Here is a story that shares a little about the experiences of a wild afro-gallo-provencal who lives in the mountains of Provence and an encounter with a plant that changed her life.
When I moved to Provence in 1999, you might imagine that my mind, heart and eyes may have been filled with rose-tinted expectations of Lavender fields, romantic escapades to distilleries and all manner of amazing aromatic adventures! Lavender is after all the emblem of Provence, right?!
As much as I love Lavender, I would like to share here about the very first plant that truly spoke to me when I arrived in a tiny mountain village of circa 130 inhabitants (we have since risen to a dizzying 215 souls with a population density of 11 per square kilometers). For me, this bloom has become my personal emblem relating to the importance of a healthy community.
This plant taught me three important life lessons and took me on a path that directly leads to what I do today. But to get there, I need to tell you a bit of the back story. Please meet the humble and sensitive Poet’s narcissus.
Narcissus poeticus is endemic to our region. He lives in our damp meadowlands and in our local language he is sometimes referred to as the “Snow of May” because when he blooms, the green meadows turn white almost overnight. Whilst in the French language Narcissus is a ‘he’, in the Provencal language, narcissus is also known as ‘la dona’, so here in my village, the elders who have such a deep connection to this plant call our wild narcissus a ‘she’.
Elsewhere, he called “porillon”, referring to the leek-like form of his leaves and he has indeed been responsible for poisonings through misidentification whilst foraging as all parts of the plant are toxic.
In our area, we have multiple sayings, superstitions and fairytales concerning the powers of Narcissus and each year, we await his blooming.
One saying in Provencal is that when we see the Narcissus blooming, we know it is time to plant potatoes!
One common superstition is that you should never fall asleep with a bouquet of his blooms as if you do… you may never wake up! Indeed, the narcotic effects of Narcissus are well known – his heady aroma can indeed numb the mind. His aroma is extremely heady, green, hay like, intense and highly prized in perfumery.
Up until the early 1960’s, Narcissus blooms brought an important source of supplementary revenue to our villages thanks to its transformation into narcissus concrete and absolute in the nearby city of Grasse, fragrance capital of the world. During his short blooming period, people from our canton (a grouping of 9 villages) would head into the meadows and harvest the blooms by hand. It was hard work – wet feet, bent backs but there was community and camaraderie with shared food and banter. Courtiers would regularly come up from Grasse to negotiate the price per kilo. There are tales of the various ways our savvy mountain folk managed to increase the weight of some of the sacks they sold …
When the main laboratory for his extraction (Laboratoire Monique Remy) moved from Grasse to the Lozere region of France, the demand for fresh flowers in our region ended overnight. And so narcissus was left to bloom discreetly and alone in the meadows and people started to forget and overlook his value. Some of those damp wild flower meadows were put to other purposes, drained or enriched so that the fields could be used for pasture or agricultural purposes. And herein lay a problem: Narcissus thrives in a specific biotope. He flourishes at approximately 1000m in waterlogged soils rich in calcium but poor in other nutrients. If you change his biotope, you put his very existence in peril. And little by little, with the drainage and enrichment of the meadows, Narcissus started to regress.
Fast forward to the year 2001. One fine May day, I found myself lying in a meadow of wild narcissi (with rather a wet ‘derriere’ as Narcissus thrives only in very damp places). As I laid there, an intoxicating, heady perfume filled me and led me to a dreamy state. This fragrance was mysterious, captivating and a little unsettling and it propelled me to start researching Narcissus poeticus in our local region. I discovered that in the books of Ernest Guenther, our small community is has prize mention as a main source of Narcissus for fragrance houses.
I also learned of the tradition and stories about wild harvesting and how important Narcissus was to those who needed an extra seasonal boost to their income, selling to those wily courtiers from Grasse. I began interviewing and recording the memories of our village elders about their experiences harvesting this bloom for just 2 short weeks per year. I spent an unforgettable moment with the late Monique Remy herself to learn about its transformation into Narcissus absolute and concrete, leaving the meeting with precious samples and a heart full of inspiration and encouragement from a pioneering woman in the male-dominated world of perfumery.
That led to writing an article that was published in Perfumer and Flavorist over two editions. This then became an exhibition, a series of posters…and before I knew it, I was proposing that we could create a Narcissus Festival to honour our elders who, 40 years after the end of the harvesting tradition, were also declining in numbers.
So together with other villagers, we set about organizing our first Nature festival that would highlight ecology, biodiversity and attract people to see and acknowledge the snow of May in his splendour as well as discover and learn to respect the exceptional diversity of the flora of our region.
All members of our small community got involved. The local school set children the task of making poetry and drawings. Some got cooking, organizing meals and refreshments, others took charge of organizing a market with local artisans, finding live music, animations, exhibitions and activities for all ages. Some crocheted narcissus rosettes to raise funds, others took on the hard graft of setting up tents, transforming and preparing our small locality to welcome such a huge influx of people.
It took a village. Community
My role was to take care of the educational program, organizing nature hikes with local botanists, taking people to see narcissus in the meadows and building a top-notch lecture program with ethnobotanists, authors, experts in biodiversity and ecology.
The ‘Fete du Narcisse’ at La Martre ran for 13 wonderful years. Over one long weekend each year, our tiny village would erupt into a vibrant green hub celebrating nature with hundreds of people arriving from all corners of our region as well as from further afield. We had years when the sun shone, we had years where we were deluged by rain. We had years when the Mistral wind blew so hard that the tents flew away. No matter the weather, people still came in droves and each year, we all pulled together and the event was always a success.
It was through Narcissus and the ‘Fete du Narcisse’ that I discovered I had a gift – the ability to dream, conceive, organize and put into reality events that could positively strengthen communities, build bridges and bring people together in beautiful collaborations and celebrations in order to share, to learn, to interact in a way that positively contributes to the wider community.
Narcissus inspired me to go on to dream about hosting a conference that could strengthen and connect the international aromatherapy and herbal communities in a celebration of our shared passion – the love of healing plants. The botanica conference series that I now host and organise is directly linked to that heady May day when I was dreaming in a field of wild narcissi when my heart was captured by a plant.
Botanica is a beautiful event that stays true to its original intent, rooted in positivity and respect for our wonderful world of plant healing.
At the bottom of my property is a damp meadow who is now preserved by a charter agreed with the Regional Natural Park in which I live. So this morning I popped down there, and lay with Narcissus once again to thank him for all he has taught me. And yes… my ‘derriere’ once again got a soaking.
In closing, here are 4 things I have learned thanks to this humble plant.
Lesson one: It takes a village. We need our entire community to be involved with the intention of creating a safe and healthy environment for all. We need our elders, we need our young’uns and everyone in between to have an active role. Our herbal and aromatic communities need to work together without ego or division – we need to remain focused on upholding, showcasing and celebrating the very best of our professions, not the worst. A healthy vibrant community guarantees our future.
Lesson two: A healthy and stable biotope is essential. When the very foundations of our environment change, when the special soil in which our community grows becomes polluted or the delicate balance shifts, it is the entire community that suffers.
Lesson three: Maintaining a healthy biotope means respecting and honouring diversity and being vigilant to changes that could negatively affect our community. An unhealthy soil is perilous to our future. Perhaps we need to take a look at our current professional biotope and ask what needs to change to ensure our environment refinds its original balance.
Lesson four: Community voices are like a fragrant breeze that uplifts, inspires, validates, supports and positively ensures success for all. When I lay in that wet meadow (with a wet derriere) back in 2001, it was not a single narcissus bloom that spoke to me. It was a rich heady orchestra offered by a multitude of humble plants. That collective fragrant voice changed my life on that day.
