Wild Folk Apothecary

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Wild Folk Apothecary Handmade apothecary, words, courses, foraging, folklore & wild medicine walks. www.wildfolkapothecary.com
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19/10/2026

Has her medicine has touched you lately? Perhaps it has reached its silvery fingers right down into the depth of your being. Perhaps she calls you but you don’t know how to work with her? Mugwort always has more to teach us.

I’ve written a whole course about Mugwort, her magic, her medicine, and her ability to reconnect humans with their place within natural law. It’s called Mugwort-Moon Matriarch, and it is a twelve chapter immersion. DM me for more info, or see the place where the links reside.

I also go deep into her medicine in my upcoming book, The Wild Becoming, which is available for preorder.

I’ve been watching the crows as they wheel and flurry, playing their games of chattering flight around the chimney pots ...
16/10/2026

I’ve been watching the crows as they wheel and flurry, playing their games of chattering flight around the chimney pots and television aerials.

I once looked up to the skies as I was entering my house, it was a time of great disruption, emotional tumult and upheaval for me. As I looked skyward I saw a crow with wings so tattered and worn they were like ancient lace, I could see sky through the wings. I gasped audibly, I remember it so vividly, it was such a striking sight and such a potent message which I still carry with me. It was a message of freedom and transformation.

There is no question to me that crows hold many mysteries, many messages, and act as guides for souls as they travel from this world to the next. But they are hated by many, seen as evil, dark, brooding, harbingers of bad things and in league with devil. Why is that? How did crows go from being revered as the sacred and magical beings that they are to maligned and mistrusted?

As with many of our sacred things, there has been an intentional twist in our history and our remembering. A bird which held the mysteries of spirit travel and the movement between worlds was a threat to the church, to the control systems, and to the patriarchal structures of power. So over time, our knowledge of them was eroded and replaced with an inversion. An intentional attempt to malign them in the popular understanding so that their magic was rejected has resulted in some seeing them as evil, and associated with the devil, (which is often a representation of the wild, our wildness, or our true wild nature, a Christian separation of humans from nature and particularly from the divine feminine, the chaos of nature).

There is also another aspect to this, with some getting high on the idea of dark magic as a means of power and control, riding a wave of perceived darkness as a way of feeling a sense of unhealthy and unbalanced power.

I say both are very wrong. I say crows are magical birds who hold deep wisdom and a powerful connection on these lands. I say crows are our kin, our guides, our teachers, I say crows are our friends and our equals, if only we can drop the conditioning and allow ourselves the freedom

Excerpts from A Cosmology of Right Relationship, which is a philosophical underpinning of my work. If you’d like to read...
14/10/2026

Excerpts from A Cosmology of Right Relationship, which is a philosophical underpinning of my work. If you’d like to read the whole thing (it’s long and quite dense, and only the first section of what is basically a manifesto), the link is in my stories.

“Wildness here refers to the felt, embodied, and relational knowing of a creature who understands themselves to be part of a living web, part of a cosmological weaving of reality, life, death, transformation, and all within the cycles. It is more akin to the ancient understanding of the term sovereignty as one who is wedded to the land, both responsible for and responsible to, in equality and power. The argument here is that this sovereignty is part of our remembering our fully natural humanity. When we remember our inner wildness, we also remember the cosmological responsibility that that wildness carries, and we reject the order of hierarchy which places one above another. Because we understand that within the web, all are equally weighted, all are important.”

I think part of me just wanted somewhere really inaccessible intellectually to send the men who like to argue with me about what humans actually are, and what we could be. So for any future mansplainers in the area, just send them to me and I’ll send them into the depths of my cosmological meanderings, never to return. Mwahahaha

There’s a comfort in descending, even when it is not comfortable. The nights draw in and we draw in with them. Find many...
13/10/2026

There’s a comfort in descending, even when it is not comfortable. The nights draw in and we draw in with them.

Find many offerings at Wild Folk Apothecary to support you in your wanderings. I will be lighting the fire today, sweeping the floors, and walking the fields with my hound. Work can wait.

We live a simple enough life here amongst the oaken bones of this seven hundred year-old shelter in which we find our ho...
12/10/2026

We live a simple enough life here amongst the oaken bones of this seven hundred year-old shelter in which we find our home. It often feels more like a burrow than a house; dark, chthonic, filled with stone, and wood, and dust. Cold, but teeming with life, with memory, and with a living spirit that never fails to impress itself upon any who walk across the threshold.

This skeletal wooden being holds me fast as I while away my days, writing, making, wondering. And I think of how, in so many ways, to the outside, I may appear as one who has not the trappings of success. I have neither played nor won the game of capitalism. But in so many ways, I have found a path to the hearth through my own sorrows, through the wildwoods, and through the rocky understory of my own belonging. And so I sit inside and I listen to the rain, and I find my words rising like weeds springing up from the concrete. And I tend my fire as if it is the sacred flame within my own heart. And I feel contentment.

It is cleavers who calls to me this week, shooting up in second-spring clusters from the hedgerows, bright and green and filled with life. She is a plucky little sticky little being, with her tiny, velcro-like hairs and her minuscule starry flowers. Cleavers is a plant that works on us in a very physical way, her stickiness pulling sludge and toxicity out of the lymphatic system. Indeed, it is said that if a person drinks cleavers water every day for fourteen weeks, they would become so beautiful as to be unrecognisable to all who knew them.

I walk every morning, and in so doing, I feel the heartbeat of the land. The sunrise blazing up from behind the trees, a...
11/10/2026

I walk every morning, and in so doing, I feel the heartbeat of the land. The sunrise blazing up from behind the trees, adorning the earth with the first kisses of golden autumn light. This morning, my heart is drawn to the beating heart of our living mother, as ever.

This morning, I have the overwhelming urge to become so mighty and strong and huge that I can wrap my arms around her and hold her, and protect her from all the machines of extraction and destruction that seek to further plunder her beautiful soil.

My house is a living being and the fireplace is her heart. To live here is to live within the bones and bowels of an anc...
08/10/2026

My house is a living being and the fireplace is her heart.

To live here is to live within the bones and bowels of an ancient oak carapace, shot through with spirits and memories and slips of time.

Those who also walked beneath these beams with their hanging herbs and clinging fire-smoke blackness are with us still, part of the fabric of the egregore of this place.

The hedgerows are holding it together.
06/10/2026

The hedgerows are holding it together.

Perhaps she calls you but you don’t know how to work with her? Mugwort always has more to teach us. If you are ready to ...
05/10/2026

Perhaps she calls you but you don’t know how to work with her? Mugwort always has more to teach us.

If you are ready to step into the old ways, to remember the language of the earth, I invite you to join me for Mugwort Moon Matriarch, a 12-module self-paced online journey into plant-spirit communication.

See links or send me a DM and I will send you the details.

There is much folklore associated with the sour quince, which was sometimes buried with the dead to ensure safe onward t...
03/10/2026

There is much folklore associated with the sour quince, which was sometimes buried with the dead to ensure safe onward travel into the realms beyond. The quince is a divine offering, the forbidden fruit, the golden apple of myth and legend.

The quince has long been known as a symbol of love and fertility, a gift from the gods to those seeking to bring sweetness to the marriage bed. Brides would bite into the quince summoning affection and good fortune.

In homes, quinces were hung to ward off ill winds and evil spirits, their tough skin a shield against energies unseen.

To dream of quinces could bring portents of prosperity, but to eat the sour flesh in the dream world could signify illness or hardship to come.

It was said that witches could take the form of a quince, lying in strange places to deceive those who passed by. It was wise to tread carefully, for a fruit out of place might not be a fruit at all.

A gift of quince preserve between lovers, was said to stir the heart and bind the soul in deep and unshakable affection.

Quinces don’t really look real, they look like perfect paintings of themselves. A strange fur coats their shanks, their scent is intoxicating and indescribable. They are said to be poisonous raw (which isn’t true, they are just very hard and very astringent). When cooked they turn the most beautiful blushing pink and taste like exotic secrets. At this time of year they can be found piled up outside the houses of those lucky enough to have quince trees, and I receive them gladly. Quince cake is an autumnal delight, as is the syrup produced from poaching these voluptuous golden treasures.

Yes that’s my fireplace 🙂

You can pre-order my book, The Wild Becoming: Plant Kinship, Threshold Medicine and Reweaving the Natural Soul (which has nothing in it about quinces, incidentally) from all good bookshops, and via Wild Folk Apothecary

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