When I hike with my hounds in late Spring, the air is filled with the sweet, slightly fetid scent of hawthorn blossom, also known as “May”. Masses of creamy white flowers with light pink stamens froth from the hedgerows, their simple beauty both delicate and celebratory. Later in the year, those same hedges are hung with deep red fruit, the “haws”, bright against the soft greys and greens of autumn. It is hard not to notice Hawthorn’s rhythmicity: a cyclical procession from bud to blossom, from flower to fruit and then back again the next year. And each phase brings with it an invitation to consider rhythm and balance.
I find something deeply comforting about Hawthorn’s steady presence in the landscape. Season after season, it marks the turning of the year: blossom heralding spring’s climax, fruit accompanying autumn’s harvest, thorns guarding the quiet of winter.
Hawthorn, Crataegus monogyna, in same family of rose, is one of the most beloved and long revered of Europe’s native trees and grows in abundance here in the mountains. Hawthorn has long been associated with the heart, not only in a metaphorical sense but also in a medicinal way. Hawthorn’s medicines have long been used to gently support circulation, protect and strengthen cardiac function, and promote a healthy heart rhythm.
But hawthorn is more than just a cardiovascular ally. It is also a teacher of cycles, of timing, of the need to move in harmony with the natural world and be in tune with the subtle rhythms of our own and our patients’ lives.
As the great metronome of the body, the heart beats in complex oscillations – dynamic, adaptive and sensitive. It adapts, speeds and slows in response to emotion, breath, posture, temperature and thought. It is an organ that functions through rhythmicity and one whose rhythms profoundly shape our health. But rhythmicity is not only a cardiac phenomenon. It is a fundamental property of life. Circadian rhythms shape sleep and metabolism; hormonal rhythms regulate fertility and mood; seasonal rhythms influence immunity, growth, and rest. When we lose touch with these core patterns of balance, when we live out of step with the cycles that shape our very biology, dis-ease often follows.
To me, working with plants like Hawthorn is an act of re-alignment. It asks me to attend to rhythm: the rhythm of the seasons, of the patient’s journey, of their dis-ease, and of the remedy itself. In this regard, Hawthorn is a great teacher.
Hawthorn offers us different gifts at different stages of the year, each suited to a subtle yet different need, demanding that we tune in and listen to the heart of what the patient requires. In the Spring, Hawthorn’s creamy-white flowers that appear around Beltane marks the shift from spring to summer. Her blossoms and leaves, light and aromatic, have a gently expansive, opening quality. Remedies at this time are often used for microcirculatory support, vasodilation, and the gentle balancing of cardiovascular tone, especially during periods of stress. They are perfect when we want to “open” the heart – physically, emotionally, or spiritually and when we need to reduce spasm and calm an overactive mind before bed after a fraught day.
By autumn, Hawthorn’s energy has deepened and become concentrated into its ruby red edible haws. Thanks to components including oligomeric procyanidins and anthocyanins, the berries are antioxidant, protective and strengthening. When there is fatigue, oxidative stress, reduced contractile strength, or chronic cardiovascular strain, a combination of all active plant parts may be the best solution.
Then in deep winter, hawthorn stands quiet and bare, a reminder that rest is another important part of the therapeutic rhythm.
Long before pharmacognosy identified Hawthorn’s active components like flavonoids and procyanidins, this tree was acknowledged as sacred and protective and the haws have been long been used as a foraged functional food. In Celtic and Druidic traditions, hawthorn is one of the three great magical trees – oak, ash, and thorn – protectors of the threshold between worlds. To cut a solitary Hawthorn was considered imprudent, as the tree houses the Faeries – guardians of the Underworld.
For this very reason, the large, solitary Hawthorn that stands in front of our house has never been harvested for medicine or interfered with in any way. There are several such “Faery trees” in our locality. They stand out from all the other Hawthorns that populate our hedges and forests.
To engage with Hawthorn as medicine is therefore to quietly step into an ancient relationship. Tradition gave Hawthorn its place as a safe, tried and trusted cardiac remedy, and modern research continues to support and refine that view. Thanks to its diverse array of active components, the cardiovascular actions of Craetagus species are multifaceted and continue to be debated to this day. Research exists on influencing myocardial contractility, vascular tone, blood pressure regulation, oxidative stress, and arrhythmia dynamics. And there is more – its protective effects go well beyond the heart, with research into its anti-diabetic and nervous system regulating effects.
Working with Hawthorn invites us to attune ourselves, not only to our patient’s needs but also to the larger rhythms that hold us all. It reminds us that healing is rarely about dramatic intervention. More often, it is about finding ways to gently restore rhythm.
