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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04/11/2026

As I walked this morning, high in the lonely fields, a quartet of giggling guinea fowl huddled across my path, down into the ditch, then up away from me and the snuffling hound as we trudged our path home. It felt so much that they moved as one, a safety in their foursome, a gathering of community. And that sense of togetherness is so much what we are being called to create in the world right now. Indeed, it is being created. We are creating it. It is already shimmering with life.

02/11/2026

Property is misalignment. Ownership is only found in reciprocity and relationship; in the mechanics of belonging. How strange is the concept of ownership over Earth?

01/11/2026

Sovereignty is often conflated with selfishness and self-interest, but that is not the cosmological expression of sovereignty as responsibility and embedment.

My latest article is up. I’ll pop a link in my stories.

30/10/2026

Samhain

The wheel turns. The year begins in the darkness where all things begin.

This is a time for reverence, ritual, and remembering.

A time for honouring the Earth and all who have gone before us.

A time for listening to the intuition and hearing the voices of the ancestors.

We will see what we need to see and hear what we need to hear if we can get quiet enough to listen.

The traditions which have become what we now celebrate are an inversion of what we are being called to do at this time of mists and lowering sun.

We are being called into ourselves and into the wisdom and nourishment of the Earth, to celebrate our ancestors and the dead, the harvest, the sense of hunkering down and preparing for the darker, colder months ahead.

Now is the time to be harvesting the fruits of the seeds we planted in the spring and reflecting on what the time of dark winter dreaming can bring to our imaginings.

Honour the season by offering your thanks to the land which sustains you, by burning dried mugwort in your home, by roasting pumpkin and squash, by bringing in apples as a symbol of rebirth and immortality, and by setting an extra place at your table.

I’ve been out with my camera the last few mornings, because the light is just so beautiful. It changes at this time of year, You can feel it, and I think it’s why so many say the veil thins. I don’t think it thins, I think that connection is always there, but that the living mists are communicators, the falling leaves are messengers, and the lowering light is an illuminator for all the natural abilities we always have, and that is why the spirit world feels closer.

29/10/2026

The Suffolk skies putting on a glorious show this misty morning.

A poem I wrote yesterday:

So, what will you do with your own particular madness?

Will you allow it to consume you and all others around you?

Or will you take it inside and find it a soft place to wander?

A soft place to fall.

On Saturday, I turn 46 years old, and I am a pupa.

My madness has become my outsides and my insides,

And my soft sandpaper flesh wishes it was a red-breasted robin,

Sitting and chirping and tilting my head

And staring in at me through my window.

******

26/10/2026

Mugwort has long been known as a bridge between worlds, a sacred plant being of hedgerow and meadow who carries the power of dream, vision, and the resonance of freedom. She is an opener of doors, a guardian of thresholds, a holder of ancient wisdom, and a key to unlocking who we truly are beyond the confines of our conditioning.

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.

I’m offering a 25% Samhain discount on this course. It is the perfect companion to this time of resonance and reflection. See links, leave a comment or send me a DM and I will send you the details.

25/10/2026

Natural law is the relational structure that sustains the conscious fabric of reality. It emerges from the requirements of maintaining balance within the relational field of conscious participation. It is the conscious fabric of reality itself, and is therefore necessarily not created or imposed by God, state, institution, or belief system.

Natural law, therefore, is the living order of right relationship. It is the pattern that, when honoured, allows all beings to participate, flourish, and co-create. Included within natural law in this cosmology is what we might call morality, but as an objective force of balance and right relationship rather than a specific code of behaviour, which is woven into the structure of the cosmos itself.

But the state of nature, the state of wildness, is not chaos. It is instead the expression of right relationship. It is the condition of living in full participation with the relational cosmology, understanding one’s place within it, and honouring the responsibilities that flow from that place.

When we shift our understanding of wildness and our place within the state of nature, to that of a moral responsibility to participate in the cosmology as a natural being, we see that to reject nature as other is to act outside of the moral order of the cosmos, causing rupture, and imbalance.

Placing all of nature beneath God and man as an object to be utilised is an act of astonishing amoral distortion which replaced responsibility and balance with deference and dominion. This flattened hierarchy instructed the natural human, now abstracted from the web, to look upwards for authority and guidance, and downwards for resources and power.

Full article on Substack.

Art - Corresponding Radiance by Andy Kehoe Andy Kehoe

Hand carved ash flute by Willow Freeman Toddington Willow Freeman Toddington

Drum of doorways by Of Soil and Spirits Jack Antony

Coastal Wildflowers by Lucy Grossmith Lucy Grossmith

Imaginary River Goddess by Nick Hayes nickhayesillustration

24/10/2026

The most beautiful gift arrived.

22/10/2026

Mugwort — a Moon Matriarch for these times of disconnection.

The consciousness-expanding, realm-crossing, natural law restoring medicine of Mugwort is right here in the hedgerows.

Mugwort is one of the oldest plant-beings on earth, she appeared as the ice receded at the end of the last ice age, and one of her family is used in ritual and ceremony on every continent.

A herb of dreams, visions, and ancestral memory, she opens the pathways between worlds and invites you to remember who you were before you forgot. Mugwort is a traditional herb of Bealtaine, as she helps to tone the transitions between states of being, allowing us to see more clearly into other realms.

Mugwort is one of the plants I write about most deeply in my book, The Wild Becoming - Plant Kinship, Threshold Medicine, and Reweaving the Natural Soul, she has been a long-time companion and a guide in my own journey of remembering.

My immersive twelve-module course will take you deep into her medicine, her magic, and her spirit. Guided journeys, teachings, practices, and rituals; the forming and building of a plant-spirit relationship.

DM me with any questions, or find the link in my bio. I don’t do automation so will respond personally to any messages or comments. Mugwort is waiting to bring you into the arms of plant spirit medicine.

Blessings from the hedgerows.

21/10/2026

The skin is peeling from inside my mouth, a deep layer of rawness palpable and ulcerative. A metaphor perhaps, for that which can’t be said burning a hole through that which needs so much to say it. I still miss him.

The birds had been notably absent since the day he died. On a cold stone floor, a hot summer’s day; a Saturday. He left with peace, knowing that he held on for so long because I would find little peace once he was gone. He left behind so many questions of death. Why must we insist on saying it is peaceful when it is in fact cold, presumptuous, and urine-stained? It only seemed peaceful in its release, not in its reality.

He had become so much a part of the garden, his last months spent languorous amidst the overgrowth. The birds did not fear him, and would peck at the ground beside him with a level of ease that suggested he had already passed over.

He was so gentle to them.

I killed him. I called them so they came and killed him.

Kinder, they say, a final kindness.

It still feels like murder, to me.

This was written about my dear sweet Harry, a dog who I smuggled across the Irish Sea to keep him close. I got him from the pound in Cork when I was still in my twenties, and he stole my heart entirely.

Instagram is a place where they say depth isn’t welcome, but f**k that, I aspire to be every part of myself, however much I fail at that aspiration.

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