The old secrets of Mayo's colourful hedgerows

COUNTRYFILE

THE hedge along the road is white with the flowers of blackthorn and reminds me of my Great Aunt Prudence.

She, too, would be dressed in lace and look similarly attractive from afar. There were differences though.

While that hedgerow blossom holds a faint scent of almonds, Auntie Pru smelled of rose water and coal tar soap.

Both, when you get too close, hold a threatening array of injurious thorns.

While Pru's own prickles shriveled and died many years ago, those on the blackthorn are as sharp as ever they were and still lie in wait for unwary fingers, or even a misplaced foot.

Nobody who has impaled the sole of the foot on a spring blackthorn will forget the pain. Surely, a porcupine or a hayfork would inflict far less damage.

Falling from barbed wire headlong into nettles could hardly be compared to wounds inflicted by those vicious thorns.

They are bad enough the whole year, but the warmth of spring brings toxic sap flooding through every branch, each twiggy outshoot, and into those stout needles. Just beware.

But do not allow the possibility of being wounded put you off attempting to gather a few of those flowers. Now, not every blackthorn flower has the same value.

The female flowers are as bitter and rancid as Great Aunt Prudence. The male flowers, on the other hand, have more to offer. We can easily tell which ones these are, for they hold fragments of bright yellow pollen which is both sweet and lightly astringent on the palate.

We shall have these flowers in abundance for two, maybe three weeks before they begin to fade. Gather a few while you can. Dry them and use them to make a tea.

They contain an antimicrobial and antifungal element called rutin, which acts to cleanse the skin. Just use them sparingly.

And then, when the flowers have all but fallen away, come the leaves, which make a valuable harvest in their own right.

Do be aware, though, that these leaves contain Prussic Acid, which over time breaks down to become Hydrogen Cyanide.

While small dose of this are not harmful, over-consumption is likely to produce undesirable side effects.

Perhaps the most popular historical use of blackthorn had nothing to do with any kind of healing, but rather the efficient infliction of injury on an opponent, either in law or outside of it.

And a stout blackthorn stick might have been be the most useful weapon readily found in old Ireland. Whatever this country does well, it grows blackthorn superbly.

The wood grows straight and exceedingly hard, with an abundance of thorny nodules along its length. When these are trimmed the stick is left with multiple rock-hard bumps.

A thick and heavy section of root might be left attached, surreptitiously as a handle for a walking stick, but really as a weighty cudgel capable of cracking the skull of a rival.

From the 17th to the 20th centuries faction fighting was a popular pasttime in many communities and while a variety of implements could be used to inflict damage, the blackthorn stick or shillelagh was by far the most common.

Markets and fairs often included bouts between individuals as well as families and other groups, and few social occasions were complete without someone getting hit.

So widely accepted was this form of violence it was viewed as a sport and fatal injuries were often not prosecuted.

Less serious issues such as breaks and bruises could be treated with a soothing balm made from the leaves and flowers of the same plant that caused the damage.

What would the formidable Great Aunt Prudence have made of all this? I know, for I saw the flash in her eye.