Milky Oats
Avena sativa
wrap me in buttered clouds and pour me over tall grasses
sink into stone, gaze lazily at the wind
can you move slower? watch the trail of the slug’s slime.
yes, slower still.
the Moon speaks in milk. she reminds you of the quiet pockets behind your ears and ankles.
the beckonings of rest, and coatings of sap begging to drip down your spine.
there is no where to be. rub your fingertips across your lips
and lay down in the rustling strands, and listen as the crickets wake to the crimson setting sun.
Oat straw ancient one—
"Your golden fields
drift in waves of love
for she whose gifts are never ending,
always mending,
helping us to carry on.”
Diane Perazzo
“The Waking Moon” Arthur John Black
botanical identification
immature oat seed tops: hanging from upright stems harvestable after flowers and before oat seed hardens
Poaceae family: a part of the grass family with upright hollow stems that can grow to 4 feet tall.
in process of making fresh milky oat tincture with immature oat seed tops in PA
electric green - finished blending of fresh milky oats tincture
christine harvesting in washington state
her offerings
forms - milky oats - tincture / oat straw - tea
nervous system nourishment
parts used: immature oat seed tops
energetics: sweet, slightly moistening, neutral, mild
- deeply nourishing to an overstimulated nervous system - a lot of the times when we reach for more stimulants to keep us going, we really need to reach for foods and medicine that can restore our depletion.
- building up a burnt out individual “burning the candle at both ends” without being sedating
- used in formulas focused on nerve damage in the body
- oat straw used as tea is high in calcium and other essential minerals, drunk as a nutritive tonic
- oatmeal from the ripe grains is a nourishing food, and can be used topically to reduce skin irritation and itchiness.
“This is a crispy critter medicine”
Michael Moore
the time to harvest, when milky sap is released when the oat buds are pinched
“Oat Harvest” Carl Larsson
build me up buttercup
At Harvest
Earth travails,
Like a woman come to her time.
The swaying corn-haulms
In the heavy place of the field
Cry to be gathered.
Apples redden, and drop from their rods.
Our of their sheath of prickly leaves
The marrows creep, fat and white.
The blue pallor of ripeness
Comes on the fruit of the vine-branch.
Fecund and still fecund
After aeons of bearing:
Not old, not dry, not wearied out;
But fresh as when the unseen Right Hand
First moved on Bri,
And the candle of day was set,
And dew fell from the stars’ feet,
And cloths of greenness covered thee.
Let me kiss thy breasts:
I am thy son and lover.
Womb-fellow am I of the sunburnt oat,
Friendly gossip of the mearings.
(1916)
Joseph Campbell