Todtnauberg by Paul Celan - a translation

Arnika, Augentrost, der Trunk aus dem Brunnen mit dem Sternwürfel drauf, in der Hütte, die in das Buch - wessen Namen nahms auf vor dem meinen?-, die in dies Buch geschriebene Zeile von einer Hoffnung, heute, auf eines Denkenden kommendes  Wort im Herzen, Waldwasen, uneingeebnet, Orchis und Orchis, einzeln, Krudes, später, im Fahren, deutlich, der uns fährt, der Mensch, der's mit anhört, die halb- beschrittenen Knüppel- pfade im Hochmoor, Feuchtes, viel. (Frankfurt, 1. August 1967) Arnica, eyebright, the drink from the well with the star-carved-die on it, into the Hut, into the book —whose name did it take before mine?— in this book, the penned line about a hope, today, for the thinker's coming word from the heart, forest peat-sward, uneven, orchid and orchid, singly, crudeness, after, while driving, explicit, he who drives us, the man, he also hears it, the half- trod log-paved trails on the high moor, cloy-clammy, very much.

English rendering © 2017 by Elisabeth T. Eliassen

This poem by Celan, this very difficult poem, is a poem about place, about person, about the potential for healing and about hope unrealized. The brilliance of this piece is its economy (69 words), with at least half the words being each so pregnant with meaning that reams of commentary have been written on them.

I undertake my own variation at great risk—many, many more informed people than I have attempted to render this poem in English. My attempt is particular to me, owing to the presence and symbolism of plant life, and the fact that this poem is an entry in Celan’s internal diary.

This poem is a single-line sketch of the 1967 meeting Celan had with the philosopher Martin Heidegger at his Todtnauberg cabin retreat called “der Hütte.”

For just the barest background, Celan and Heidegger were engaged in intellectual dialogue between the years 1952 and 1970; Celan had a great deal of admiration for the work of the philosopher, discovering similar views on “truth” and “language”, “time” and “being”, and how “language speaks.” But Celan also had a great deal of ambivalence toward Heidegger because of his affiliation, collaboration with Nazism, while Rector of the University of Freiburg, for which he seemed reluctant to express public – or private – regret. For Celan, the German-speaking Jewish Romanian survivor of a labor camp, whose parents were deported and died at an internment camp, this “fact” of Heidegger’s complicity with Nazism created an insurmountable gulf, despite mutual admiration and shared dialogue, despite Heidegger’s support of Celan’s work.

Shortly after giving a Der Spiegel interview, and following Paul Celan’s July 24, 1967 lecture at Freiburg, Martin Heidegger took Celan to see his cabin at Todtnauberg. Celan signed the famous guestbook, the two men engaged in a brief conversation, followed by a short walk and a drive back to town.

Brevity is key. The poem is all too brief; in fact, it seems rushed.

The botanical surroundings, at first, breathe hope into the encounter. Arnica Montana, that bright yellow asterid, dots the landscape surrounding the cabin; so, too, eyebright, another asterid—this one’s flower is shaped like two lips. Arnica, a balm for bruises; eyebright has been used for centuries to quell eyestrain, to bring a return to visual clarity, or to relieve inflammations of the upper respiratory system. The only caveat is that eyebright grows as a semi-parasitic plant in conjunction with various grasses and other plants.

There is a tapped spring, right alongside the cabin, a source of life and renewal. A cube, carved in the shape of a star, adorns the top of the post that houses the waterspout that feeds water into a long stone trough. The poem doesn’t really indicate a cube, however—the word choice indicates that carved block is like a die. So, chance may be at work; the meeting may not be by chance, but the visitor may be taking a gamble. Even so, the scene continues to seem benign and full of potential. The visitor takes a refreshing drink of the pure mountain water.

And then he is brought into the cabin and invited to sign the guestbook, this book that has taken many names before his. Do the names of other Jews reside in these pages? The visitor cannot help but associate this taking of the name and documenting of his name; perhaps in two ways—on one side, in the Book of Life, juxtaposed on another side against the meticulous records Nazis kept with regard to atrocities and thefts against the Jewish people.

The visitor recorded this line in the guest book:

“Ins Hüttenbuch, mit dem Blick auf den Brunnenstern, mit einer Hoffnung auf ein Kommendes Wort im Herzen. Am 25. Juli 1967 / Paul Celan.”

“In the book in the cottage, with a view of the well star, with the hope of a word to come in the heart. July 25, 1967, Paul Celan.” 

In whose heart was the hope of a word, at that moment, I wonder?

In the poem, clearly the word is desired by the visitor of the thinker, the philosopher. This is a kind of pilgrimage.

But the poem does not even hint at discussion. The time in the hut seems but no time at all, and they are back outdoors, walking briefly over the damp ground, one orchid beside one orchid. The mountain orchid has been used medicinally for centuries in Europe to ease gastro-intestinal complaints; the Chinese use orchid medicine to improve eyesight and boost the immune system. More to the point, in this poem, the plants consist of a double bulb, very like testicles in shape; one German word for orchid is Knabenkraut (boy’s weed). Celan refers to orchids in other poems. I am not sure if Celan would have been aware of Zen symbolism of orchid as “poet” and “thinker”, but I will gamble on that. The poet walks alongside the thinker, but they are not joined as brothers; instead, they are just as contained and separate as they were when they arrived at this locus. Further, the ground is uneven, so they are not on the same footing, at the same level.

The pilgrimage fails to ford the chasm, despite the appearance of benignity and healing.

The visit further dispels any notion that such a transcendence of their differences can take place, with unfortunate words being uttered during the car ride back to town. It is unclear who uttered the words, but the visitor claims the driver to be a witness who can verify, leaving the implication towards the thinker, speaking without thinking, perhaps.

As they drive back to town, the occupants of the car pass by and through wooded areas, partially logged, with log covered foot trails, perhaps owing to the moistness of the landscape. The living pines stick up straight, the logs lining the path are likewise straight, like cudgels, in the soggy, peaty ground, dispelling the artifice of the semiotic presence of the benign, the healing, and the hopeful. Now, it seems as if the ground is swollen with rot; this meeting is no longer an idyll with an idol. The idol has proved himself not to be worthy – or, the pilgrim has not brought forth the purpose of his quest.

While others tend to translating “Wort im Herzen” into English more literally as “word in heart,” I chose “word from the heart” because I understand the point of the meeting to be a pilgrimage, in search of a means by which to transcend the gulf of differences into brotherhood, if the thinker could but offer a heartfelt word of some kind. Instead, the meeting seemed perfunctory, and whatever discussion exchanged is either insubstantial (at the cabin) or “crude” and “explicitly so” on the way back, in the car.

The encounter that inspired this poem did not end well; but the two men continued to communicate with one another, even if the communications were somewhat strained, until the end of Celan’s life.

//

Despite this pessimistic reading (really the only choice available), I suggest that implicit in the poem is the endless potential for healing, if the all important (magical?) word will be spoken. The potential for the positive and the healing is always alive, always rich, always supported. The fact that healing and transcendence were not experienced here was a matter of choice, both on the part of the thinker and on the part of the poet. Place was not the primary factor, neither was the timing. Overloaded expectations may have been a factor, as well as courage or lack thereof, toward articulating a question. Certainly, an inner struggle and perhaps a crisis of identity factored into this outcome.

Perhaps I chose to explore this poem on this day is to suggest that brother/sisterhood is always a worthy goal, and always possible – if one can bridge the chasms of ethnicity, class, race, religion, criminal record, victimhood, guilt, shyness… loneliness. And this may be at some cost, but it should never be at the cost of personhood and self-value/self-respect.

Pristine water still wells from the spring; the arnica and eyebright, the orchids still grow and bloom; the turf and the trees provide fuel and shelter. We humans pass through this land of potential, and don’t often enough use the good of what is provided. We opt instead to avoid, or worse utter the unmindful word, and tend toward the destruction of what is good.

My thought and prayer for you, for me, for all of us this day: Positive potential greets you, everyday; don’t be afraid to engage it. Don't let unrealized hope close the book on your quest.

Song IX from Nine Songs: The Mountain Spirit - a translation

By Qu Yuan[i]

There, in the cleft of the mountain[ii],
see the Spirit[iii], arrayed in wild fig[iv] and dodder vine[v],
beaming her enchanting gaze and lovely smile.
“Don’t you find me beautiful?”
Pulled by a red leopard[vi], followed by wild cats,
her magnolia[vii] chariot draped with olive branches[viii],
she is arrayed in orchids[ix] belted with wild ginger[x].
“My love left me on the mountain to gather herbs.
Living deep in a bamboo[xi] grove, we never see the sky.
The way up the mountain was long and difficult;
it is too late to return.”
There, at her summit throne,
she stands, at her feet a wreath of clouds[xii].
As the sun sets, light likewise retires;
the east wind blows up, spreading a holy rain.
“I awaited the return of my love until it was too late to descend.
Now that winter is coming, what shall bloom to clothe me?
I gather lingzhi[xiii] from the mountainside,
where vines grow in a tangle over tumbled boulders.
Left by my inconstant lover, desolation bars my return home.
Though you did not come back, perhaps you gave me a thought.”
She, Mountain Spirit, fragrant with pollia[xiv] flowers,
drinks from a stone-basin spring[xv], shaded by pine and fir.
“You thought of me, my love, but you hesitated.”
Thunder drums, “tian tian”, rain darkens.
Monkeys cry, “jiu jiu”, and wild cats howl all night.
Winds whistle, “sa sa”, the trees moan “xiao xiao.”
“Longing for you, lost love, I sorrow and suffer.”

Translation © 2017 by Elisabeth T. Eliassen

Reading through an enormous number of translations of this poem, I was struck by two primary aspects, each of which seemed to leap out at me, but to be overlooked by most translators rendering the text into English: The gender of the Mountain Spirit and the presence of herbal/plant medicines that indicate, among other things, the passage of time within the overarching theme of abandonment.

As audacious as it will seem to some, I have undertaken to offer yet another rendering, with a very short commentary and notes. At the outset, I must stress that my intent is to offer more context for the English language reader; I don’t expect that my effort has necessarily resulted in beautiful poetry.

The impression I have is that the Mountain Spirit is most definitely a woman, abandoned by her lover in the wilderness of the mountain. Unfamiliar with the terrain, she nevertheless becomes a part of it, and what plant knowledge she brought with her sustains and clothes her throughout the year. She is a shaman, and a powerful one. Many of the plants she uses support longevity and virility. While this is a poem about alienation and separation, the obvious passage of time does not age this soul. She follows the seasons, yet is timeless. She rises to the summit, and is cut off from the cares of the world below. She may still bemoan the loss of her love, and nature seems to join in her emotions. Does she collude with the mountain to bring on a storm to match her mood?

I leave the transliterated Chinese syllables for the sounds. There are many doubled sounds throughout this poem, lending to the music of it. 

See my notes, below, for information about the medicinal properties of the plants mentioned in the poem.

I owe a debt of gratitude to the 2008 annotated translation of this poem by Feng Xin-ming in a simplified Chinese script version with annotations. I must  have dug around and found more than fifteen renderings of this poem, each with a slightly different perspective. None explored or referred to the medicinal aspect of the plant life.

---

[i] Qu Yuan was a poet of the Warring States Period (467 BC - 221 BC) Qu Yuan is remembered as a patriotic poet, statesman, diplomat and reformer in ancient China. The traditional Dragon Boat Festival, held on the fifth day of the fifth lunar month commemorates his death by suicide. (As an aside, I happen to live in an island community that takes a great deal of interest in the Dragon Boat Festival.)  

[ii] Mountains are venerated in China, each has a resident god. In ancient times, it was believed the spirits of the dead lived in the mountains, and young girls were “married” to the mountain. Mountains create weather.

[iii] The gender of the Mountain Spirit is ambiguous. There is a general tendency, when translating this piece into English, toward conforming the text to either a Confucian or a shamanistic interpretation/convention. In either case, the emphasis is on creating a duality, yin/yang, between a god and goddess (perhaps mountain and river) or shaman and human. Most of the translations I have seen vary the gender of the speaker throughout the poem between male and female, artificially suggesting a conversation between two individuals. I have opted to have the reader be a participant-as-observer in the story the author tells; as such, I have the entity, to which I assign female gender, direct the spoken words to the reader. This may solve the ambiguity, while preserving the sense that there is interaction between two individuals. Not being a proper scholar of Asian poetry, I own the possibility that my approach may be problematical, if not downright incorrect.

[iv] 薜荔 bi` li`: ficus pumilis, a member of the fig family. Also known as creeping fig, throughout Asia, the fruit and leaves are galactagogue and tonic; they are used in cases of impotence, lumbago, rheumatism and anemia.

[v] 女萝 nv' luo': custcuta chinensis, the twining dodder herb. It is commonly used as an anti-aging agent, anti-inflammatory, pain reliever, and aphrodisiac.

[vi] Leopards are rare and elusive, so their appearance and disappearance is associated with changing seasons. In China, whereas lions are associated with the sun, leopards are associated with the moon.

[vii] 辛夷 xin­ yi': magnolia liliflora, the flowering magnolia shrub.  The flowers and unopened flower buds are analgesic, anodyne, carminative, febrifuge, sedative and tonic. The main effect of this herb is to constrict blood vessels in the nasal passages; it is most often taken internally to treat sinusitis, allergic rhinitis and catarrh. The flowers are harvested in the Spring, and can be used fresh or dried.

[viii] 桂 gui`: this is 桂花 gui` hua­ , osmanthus fragrans, the miniature olive shrub. In traditional Chinese medicine, osmanthus tea has been used to treat irregular menstruation. The blossoms are associated with the Chinese Mid-Autumn Festival. Osmanthus used as a flavor for wine, confections and teas, is symbolic of reunions.

[ix] 石兰 shi' lan': cymbidium virescens, an orchid.  Blooming in the Spring, this orchid is used in Korean folk medicine to stop bleeding and promote urination, as well as for skin issues, such as insect bites.

[x] 杜衡 du` heng': asarum forbesii, a pungent variety of wild ginger that grows in moist, shady forests and valleys at elevations below 3000 feet. In traditional Chinese medicine to relieve pain, induce fever, promote sweating, as a diuretic, and to lower blood pressure. Prolonged use of the plant gives the body a fragrant aroma.

[xi] In China, bamboo is symbolic of the summer season, simplicity, humility, flexibility, and integrity, equanimity. Bamboo is used in Chinese medicine to speed healing and reduce infections. Bamboo is also used for divination.

[xii] Clouds are a union of yin and yang, mean good fortune, suggest intercourse, and also hint at wu-shamanism.

[xiii] It is unclear whether this is “Three-Flowers” or “Thrice-Blooming” herb. The former does not suggest any reference that I can find, but various texts have suggested the latter. If that is the case, “Thrice-Blooming” is a fungus zhi, perhaps lingzhi or “spirit herb”, better known in the West as Reishi mushroom, revered in ancient China as a magic herb. I cannot verify this, but merely offer the possibility. This fungus is symbolic of longevity and immortality, and the name is mentioned in poems from the earlier Han and Wei periods. The character for ling is made of ideographs for rain, shaman, and praying, and zi speaks to its spiritual potency, and that it is used to prepare elixirs.

[xiv] 杜若 du` ruo`: pollia japonica, a herbaceous plant with longish leaves and white flowers. The rhizome of pollia japonica is used to influence lung, liver, kidney and bladder function, is sedative and carminative, and is used to treat colds and vertigo.

[xv] Springs are yin semantically connected to the concept “origin,” and associated with the moon and night. Water, in general, presents a paradox: One of the most powerful of nature’s forces, it is soft and yielding. Hence, the aphorism in Tao te Ching, “Weak overcomes strong; soft overcomes hard.”

Colds and Flu, Just Chase Them Away With Elder Berries and Flowers

Hard to avoid this fact: the cold and flu season is indeed hard upon us. I have been hearing from many colleagues and friends who have been suffering from a seemingly endless stream of illness. One bug can be replaced by another, which might be slightly different, but equally as annoying as the previous one. Busy lives are caught in a maelstrom of sneezing, coughing and energy lack.

I have a simple refrain: Elder Berries, Elder Flowers; TEA, GLORIOUS TEA!

If all you have in your herbal pharmacopeia is Elder (sambucus nigra), I tell you, you cannot go far wrong with regard to treating your colds, flus and catarrhal inflammations of the respiratory tract. Add white willow for analgesic and yarrow to help with fevers, and you are well on your way to a return of good health. We, in my family, have all fought against colds in recent weeks, and have been able to avoid serious down-time because of drinking elderberry tea.

But let me get back to the basics about Elder.

Parts that can be used are: bark, flowers, berries and leaves. All you need, really, is a sack of dried berries and or flowers. Either or both can be obtained from your local health food store.

The flowers contain flavonoids: rutin, isquercitrine and kamperol, hydrocyanic glycoside sambunigrine, tannins and essential oil. The berries contain invert sugar, fruit acids, tannins, Vitamins C and P, and traces of essential oil.

The actions of the flowers are these: diaphoretic, anticatarrhal, pectoral. The actions of the berries are: diaphoretic, diuretic, laxative.

What that means is your system will get a good flushing. Out with the yucky, in with wellness!

I use the flowers in infusion. A cup of boiling water over 2 teaspoons of flowers. Infuse for 10 minutes. Drink hot three times a day.

The berries make a great tea, also. I take 2 Tablespoons of dried berries, place them in a tied muslin teabag and boil them in a full pan of water for 5 to 7 minutes. The resulting liquid is a lovely purple color.  I let this cool and squeeze the bag of berries to get the most out of them, then fill the pan with water and do it again on the same berries. The liquid can be stored in the fridge, and you can pour a cup to warm in the microwave.

To either tea, you may add honey to taste; but they can both be drunk without sweetener. Children will not be turned off by your medicine tea, especially if it has honey (no honey for infants, though!!!!).

I have made my own Elderberry cough syrup. It is so tasty, it can be poured over ice cream, for a special treat! And kids will not gag; they'll want to have it. Not to mention, it is less expensive than the horrid concoctions you can obtain at the local pharmacy.

Elderberry Cough Syrup

•              2/3 cup dried black elderberries

•              3.5 cups of water

•              2 Tbl fresh or dried ginger root

•              2 Tbl dried licorice root

•              1 tsp cinnamon powder or half a cinnamon stick

•              1/2 tsp cloves or clove powder

•              1 cup honey

•              [1 tsp each optional herbs such as thyme, coltsfoot, sage, peppermint, chamomile, rosemary, yarrow, elderflower, eucalyptus and red clover tops, all good choices to pick from. Hot pepper, garlic and onion juice can also be introduced—but you will want to experiment!]

1. Pour water into saucepan and add elderberries, ginger, cinnamon and cloves. I put the berries into a reusable muslin teabag, tied with a bow.

2. Bring the contents of the pan to a boil. Cover and reduce to a simmer for about 45 minutes to an hour until the liquid has reduced by almost half.

3. [Optional] in the last 5 to 10 minutes, you can add a teaball with additional herbs to infuse into the liquid. Thyme, coltsfoot and sage are good throat soothers; peppermint and chamomile are good calm agents. You can also use garlic and hot peppers to bring warmth to the syrup, which also can soothe the throat. Eucalyptus and red clover tops are natural decongestants. Elderflowers, rosemary and yarrow are good, as well.

4. Remove from heat and let cool enough to be handled. [Leave in the tea ball with additional herbs, if you added them; they can continue infusing the liquid.] I fish out the berry bag and put that into a soup bowl to cool off. Once the berry bag is sufficiently cooled, you need to squeeze the gooey juice out of the plumped up berries into the pan with the rest of the liquid.

5. If you need to, strain liquid into a mixing bowl, to separate out any loose contents like whole cloves and roots. [Pull out the tea ball.]

6. Add the honey and stir or lightly whisk. If the resulting consistency is not quite syrupy, add a bit more honey. (The trick to this is reducing the elderberry liquid enough in step 2.)

7. Funnel the mixture into a large glass jar or a recycled bottle with a lid. (I had saved a lovely green olive oil bottle with a screw cap.)

You can refrigerate this mixture for 2 months or so. It can be used as topping for desserts, a dash in tangy salad dressings, an additive in hot toddies and warm teas, or stirred into fruit juice.

As always, you know I am a country cook and no doctor. This is just a soothing recipe, for your enjoyment and wellbeing!

Meanwhile, if you have been among the many brought down by illness, I hope you will feel better SOON!

Brewing: My Continuing Adventures in Herbalism

Mugwort, plantain which has opened from the east, lamb's cress, attorlothe [possibly black nightshade], chamomile, nettle, wood sour apple, chervil and fennel, old soap; work the herbs into powder, mix with the soap and the apple's juice. Make a paste of water and of ash; take the fennel, boil in the paste and warm it with the mixture when he puts on the salve, and before and after. Sing that charm on each of the herbs thrice before he prepares them, and on the apple also, and sing into the mouth of the man and both the ears and on the wound that same charm before he puts on the salve.

Believe it or not, this is an ancient recipe for an herbal healing salve, including the prescribed method of treatment. It appears at the very end of a long poem in Old English, known as the Nine Herbs Charm. In this poetic incantation, both Woden and Christ are mentioned, linking the pagan world to the Christianized. The incantations are supposed to be made three times respectively over each of the nine herbs, as they are added into the recipe, in order to maximize the potency of the medicine.

I mention this by way of introduction to my topic for today.  I have become something of an amateur herbalist in recent years, and I find herb lore very interesting—although, I have to say that the lore is not more interesting than what herbs can actually do when you use them.

The reason I got deeper into this whole herb thing is because I love to cook. At some point,  I received the handsome gift of a bread machine. I loved that machine. I wore it out, and had to get a second one. I now bake nearly all the bread my family eats. The kids particularly love the rosemary French bread that I make. One week, I decided to make that and also make a loaf of pumpernickel. If it had not been for this double loaf adventure, I would never have noticed something interesting about rosemary.

The loaves had been made in the same day, but the pumpernickel was made after the rosemary French bread. The loaves are stored in zip-locked plastic bags. A few days later, the remaining pumpernickel started to develop mold. The rosemary French bread did not develop mold. And I have never experienced this particular loaf to do so, but I just supposed that was because we were consuming the bread so fast.

I don’t think that is the reason, however; I think I discovered by experience that rosemary acts as a natural preservative in this situation. When I looked in my various books on herbs, I didn’t find this specific information, although rosemary is listed in some volumes as being an antioxidant and, in others, as having antibacterial properties.

This led me to try brewing the dried herb as an infusion, just to satisfy a curiosity I had. The taste was unexpectedly lovely!

I then added a few more ingredients to the rosemary and re-brewed: anise seed, elder flowers, rosehips, mullein, hyssop and peppermint. I created this seemingly peculiar mixture because my son has a yucky cough. I had an intuition, based on previous experience with these other herbs, that this mixture would be helpful. Several days later, he was still coughing, but without as much of the yuck part; he is not coughing up nearly as much phlegm. And, the infusion has a delicate flavor, is not at all horrid—so a child will drink it willingly, particularly if a bit of honey is added.

I pass this story on to you because it is a good personal account. Please note that I do not set myself up to advise you on what herbs are best for you to use—this is something you must discover on your own. Herbal usage is, I continue to discover, very personal and very subtle. Some herbs that are indicated for certain conditions just simply do not work for everyone. I discovered years ago that Echinacea does not work for me, though I can derive similar benefits from Holy Basil.

Experimentation with common herbs is wholeheartedly advised, as long as good sense is also exercised; herbs that you know to be dangerous probably should not enter your home, much less your body. A general safety rule is this: if it is something you would cook with and eat in food, then by all means, make use of it in other ways than in cookery. 

The only caution I would offer is that there is a lot of misinformation and conflicting information available on the internet; in the rush for content to populate every single page hawking some sort of product or service, the so-called noosphere is filled with shameless duplications of the same articles all over the place (authored originally by whom, one wonders?), and they do not necessarily inform you in a useful way or accurate way.


If you want to get into herbs, you need to do three things: (1) get into your garden; (2) consult books on herbs (whatever you have on hand, or references at the library); and (3) brew. I keep a handy notebook and make notations of the various herbs I have used, and if they have been combined with other herbs, what circumstance that combination was used for, and what the results were.


I am sitting here with a warm cup of something good. How about you?

The Infusions of an Amateur Herbalist

These formulas have been kitchen and illness tested by me personally. You can fine-tune them for yourself.


For Sinus Congestion

FENUGREEK
Fresh GINGER (grated)
GINSENG
PEPPERMINT
TULSI (also known as HOLY BASIL)
Lemon juice

or

For Bronchial Distress

ANISE Seed
ELDER flower
HYSSOP
MULLEIN

1. Add the herbs in equal parts to a large infusion ball or reusable teabag and toss it all into your teapot, along with the non-herb ingredients, if any.
2. Boil up some water and pour it on in.
3. Let steep for 5-10 minutes.

[Optional, add honey to the bottom of your mug (my favorite is Bio-Active Manuka* Honey)]

Pour yourself a big dose, and feel better soon.

* Manuka is better known to us as Tea tree (Leptospermum scoparium), a flowering bush from New Zealand and South East Australia. Honey containing Manuka flower pollen has antibacterial and antifungal properties. Most good health food stores will have some available.

You know I am not a doctor, so any information I have to offer is not a prescription, but a soothing recipe.