The Backyard Living column is a regular feature in ABOUT the River Valley magazine and a partnership between this site, A View from the Backroads, and the McElroy House: Organization for Cultural Resources and Community Action. This column originally ran in the June issue ofABOUT the River Valley Magazine.
All columns in this series are written by Meredith Martin-Moats. Click here to learn about our other contributors to this site.
For a few years now I’ve been smitten with the yarrow plant, a common wildflower with a thousand uses. Known by the scientific name of Achillea Millefolium, this plant grows wild all over Asia, Europe, and North America and takes to a variety of soils easily. Considered by many people to be a weed, these prolific plants grow about knee high and produce beautiful fern-like leaves topped by clusters of disk-shaped white, red, yellow, or pink flowers. The leaves have an almost lace-like, cascading appearance, making the plant appear both vulnerable and sturdy at the same time. And perhaps this is what I admire most about this utilitarian beauty. The leaves may be feathery but the stalks are firm and nearly impossible to crush. Once established, they’re as hearty and tenacious as a dandelion. Forget them and they’ll still probably come back year after year. In other words, you’d have to work hard to kill them off. What’s not to love?
For as long as anyone can remember, herbalists and healers have been using yarrow for a host of medicinal uses including treating fevers, blood clots, common colds, stomach problems, toothaches, hemorrhoids, cramps, even hay fever. Yarrow is as versatile as it is strong. The herb was popular among many native american tribes across the continent and supposedly the Cherokee used it as a tea to help bring about restful sleep. Yarrow is perhaps best known for its power to stop bleeding and is therefore named achillea millefolium in honor of the Greek Trojan war hero Achilles, a mythical figure who inspired the oft-used term Achilles Heel. Homer tells us Achilles used yarrow on the battle field to save his soldiers even if it didn’t save him from his own poisonous arrow.
I first started experimenting with growing yarrow when I bought a few plants at the farmers market in Fayetteville a decade ago. When we moved from Arkansas to Kentucky we left those plants growing at the base of our rock garden we loved so dearly. Several years ago after returning to Arkansas I was riding with my cousins out to the Cotton Town cemetery near Cardon Bottoms in Yell County where we stopped near where my grandfather was raised as a young boy. As we walked along the side of the road I saw a patch of skinny, sparse yarrow growing in the grainy soil at the edge of the pavement.
During my grandfather’s day the road would have been made of dirt and gravel and lined with mosquito-filled rows of cotton where poor residents eked out living working as sharecroppers and tenant farmers. Who knows where that yarrow came from, but I couldn’t help but wonder if its roots dated to my grandfather’s time. Maybe he’d once picked some for the young woman who’d become my grandmother. Given the tenacity of a yarrow, it’s not unthinkable. So I dug some up and took it back to my own garden in Dardanelle. I’ve since moved from that garden to a new home in Little Rock where I recently decided to try my hand at growing the plant from seed, hoping to experiment with my own salves, teas and tinctures from the nutrient rich leaves.
Last year as part of our work with the McElroy House: Organization for Cultural Resources and Community Action we decided to host a small heirloom seed sale, and yarrow was among the butterfly and bee attracting plants we included in the sale. There were literally thousands of seeds that came in the packets we ordered from Baker Creek Heirloom Seed company, much more than anyone could ever use. For the sale I started the seeds in tiny planters made from recycled newspapers and sprinkled a few straggling seeds across my multiple flower gardens to experiment with growing conditions. In all cases they came up quickly, springing forth tiny delicate wisps and forming a fern-like base. They were popular at the seed sale, even though they’d yet to produce any flowers.
The ones in my garden continued to grow over the winter, becoming larger and more expansive. Even this year’s harsh snow and ice didn’t seem to phase the lacy leaves. Like so many perennials, yarrow doesn’t bloom until the second year. So as this spring came on I watched them closely as they seemed to grow inches overnight. I thought for a minute my daughter might be born before the yarrow bloomed, but I soon realized they’d be here before the end of May. I even started to divide a few, adding them to my growing butterfly gardens and lining parts of my walkway. By early this month the flower heads began to ascend from the center of the plant and for a few days before the blooms came forth the buds appeared almost covered in tiny, silky cloud like spiderwebs. Within a few days the fuzzy spiderwebs had given way to an explosion of white blooms, a simple, creamy color that picks up the hues of the cottony spring clouds overhead.
Mc House logo.
I’ve heard from many people who acquired yarrow during our McElroy House plant sale that those little seedlings are now growing by leaps and bounds in gardens ranging from Dardanelle to Little Rock. As our work at the McElroy House progressed we started to include a hand drawn version of the yarrow that Bryan Moats’s made for both our webpage and printed materials. It seemed a fitting symbol. Our work at the organization is largely about growing and supporting intergenerational connections and taking notice of the what grows here—our histories, our stories, our plants and mountains, the futures we want to create. After all, sometimes the most overlooked weeds are the strongest healers, and yarrow has a way of reminding us to pay attention to the things that grow heartily and come back year after year.
If you’re a beginning gardener yarrow is a great choice, especially if you’re looking to bring pollinators to your yard. You can also easily grow you’re own yarrow seeds which can be purchased from many seed companies and in local co-ops and plant nurseries. Pine Ridge nursery in London carries a local variety, as well. But there’s no need to go out and spend money on a patch of yarrow. Ask a friend to divide some of theirs and you’ll find they’ll quickly be enough to pass around the neighborhood. The great thing about yarrow is you’d be hard pressed to not get at least a few to take root. Forgiving and magical, the yarrow really wants to grow, making it a great starter plant for your budding wildflower garden. And it’ll come back year after year, capable of creating medicine, attracting butterflies, and growing despite the long summer droughts.
Do you grow yarrow in your garden? Do you make your own medicine or salves? I’d love to hear about it. If you want to know more about our work with the McElroy House: Organization for Cultural Resources and Community Action please check us out online at www.mclelroyhouse.wordpress.com or follow us on facebook at McElory House: Organization for Cultural Resources and Community Action.