Painter of purple horizons

a month with heather

Even stories that veer into strange or difficult directions once had an ordinary afternoon when no one imagined how things would unfold.

An afternoon in September 1987 sitting amongst heather under a pale sky on the North York Moors. A young mother with my nine-month-old daughter, pregnant with the next daughter, about to go to my sister’s wedding. Thirty-nine years ago. I haven’t seen her for the last thirty-two of those years.

I have spent September with heather, a herb of spaciousness, soft but resilient, painter of a wide purple horizons held close to earth.

Heather (Calluna vulgaris). also called ling, is a plant of Europe’s moorlands and heathlands, carpeting expanses from Brittany to Wales, North Yorkshire to Scandinavia. She is the sole member of her genus, a botanical singularity flowering

magenta
purple
mauve
lilac
violet
pink

And, if luck is with you, ice white

But its the swathes of purple that take me back to warm autumn sun, the buzz of bees gathering nectar.

She grows on acid soil that drains well, above a layer of peat supported by mineral soil — the land she grows on reflected in her taste — mildly bitter, softly astringent, resinous and mineral. She asks little of the world, flourishes where many plants would fail, yet flowering transforms seemingly barren ground into radiance. Her own quiet resilience mirrors those she is an ally to: those who stoically keep going, whose bodies have accommodated strain or illness for so long that exhaustion has become almost invisible to others. Heather invites the body back to a slower, kinder rhythm, working gently but surely. Dried heather is a lovely ingredient in sleep pillows.

In the body heather is slightly drying, cool to neutral. Her motion is descending — a herb of settling… slowly. She has an affinity with the kidneys — a urinary antiseptic whose inflammation modulation and gentle diuretic action make her helpful for urinary tract infections like cystitis, kidney gravel or where there’s an enlarged prostate. A strong tea brewed for 10-15 minutes and drunk though the day is wonderfully clearing and her ability to gently move what is stuck is also helpful with conditions like gout or oedema.

She is kind to joints. The first time I worked with her herbally was to make a balm with heather, horseradish roots. I collected heather from the hills behind our house in North Wales with my daughter and grandson, steeped the dried flowers in oil left in the sun, mixed the infused oil with comfrey and horseradish oils, then warmed the blend with cacao butter and beeswax, finally adding drops of rosemary and black pepper essential oils. My father-in-law was waiting for a hip replacement and it became his go-to salve, the scent of it his signal for relief. Heather takes the heat out of inflamed joints and is wonderful for rheumatism or arthritis. She does the same for inflamed skin, in lotions, balms and strong infusions. In a bath she will ease aching joints and flaring skin alike.

Heather is rich in folklore. My Nanna would never refuse a sprig of luck white heather in case of turning away good fortune or turning it to ill luck. To find naturally occurring white heather was considered a blessing and it was often included in a bride’s bouquet, worn by soldiers going into battle or tucked it into traveller’s pockets.

Heather honey is dark, aromatic and rich in polyphenols which are antioxidants, aid immunity, and modulate inflammation. Heather ale was being made in Scotland over 4,000 years ago, found in Neolithic remains on the Isle of Rum. The original recipe was apparently lost and immortalised in Robert Louis Stevenson’s ballad, ‘Heather Ale’ and telling of an invading king who wants the recipe, but the last surviving Pict chooses death rather than reveal it. But today heather ale is once again made in Scotland. It was also traditionally popular in Wales and the northern of England, taken in medicinal doses as a restorative.

Beyond herbal or culinary use, heather makes superb thatching, naturally anti-microbial and can also be used in rope-making, weaving floor mats, as an ingredient in wattle-and-daub walls or, in the absence of other fuels, for fires. The roots too are used to carve the handles for ceremonial daggers (dirks) in Scotland.

In the Celtic tree alphabet heather is ‘Úr’ (the Ogham glyph shared with mistletoe) and is associated with the inner self and a gateway between the fertile earth and the otherworld, bringing us back to the solitary places where heather grows. Yet heather also has a communal aspect – the honey and ale for festivals and celebrations, the homes she protects whether as thatch or bedding, as sleep pillow or hung to keep the household safe from storms.

I have been a traveller this month — from mid-Wales to North Wales, Northampton to London, Bristol to Cornwall. She has been a refreshing friend in tea to manage tiredness:

Heather
Linden
Hawthorn
Rose
Oatstraw
Violet

She has whispered: Take space. Rest, lent me resilience, accompanied me to sleep. She’s a herb of my home terrain I grew up in, an ally for both communal days and quiet, soft days, reminding me that however far I wander, the landscape that first held me speaks to me still.

Finding your allies

Each month I meet with a small group of amazing women who are exploring their allies Along the Herbal Path.

We dive deep into an aspect of these companions in the animate world. Sometimes we pause to write, to centre ourselves in quiet meditation. Always we ask questions and make space for one another.

Together with the herbs, we create a little alchemy.

I’d love you to join us. Find out more, including how to join, on the triskelewell page

Heather is considered a safe and gentle herb, though there is limited safety data on using her during pregnancy and care should be taken where there is significant kidney disease or alongside prescription diuretics. Large quantities may also irritate sensitive stomachs due to the presence of tannins.