By Steph Zabel
Herbalist, Ethnobotanist and Educator
When I first moved to Boston a decade ago I felt like a country girl in the big city. I’d traveled and lived in several places before, but had never before set down roots in an urban environment. I was used to living amongst trees and woods, and wide-open spaces. Although I loved my new city home, I greatly missed natural open spaces, and forests, and wild places.
So I found consolation in a different sort of wildness: in untamed, weedy plants that sprout up in the neglected areas of town. Of all of these – the dandelions, chickweeds, shepherd’s purses and burdocks that I came to know and love – mugwort was the one to capture me the most.
When I first made acquaintances with this lovely creature I knew nothing of the plant, not even its name. I just loved the beautiful shape, tall stature, silvery leaves, and gracefulness as I observed mugwort swaying in the wind, or in the passing rumble of a train.