Uploaded
Sun. 4:04 AM
June 15, 09

On Jun 13, 2009, at 11:10 PM, Richo Cech wrote:

Dear Seeders,

We've recently been deluged with rain, and also deluged with requests for a continuation of our story "Adventures in Zanzibar," so here's a quick summer newsletter to bring you up to date on Horizon Herbs seed farm.


If you want to go right to the website and scroll down and check the current rainbow bedecked photo of Horizon Herbs Seed Farm without reading the exciting story that's pasted here at the bottom of this e-mail, then here's the link http://www.horizonherbs.com/


The spring was wet and has really extended itself into the summer--only a few very hot days so far--lots of thunderstorms and cool breezes. The weeds are growing like mad! The corn is slow to germinate but the greens have been extraordinarily lush, and we're feeling healthy due to the influence of eating--plants! We've transplanted most of our seed crops, and they are further along than usual, due in part to a focus on early spring greenhousing. Peppers are in full flower as are tomatoes, and the Maravilla is trumpeting splendidly. The Baical Skullcap patch re-emerged vigorously through its sand mulch, and is now rumbling in pre-emergent glory, like a storm coming in from the far horizon, lightning bolts ready to split open buckets of nectar to grease the chins of hovering phoenix moths.

We're collecting quite a few seeds--early summer things like Angelica, Butterbur, Chickweed and Dandelion. We're germ testing everything and wow, do those seeds grow! In the fields, the Osha (Ligusticum porteri) flowers that bedeck our older plants are giving way to a heady seed crop, and there are thousands of new Osha seedlings raising their bright little Celery faces to the sun. The naysayers are spinning in their graves. The Ashitaba will soon go to seed, as will the Wild Geranium and of course the Greater Celandine.

As far as the nursery goes, we have lots and lots of prime plants that we're still shipping, and of course they are getting bigger and better as the summer progresses. If you need any medicinals, common or rare, please feel free to order! We again passed our state certification and organic certification with no troubles and in celebration (of being out in the sun, not staring at a computer), we've decided to offer up some truly incredible plants that we've long held onto (but these particular ones are not cheap):

Bodhi Tree potted plant: A rare offering of robust and correctly identified progeny from the tree that sheltered Buddha as he attained enlightenment. Follow this link (includes photo):
http://www.horizonherbs.com/product.asp?specific=2368


Ayahuasca (Yage') (Banisteriopsis caapi) potted vine. Very healthy plants suitable for the most discerning collector. Follow this link
http://www.horizonherbs.com/product.asp?specific=2367


Now offering top size PAWPAW trees (Asimina triloba) grown from seed of tasty fruited cultivars. Follow this link: http://www.horizonherbs.com/product.asp?specific=1456


SEEDS SEEDS SEEDS SEEDS SEEDS SEEDS SEEDS SEEDS SEEDS

Excellent time to order Goldenseal Seed (Hydrastis Canadensis) as the new crop will soon be in and it works best to plant the fresh seed immediately, with germination next spring. Here's the link: http://www.horizonherbs.com/product.asp?specific=489


New Cold Hardy True Lotus Seeds in Stock!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Nelumbo nucifera komarovii hails from Russia near Manchuria and it is the most cold-hardy of all the true lotuses. They withstand temperatures to -40 degrees F and they make flowers that are just as large and pretty as the tropical lotuses. We tested the seed to 70% germination in the first week, and the remaining seeds eventually did germinate with an end germ of 100%. There's a photo of the germinating seed at this link, which is also where you can obtain the packeted seed http://www.horizonherbs.com/product.asp?specific=2362


Rubber tree seeds (Hevea brasiliensis) now in stock!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
An exclusive offering of fresh, viable seed. Follow this link:
http://www.horizonherbs.com/product.asp?specific=2366



Check this link for awesome pics of Jatropha multifida "Coral Plant" or mbuluki. These are newly harvested seeds from Zanzibar and wow do they germ! http://www.horizonherbs.com/product.asp?specific=2361


Check this link for True Comfrey (Symphytum officinalis) seed. This is one of the top healing herbs of all time http://www.horizonherbs.com/product.asp?specific=1856


Ashitaba update: At this writing (mid-June 2009) our Ashitaba is in full, vibrant flower and the fresh seed will certainly be available in August if not earlier. Given that the fresh seed produces the best results, and given the exalted status of this plant as the closest thing to a panacea we've ever experienced, we beg your early order to assure delivery in good form, and the presence of this incredible plant in your greenhouses and gardens. We've posted new photos. Here's the link http://www.horizonherbs.com/product.asp?specific=1302




Further Adventures in Zanzibar, wherein the author is accosted by hoards of curious schoolchildren.



To recap, we last left our intrepid adventurer on the island of Misale, where he discovered that the antidote to an insidiously attractive bright red poisonous fruit was out there waving at him the whole time-the mother ocean.



The roads of Zanzibar are not well traveled. This is because they are in such a state of disrepair that traveling on the road is not usually a very effective way to get around. One is likely to fall into a particularly nasty pothole and get skewered on sharp pieces of coral. Most traffic, including foot, bicycle, "piki-piki" (motorcycle), automobile and even some of the truck traffic opts to use the smooth paths at the side of the road instead of braving the broken pavement. These paths tend to be well-worn by the passing of many soles and rubber tires, and for the most part they are safer than the roadway itself. Except when one comes to a bridge, of course. . .



The sun was bright and hot as I walked down the hill toward the town of Wete on the northern tip of the island of Pemba. Since mid-morning, I'd been botanizing and witch-doctoring with Salimbum up in Kinyasini, and I was looking forward to getting back to my little room. Looking forward, in fact, to a nap. I hiked along the path at the side of the road, maintaining a good pace, smiling and waving as from time to time people greeted me, but not stopping to chat. My Columbian mochila (a kind of shoulder bag) swung heavily at my side, bulging from within, as it was stuffed with fresh roots, bark, leaves, packets of seeds, my journal, and my bulky digital camera.



Approaching the more densely populated outskirts of the town, I dilated my nostrils at the spicy aroma of massive stores of drying cloves. Risking life and limb, the people of Wete climb high into the clove trees in order to collect great sacks of the fleshy, dark red, immature flower buds. The cloves are subsequently spread out in thin layers on special mats in the sun and stirred often until they dehydrate to the rather disappointing chocolate brown color of the spice. If a raincloud should pass overhead, women rush out to cover the cloves, lest the aroma be lost upon rehydration, and the crop ruined.



Off to the side of the road, seated on flimsy benches beneath an even flimsier corrugated tin overhang, sat a group of men dressed in the white robes of the Arab-Swahili, some of them wearing skullcaps, others bare headed. Some of the heads were grey. All of the men nursed tiny cups of black coffee, from which they sipped appreciatively from time to time. They jovially raised their cups and shouted out to me in Swahili "Come over here!" I shrugged, smiled, and greeted them with respect, while they slid over to make a place for me on the bench. The wood of the bench was dark and shiny with use, gleaming like ebony, and it creaked when I sat on it, so that I thought I might amuse them greatly right from the start, by breaking the bench and falling in the dust--but it held. A cracked porcelain cup was placed in my hand, and I sipped the bitter "kahawa" (coffee) and immediately felt that a nap would no longer be necessary.



"Leta story!" they cried. This means "Tell us a story!" and a hush fell upon them, and all eyes ranged expectantly over my features, my face so white in contrast to their shiny blackness, my long blonde dreadlock completely out of place in this respectful circle of elders. I quickly employed evasive tactics, and tucking my hair behind, answered with a question. "Can anyone tell me," I asked in what I hoped was fluent Swahili, "specifically what the Qur'an says about Habat Soda?" Habat soda, I had recently learned, is the Swahili name for Black Seed (Nigella sativa) which with the possible exception of "Mwarobaini" (Neem) is probably the most respected medicinal herb on the islands. It can be obtained in whole seed form, or in the form of a fixed oil, and is commonly employed for treating sore muscles, wounds and diverse maladies of the skin.



This question diverted attention from me, and primed new conversation, as the group began to argue Qu'ranic polemics. I didn't have to think of a story. The owner of the shop, if one could call it that, was a tall "Mzee" who carried himself with importance as he sat at the head of the group, his back to the wall. After all, he had the coffee, which formed the nucleus. His large bare feet were fringed by the torn cuffs of his pants, which were tied to his gaunt frame by a belt of twine. He wore a white shirt with missing buttons, and sported a handsome grey beard, that sprouted out like moss from beneath his protuberant lower lip. Preening the beard with one hand, he poured the last of the coffee (and a few grounds) into my cup with the other, and then called out imperatively to a youth to brew more. A dented tin can half filled with heavy copper pennies, the proceeds of his sales, rested between his feet.



By and by all present seemed to come to an agreement that the answer to my question should be provided by the best Arabic scholar in the bunch. A stooped man with one blind eye stood, cleared his throat importantly, seated his skullcap more firmly on his head, knuckles knotty, and aspirated the words with great force, pushing them past his single front tooth, words shooting out of his mouth along with a little coffee-colored spittle, which I avoided by scrunching back slightly on my seat. As far as I could decipher, his answer was "The Qu'ran says that Habat Soda is good for treating all ills of mankind except death!"



Just then I had the funniest sensation that my mochila, which was still strung loosely over my shoulder, its bulk resting beside me on the bench, had somehow come alive, vibrating and moving of its own volition. I turned around and discovered many tiny hands patting my mochila from all sides. The hands were attached to the skinny arms of school children, who were crowding toward me from the street. School, apparently, was out.



Having been surprised in the act, the closest children shrank away from me despite my amused grin, my large frame rising up from the bench, my ghost-like whiteness, the dreadful dreadlock swinging free. But these close children were kept from escaping by the other children, who were many, too many to count, still pressing forward toward the little shop, chattering and squealing among themselves. As far as I could figure, they ranged in age from 5 to 8. They were all dressed in identical uniforms of white and blue.



Apparently bent on teaching the children a lesson, the Mzee let out a roar and nimbly jumped over the bench (his head narrowly missing the poles that held up the corrugated ceiling of his shack) shouting "Toroka hapa!" which means "Get out of here!" The crowd of children parted before him like waves around a dugout. He then pulled a long pole from its storage place on the roof and began to swing it wildly over the heads of the children, as if they were pigeons in the park. Now the children ran, all of them in the same direction, screaming in fright, away from the shack, away from that horrible whistling vengeful rod, back up the road. As I watched, one small child, having dropped her lunch bucket when first she ran, was forced to scramble back toward danger. She was sobbing when with trembling hands she managed to retrieve her bucket, all the while looking up at me, hands groping like a raccoon after a crawdad, her face a mask of abject terror.



To be continued . . .



If you wish to reply to this newsletter, don't hit "reply," it won't work. Instead e-mail herbseed@budget.net




 

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