Seeing this lovely flower in our yard, I was reminded of bee balm's flower and thought it must be some sort of herb, so the quest was on. What is its name? I asked some old-timers at the Fourth of July parade, and they agreed that it's self-heal, also known as heal-all.
How much better (in the language of medicinal herbs, that is) can it get?
After sitting with it (á la Jane) in our sunny front yard yesterday, I found it to be a twisty little plant, as I had to insinuate my fingers into its close-growing body to find a place to pull off a branch to sniff. No discernable scent (other than purple, which most folks may be perplexed by, but it's meaningful to me in that it's reminiscent of grape Kool-Aid, which most kids of my era are fully familiar with), even when I crushed a leaf a little between my fingers. But then I thought I smelled the green of any plant's leaf-scent (such marvelous science conducted here!).
According to the herbal I found it in (100 Favorite Herbs by Teri Dunn), this relative of the mint obviously enjoyed a fine reputation as a treatment for many things, including a topical salve or poultice for cuts, burns, rashes, and bleeding hemorrhoids. Taken internally, it was reputed to reduce fevers and could serve as a diuretic. A tea brewed from its leaves was said to be soothing to gum inflammations and sore throats or as a mouthwash.
Another way humans have used this beautiful plant is for its dye properties. Its leaves are said to produce a soft yellow to golden color in fabrics.
But it's not a plant's "usefulness" that interests me most, it's its beauty, and the humble self-heal has insinuated itself into our lawn like a hidden treasure.
