Maya Thomas has been knitted into my words for a good while. In fact, a few years ago I wrote about one of our early meetings in this newsletter, when it was still under its noughticulture guise. I was writing and sending it on a more ad-hoc basis then, so something had to be really galvanising to get into people’s inboxes (it still does now, but the impetus is a little more regular). Maya is galvanising.

She explains below what her practice and work looks like, so let me tell you instead why I chose her to be among the custodians of savourites while I tend to small C. Maya never turns up empty-handed: there will be a sprig of bay leaves, carefully transported from Provence, or two little Aero bars, or a flask filled with poached pears, releasing the smell of star anise into cold air. Beyond that there are the stories; Maya sees the small drama in the everyday, which is something that has always been a motivation behind savour. She is part of a very small group of people I will invite to cook with me - I am very happy to be cooked for, but it’s a largely solitary pursuit I like to do alone. I saw her most recently when C was a handful of days old and M had to go out for the evening. She turned up, said yes when, on the doorstep, I said: “Shall we go to the pub?” and then proceeded to lay the table with the most perfect little dinner. These are her words:

I spend a lot of time trying to explain to people what it is I do. When the word “herbologist” springs forth it lands in one of two ways. It’s either met with an over exited “Oh my god I’ve never met a herbalist before!” followed by an outpouring of the person’s personal health history, or a very vague “Oh riiiight.” accompanied by an expectant and often awkward pause. In both cases I have some explaining to do.

I’m not a herbalist, or at least I’m not a medical herbalist. Let me explain further: a medical herbalist is someone who has studied for several years and has undertaken hundreds of hours of clinical practise. They can dispense herbal medicines tailored to your specific needs, and have a solid understanding of how the body works, coupled with knowledge of any contraindications that may crop up between modern pharma and the plant medicines they’re prescribing.

Me? I’m just a herb fangirl. I love them. I love their history, their folklore, their phytochemical constituents. I love to grow them and most importantly I love to EAT them. I love that these plants have helped us evolve as a species, and I love the potential of what they can do for us in ways we are only beginning to explore. They are simply the most giving of plants.

But if you’d like a reasonable answer, a herbologist is someone who studies plants. For me that isn’t strictly scientific. In fact, my taxonomy and recollection of Latin names is appalling. Anyone can learn about the structure and constituents of these plants from books. But learning how to be in relationship with them is something, in my experience, that we need a little help with.

I didn’t want to be a healthcare practitioner. Not because I don’t care, but because I think my particular skillset is best used in communicating the brilliance of these plants through the most tangible ways. Mostly food, but not exclusively. Of course my knowledge base has been, and continues to be, grounded in education, (you can read about part of my journey in Why Women Grow). But I use this education, as well as my experience in working as a chef, grower and storyteller as a spring board to communicate the importance of these plants on a wider platform.

I’m particularly vocal on my soapbox / herb-box at this time of year. It’s Spring (ignore the weather outside - it is definitely spring). It’s time for the WEEDS! Those plants we’re taught to shun from our gardens (should you have one), or that grow in in the unkempt spaces of parks, commons and the wider world.

I loathe the word detox. But these nutrient plants can help replenish our systems after long cold winters. They are quite simply some of our oldest medicines, and they still have a place in our day to day lives. And even more specifically on our plates. They’re reliable, turning up year after year and will continue to grow no matter the increasingly insane weather patterns. Their presence can ground and reassure us, and best of all they’re free, abundant and assessable to all.

Here are three of my favourite Springtime plants… ...