NOTE to. self // Just do something
As Earth Day lands in our calendars for 2023, the most important thing you can do is just do something. Just ask the humble daisy.
Welcome to NOTES from a. botanical world and Happy Earth Day, the internationally recognised homage to Mother Nature.
It’s taken me a while to get here – almost an Earth year since I set up a Substack account in fact – but as the motto of this story is ‘just do something’ (actually my motto for approaching any overwhelming task) that’s exactly what I’ve done.
Having tusseled with the settings (actually relatively simple) and which name to use (decided to just stick with what I’ve got in the end – if it ain’t broke don’t fix it), the most important thing for me to do today was to resurrect my writing practice so I could share all my insights, and news about not just my botanical world, but yours (we’re in this together you know).
This will include nature musings, gardening stories, herbal explorations, cultural happenings, insider interviews, book excerpts, tried and tested tutorials, the odd nature-based playlist, and a smattering of humorously lensed life lessons from the other side (we’re all on the other side of something, right?). You’ll be able to join me for regular newsletter (dates tbc) and offerings, free and on subscription direct to your inbox (£3.50 a month or £30 a year gives you access to everything, from the inspiring to the sardonic, no searching required). Watch this space for more details, when I’ve just done something about that ;-) Can’t wait to build up a menu for those who want to wander this botanical world with me. For those not familiar with my work, there’s a little intro to some of my passions and books on the about page. Writer, author, nature love, artist, gardener, teacher, mum, part-time warrior.
Just do something else
The second thing was to actually write something (and get it done while the kids are at football). So in honour of Earth Day I’m devoting this piece, my first on Substack, to the humble daisy. A flower so disconcertingly simple but actually designed with the complexity of a hundred flowers in one, each raised component of that startling yellow bee, butterfly and hoverfly magnet in the centre actually a sessile (non-stemmed) flower in its own right. Heavy in protein- and fat- rich pollen and energy-boosting nectar.
For me, the daisy – common daisy, lawn daisy, English daisy, whatever you want to call it – symbolises everything that we should be thinking about this Earth Day and next. It is small but resilient, pays short shrift to diseases or insects (those with the intent to damage rather than help reproduce), has a long flowering season (from April to October, standard) despite the comings and goings of the interminably unsettled weather, will grow in most well-draining soils, and can multiply by vegetative means as well as seed.
It appears to be nothing fancy, although those white ray petals around the pollen-heavy centre are super radiant in the sun and sometimes tinged with pink; it knows how to party when it wants to. And did I mention the spoon-shaped leaves? While the flowers bloom atop of a leafless stem, a hairy scape that springs straight from the root, those widening leaves spread out in a rosette from the base, providing valuable ground cover. Spoons for holding something. Strength, shelter, and hope?
Bellis perennis, the ‘pretty’ and ‘everlasting’ if one is prone to an etymological tangent as I am, is also a master of heliotropism, turning its ‘days eye’ to the position of the sun. At night it closes and gets some sleep. Inspiring and wise. It’s also medicinal and edible (although some people do have allergies to plants in the daisy family) with traditional names including bruisewort for its vulnerary (wound-healing), astringent, and ani-inflammatory properties. Not unlike arnica but so much more available.
The leaves can be added to salads although can taste bitter, while the flowers are pretty as garnishes or pickled as an alternative to capers, running hot on the heels of multi-tasking nasturtium pods. Daisies do grow low to the ground though and I’m not sure I would eat them from nearby Wanstead Flats going by the number of dogs that pasture up there. But in an emergency, for survival? For sure, it’s well worth knowing these things, alongside taking heed of the emergency alert on your phone tomorrow for who knows what disasters the powers-that-be are predicting.
All in all, the daisy is the unassuming Queen of doing something. So if you’re wondering what to do for Earth Day, to address climate change, to bring down your energy bills, or to make necessary changes in your life or the way you engage with nature you could do worse than to take inspiration from her. Just do something. Or a sequence of somethings if you’re feeling ambitious.
Law low. Hug the Earth. Throw open your petals. Follow the sun. Feed the bees. Get some sleep. Flower long. Keep it simple. Find the power to heal. Begin again. And even when you get trampled underfoot (as my kids are probably actioning right now as they gleefully focus on their dribbling and ball skills), you will survive.
Until next time. Next Earth Day? No, much, much sooner than that.