The gentle art of leaf wine

Calm. Not just the popular app but a quality of life I’ve been craving. Gentleness. Quietness. Appreciation. Kindness. I’ve found myself seeking out tranquil videos on YouTube, the likes of Li Ziqi and Dianxi Xiaoge. It doesn’t matter that I can’t understand a word – in fact it seems to soothe my jangling nerves to not have to listen as someone endlessly rabbits on from the usual script; Hi guys, welcome to my channel, today we’re going to be looking at filling every available moment with meaningless chatter, don’t forget to like and subscribe!

I realise I’m trying to create a gentler life. I’ve always been drawn to bright colours and bohemian styling, but increasingly I’m replacing this with a more soothing, harmonious palette. Minimalism might be a step too far, but I’m drawn to the calm aesthetics and tranquil spaces that it espouses. I keep paring back, decluttering, discovering that the only thing I want more of is plants.

For a while now I’ve wondered about making my own videos as a form of appreciation for the gentle moments in life. I don’t have any specialist equipment or experience and I have no desire to appear on camera – yet my video watching has shown that there can be another way. Whether it’s Colette at Bealtaine Cottage talking to camera as she films her beautiful permaculture garden, or one of the many minimalist living vlogs that focus on food, design or gardening, I’ve found so much inspiration from videos that people have been brave enough to share. And it does seem like an act of bravery, given the number of trolls, haters and critics, people who don’t seem to care whether their words hurt or crush someone. Although there are a lot of people hoping to become famous YouTubers, not everyone shares that ambition. Some just want to create, or inspire, or share their knowledge.

It’s in that spirit that I’ve created my first video, about making hedgerow wine, a hobby I’ve had for several years now. So many people have asked me how to make wine that it seemed worthwhile to make a video on the subject. Not wanting to point a camera at my face while I jabber on about sterilising demijohns and the rules of foraging, I’ve aimed for the peaceful aesthetic that I’ve admired in others.

If you are tempted to try making leaf wine it needs to happen in Spring, while the leaves are soft and fresh, before they are too full of tannins. Most of the equipment can be found secondhand, or on Freecycle or similar, while Wilkinson’s/Wilko seem to be one of the few high street chains that carry wine and beer making equipment, such as yeast, citric acid etc. Leaf wines are one of the easiest and most reliable to make, and should be ready before Christmas – just please make sure you know which tree you’re taking the leaves from, use a reliable tree guide or ask a more experienced forager for help.

Foraging

Foraging apples, blackberries, elderberries, rosehips

Buoyed up by intention, I grabbed my basket and took a quick detour on the way to drop Ivy off at a sleepover. Down the road from The House in the Sky was a small park with a few large elder shrubs that I relied on when foraging elderflowers and berries, so we headed to it. Bittersweet feelings and memories bubbled up with each step, so many times we’d traced that path on walks or trips to the playground – this was our old stamping ground, no longer ours. As if to underline that, the bushes had been chopped down to the ground earlier this year, young green stems growing out of thick stubby trunks, but no hope of any berries. We took a different route back to the car, finding another elder growing up next to a garage – most of the berries were already shrivelled, but between us we managed to pick a handful. Evidently the plans I’d made for cooking up some elderberry cordial to see us through Winter’s coughs and colds, plus a bottle of elderberry liqueur, would not be happening this year. That’s the downfall of foraging; if you get out there too late, it’s gone. It’s frustrating as I know how effective elderberries can be in staving off colds – one year I made a flask full of hot elderberry cordial to take to a work event with me, needing to be at my best when I could feel myself coming down with a bad cold – after a day of sipping cup after cup, my symptoms vanished. Having been stuck with this current cold for almost two months, I could do with a few good cups of it now!

We headed over to the canal in the hope of finding an elder cloaked in shade and brimming with berries, but no such luck. Instead a box of apples on a cottage wall, free to take. We took a few, and found some late blackberries further up the path as well as a rose that was bursting with hips. Rose hips are also full of vitamin C and good medicine for Winter, I remember taking rosehip syrup as a child, bought at the local chemist rather than foraged. Once upon a time they would have been a vital source of vitamins, given that the UK didn’t have the climate for citrus fruit; Nature provides fruit and berries in the Autumn, allowing us to take in the vitamins we need to build ourselves up for Winter, while Spring brings the tonic herbs for detoxing and enlivening. The difficulty with rosehips is that the fine hairs surrounding the seeds are an irritant and used to be used in itching powder – not something that you want to ingest. As it looks like this year I’m going to be relying on rosehips instead of elderberries, I’ll have to do a bit of research into the most efficient/easy ways of using them. Over the last few years I’ve been trying to learn about herbalism and foraging and know how empowering it feels to make your own medicine; there’s a belief among herbalists that medicine you prepare yourself is the most effective. Similarly, foodstuffs that you plant and grow will become tailored to your needs, a medicine in itself. I’m in need of good medicine, of building myself up and empowering myself to move forward.

So, with only a handful of elderberries to play with, I did what I could, simmering them up in a bit of boiling water with a good dollop of raw honey and a smashed cardamom pod (cloves are usually recommended but I’d run out.) Pouring it into a mug, I added a healthy splash of last year’s rose brandy to turn it into my own take on a hot toddy. It was delicious, plus I’d enjoyed fresh air, sunshine and a walk with Ivy in order to gather it, all of which are part of the medicine.

I’ve found a recipe for rosehip syrup at www.laundryetc.co.uk and a rosehip liqueur at www.craftinvaders.co.uk, I’ll let you know how it goes!