." That is not terribly helpful. Somewhere - I can't find it now, sorry - there was an article which mentioned gastrointestinal distress as a side effect of arnica; I imagine that's part of the toxicity to be wary of, but I have nothing to verify that.

So anyway, here's what I do: I put one dried flower head (which is about a teaspoon's worth) into a tea infuser, and put that in a mug of hot water (just below boiling temperature) and let it steep for a few minutes. Then I take the infuser out, let the water cool a few more minutes, and chug the whole thing.

It doesn't have much of a flavor. Just tastes like someone put a daisy in my water, which isn't a bad flavor, but it isn't good either. I don't think I'd bother trying to make this taste good. It's easier to just drink it quickly.

It might be better to go the recommended route and use arnica externally, directly on the site of injury. Here's a couple salve recipes I found for that sort of thing:

1. http://shalommama.com/arnica

2. http://frugallysustainable.com/2013/06/how-to-make-a-arnica-salve-the-perfect-herbal-sore-muscle-rub/


Please don't construe anything I say here as medical advice. I'm totally unqualified for that sort of work. 

image is from "A Modern Herbal"

UPDATE (added 15 May 2014) - through trial and error, I've discovered that for myself and a few of my bravest friends, arnica does not help for pain related to muscle damage, but does help for pain related to nerve damage.

Resources:

A Modern Herbal website (information is from the early 1900s) http://www.botanical.com/botanical/mgmh/a/arnic058.html

Mountain Rose Herb Co. (a supplier) http://www.mountainroseherbs.com/products/arnica-flowers/profile

PubMed articles (actual scientific studies) http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pubmed/20412090

~


Okay, I just couldn't leave it alone. So here ya go - the homeopathy controversy, in my opinion.

I found an article (a proponent of homeopathy) that summarized their view of the controversy this way: 

• "Homeopathic medicines are diluted to such a degree that skeptics claim the small doses are merely placebos. They argue that, in theory, it is impossible for them to have any therapeutic effect because it cannot be explained how they work. Experienced homeopathic practitioners and patients make the counter-claim that they actually work in practice."

I'm going to ignore the obvious bias, since the author clearly intended to be persuasive, and go straight explaining why I think his "argument" is crap, and why it's analogous to creationists who say evolution is "just a theory." 

The most important bit here is that placebos work in practice. They also work in theory. 

While I just stumbled on this argument this morning, in my search for information on arnica, I can say with complete confidence that no scientist worth their salt would say it's impossible for something to work simply because we don't understand it. Science is, in fact, the pursuit of understanding the things we cannot explain. Placebos are one of those things that we know work (at least sometimes, and at least for some people), but we have lots of competing theories on why they work. Kinda like how we know evolution works, but we're still figuring out all the different mechanisms and applications. 

I would argue - with the article cited above - that it is impossible for the herb in any given homeopathic medication to work, because there is no detectable amount of the herb in the medication! So sure, the medication might work, but it's not the herb doing it. It's something else. The solution perhaps? The placebo effect? Both? No idea. But it's not the herb, because the herb isn't there. 

So, Larry Malerba, D.O., I think you're full of poo. And I think that you - and anyone who spouts this poo - is doing actual herbalists and their seekers a serious disservice. 

And I'm done here.