Author: Hope Grows Editor

October 2022

The kids are back in school, I can hear them when I’m working in the garden. Their voices mark time in my workday, while the plants mark time in the garden. It’s an autumn garden now, alive with purple beautyberry, dahlias, mums, and autumn joy. All summer, nature and the gardens give abundantly: we have the sun until 9, flowers give us show after show, and the pollinators float around in front of our eyes. I can feel Mother Nature retracting some of that. As the plants start to die back, and darkness creeps in earlier, chasing me home at the end of the day, I can’t help but tug back against her, but she always wins.

In the past month, 3 people, on separate occasions, have turned to me within the first fifteen minutes of experiencing the Hope Grows gardens for the first time and said, “this is very relaxing,” or “this is very therapeutic.” The look in their eyes softened, they dropped their shoulders, smiled a little, and exhaled an unexpected, but welcome, sigh. The gardens seemed to make them feel a little safer than when they got out of the car. I’m glad. Because, at those moments, my mind was definitely not relaxed. I was actually completely focused on work, cutting a couple of nice bouquets or preparing to direct volunteers. I claim no credit for the biophilic effect, except maybe whatever regular upkeep I’ve been able to do on the plants.

One of my regular volunteers last year would always tell me that the garden helped her clear her head after work. I couldn’t claim credit there either, as I was usually focused on whatever I needed her help with. This has all gotten me thinking about the therapeutic nature of gardens, how to go about creating them, and where humans fit in. The plants can’t plant themselves, but once in the right place, with the right care, they can provide support and healing, without me even telling them to. They just do, reaching out like a great piece of music that soothes the soul-to everyone. Just like in music, they work off each other, joining with one another in harmony to create a stronger sense of peace and healing. I’ve said this before, but there is a greater intelligence at work in the gardens, one that doesn’t require me to turn it on every time someone walks into the garden that needs healing or peace. It’s very gentle, and you won’t find it in every garden. Watching the gardens help people like that makes me want to become a better garden caregiver, as it is undeniable that these gardens are themselves providing care for the caregiver.

Plant: Ginger (Zingiber officinale)

Doterra Essential Oil: Ginger

Rishi tea: Masala Chai

The healing plant for October is our old friend ginger, a plant that has been relied upon for its healing properties for over 5000 years. Known for its abilities to quell nausea, soothe inflammation and assuage some cold and flu symptoms, it lives into its meaning as a symbol of strength. For centuries, seaman have been given ginger to chew for seasickness. I was once offered candied ginger by a kind soul seated next to me on an airplane, while I was dealing with a bad bout of airsickness and it worked. Fresh ginger tea is usually on my nightstand whenever I’m in bed with a cold. And many arthritis sufferers contend that regularly including fresh ginger in their diet helps ease some of their pain and inflammation. In each of these situations, though the ailments affect different parts of the body, it’s ginger that provides a link to feeling safer and stronger. Nausea is settled, cold symptoms are soothed, and arthritis pain is managed, all in a day’s work. Red ginger, Zingiber officinale’s fiery cousin, grown for its beautiful red flower, actually symbolizes safety. The stronger and healthier we are, the safer we feel. Some folklore even suggests carrying ginger with you as a protection from negativity or putting it under your pillow to guard against bad dreams.

Native to tropical Asia, ginger is hardy in zones 9-11. Folklore says to plant one in your yard to attract prosperity, but in our area, zone 6b, you would have to grow it in a pot if you wanted it to survive year-round. The name Zingiber originates from the Sanskrit word “srngaveram,” meaning “horn body,” referring to the antler shape of the rhizomes, fleshy underground stems that are often mistaken for roots. It’s there that ginger’s medicine is found, including the essential oil.

The rhizomes can be peeled and used fresh (sliced or grated), dried, pickled, preserved, ground, crystalized or candied. Ginger is one of the most popular culinary spices worldwide, especially in Asian and Indian dishes, where it’s used daily, as a staple spice, in curries, stews, gravies, soups, meat dishes and more. This includes being one of the main ingredients in the aromatic Indian tea “Masala chai,” our Rishi tea of the month. And, alongside garlic and green onion, ginger is a member of the “holy trinity” of Chinese cooking. In American fare, however, you’re more likely to find it in baking, holiday cookies, breads and ginger ale. As for me, I love ginger tea, made from chunks of fresh ginger, cinnamon and cloves. I find safety in its strength. If you would like the recipe, reach out to me at JessicaGiannotta@hopegrowsdev.wpengine.com