Herb Pharm
As Featured @ Herb Pharm Newsletter
Among the many interns that participate in the Herb Pharm Herbaculture Program, there seems to be a pervasive feeling: This is exactly where I'm supposed to be right now. Even in the midst of weeding an endless field of Echinacea, there is no other place that calls your presence as passionately. Like some kind of vortex or gravitational force, it pulls people in from all corners and crevasses of the earth and plops them down in a small, small town in the middle of nowhere Oregon.
Once you get there, you realize the gravitational pull began long ago. For me, I can't say when it began, or if it even had a beginning. However, I can attest to filling out that internship application and feeling a sense of familiarity already. It felt so right, so perfect, so fantastical— there's no way it would come true. The Pharm seemed like a fairytale land that only inducted fairies were allowed to enter. Somehow, even without an official induction, I was accepted.
When I pulled up to the Herb Pharm intern house, I felt like I was arriving at home. Two big pots of garbanzo beans and brown rice were simmering on the stove, infusing the house with warm and welcoming smells. Like so many interns before me and so many that will come after, I regarded the structure that would provide me shelter for the next two months.
That grand house, that country kitchen, the bedrooms and breakfast nook- even the unique shower lamp- are present in the memories of thousands of graduates. But it's not so much the house itself or the infamous shower lamp; it's the magic infused within them.
Even more so, it's the land… It's the soil that thousands of hands have touched and hundreds of thousands of plants have grown within. It’s the rows of medicine that gracefully exhibit growth and change and the undeniable, omnipresent process of life and death.
It’s the trust that Ed and Sara have in the hands of the interns. It's the attention to detail that Matt demonstrates as he walks through the fields instead of driving. It’s Ty's jokes that keep you smiling and Mark’s reflections that keep you musing. It’s Andy's consistently beautiful hair.
The magic slowly seeped into me. Day-by-day, row-by-row, field-by-field, flower-by-flower. It filled my days and infiltrated my dreams. Like the scent of a forest floor cooking beneath the Siskiyou sun— that sweet, citrus maple syrup smell that saturates each molecule of air between soil and sky.
Last night I sat with a friend cradled within the crest of two magnetic mountains. We were speechless as the sun stole away color, while the moon donated depth. The dirt beneath my feet disappeared. Contours of ridge lines were sculpted below. A spectrum of solar rays raked the sky.
We watched the world change and not one single man-made light protested. We were the only ones to witness the magic. "This happens every night!" She exclaimed. That's how I feel about magic. It happens in every moment, no matter where we are or what we're doing. And we can see it if we want. We can be a part of it if we want. We can even create it.
