Comfrey or knitbone to give it its country name was a big part of my childhood. My nan used to wrap leaves of it around my sore joints to ease the pain. She used to make salves from it for when the leaves were not usable. I had to eat the leaves and drink an infusion as well. Sadly I still have my disease so it didn't cure it but it did help alleviate the pain. Nowadays they tell you not to drink it I think. Didn't harm me though, I'm still here:)
She also made the most foul smelling liquid to use on the garden because comfrey is a marvellous fertiliser. Mr Mog and I tried it several times and the results were great. We stopped after he accidentally spilt some across himself and it took a shower to get rid of the perfume.
Rudyard Kipling where coincidentally? the poem of the day is Puck's song
Seventy years ago.
Weather and rain have undone it again,
And now you would never know
There was once a road through the woods
Before they planted the trees.
It is underneath the coppice and heath,
And the thin anemones.
Only the keeper sees
That, where the ring-dove broods,
And the badgers roll at ease,
There was once a road through the woods.
Of a summer evening late,
When the night-air cools on the trout-ringed pools
Where the otter whistles his mate,
(They fear not men in the woods,
Because they see so few.)
You will hear the beat of a horse's feet,
And the swish of a skirt in the dew,
Steadily cantering through
The misty solitudes,
As though they perfectly knew
The old lost road through the woods.
Into the oak-woods far?
0 that was whence they hewed the keels
That rolled to Trafalgar.
To Bayharn's mouldering walls?
0 there we cast the stout railings
That stand around St. Paul's.
All hollow through the wheat?
0 that was where they hauled the guns
That smote King Philip's fleet.
Men sent in ancient years,
The horse-shoes red at Flodden Field,
The arrows at Poitiers!)
So busy by the brook?
She has ground her corn and paid her tax
Ever since Domesday Book.
And the dread ditch beside?
0 that was where the Saxons broke
On the day that Harold died.
About the gates of Rye?
0 that was where the Northmen fled,
When Alfred's ships came by.
Where the red oxen browse?
0 there was a City thronged and known,
Ere London boasted a house.
Of mound and ditch and wall?
0 that was a Legion's camping-place,
When Caesar sailed from Gaul.
Like shadows on the Downs?
0 they are the lines the Flint Men made,
To guard their wondrous towns.
Salt Marsh where now is corn-
And so was England born.
Water or wood or air,
But Merlin's Isle of Gramarye,
Where you and I will fare.
These next 2 pictures are for Leanne She had been searching for hope and look what we found in the gardens there.