Wild Chamomile

A surprise around the fence lines. Who knew?

Chamomile

20 years ago, I put up an eleven-strand electric fence to keep the deer out of a 7-acre space. These acres were where I planted everything on my farm: apples, asparagus, muscadines, blackberries, a vegetable garden, and blueberries. The lowest strand is about a foot off the ground, and the highest is 11 feet up. Each year, as spring moves into summer, grasses and broadleaf weeds grow, and they begin interfering with the flow of electricity by grounding out the fence. To keep the fence working, I had the choice of physically weeding every couple of weeks to keep them from conducting the current from the fence or using a herbicide to keep them knocked down.

I chose to use glyphosate weed killer for weed control the fence line, and despite the commercials from seedy lawyers on TV, I used this chemistry because I believe it is the safest and most effective herbicide for general broadleaf and grass weed control and one with the shortest half-life in the environment. I spray the fence line 2 times during the summer, once in mid to late June and then again in August. It takes about 2 gallons of mix at 4 oz per gallon and 30 minutes of time. It’s much better than 2 hours behind the weed eater every other week!

After a year or two doing this, I noticed a lace-leafed plant emerge in the winter under the fence line. It was low-growing and did not interfere with the fence, and in time over the winter, these plants spread and produced a ground cover that eventually in the early Spring, bloomed and produced a white daisy-like flower. These plants thrived, the flowers were beautiful, and they died back in the summer heat or when I sprayed them again in June. So I let them grow and enjoyed them.

One day when I had time, I did some research and found them to be an annual weed, a wild variant of chamomile, that reseeded themselves from their flowers every year, the seeds laying dormant in the summer, only to sprout again in the fall and winter as the temperatures cooled, to reappear each spring. So they were not perennial but annuals, but with the reseeding and lack of competition due to the spraying, they returned every year.

It seems the herbicide wipes out other weedy competitors and lets the chamomile thrive, a harbinger of spring each year, creeping along a 2-foot strip under the wire. The white flowers emerge with a daisy look; white petals and a big yellow eye. They were beautiful, with small blooms, an easily picked handful of Spring. They do not last more than a couple of days in a small vase as a cut flower, and have only a little odor, but do brighten the kitchen counter.

Over the years, I have taken pictures of the beagles lying in patches of them that had spread beyond the fence line, and rolling in them, transporting me back to a book, and eventually to a TV series, from my childhood (1965-67): Please Don’t Eat the Daisies. The book was written by Jean Kerr, and is about a family living in upstate New York with a shaggy sheepdog, who was joyfully, always in tramping about in the flower garden and causing adventures. You can find more info on the book and TV series on Wikipedia. In these worrisome times, it is nice that a flower can remind one of a simpler, sweeter time. A memory triggered by a wildflower allowed to grow under a fence. Life remains full of unexpected connections.

The most noted use for Chamomile, albeit a different variety than the wild one I have here in the Piedmont of NC, is mostly known as a herbal medicine and as a nighttime tea. It is said to settle the stomach, bring calm, and help to induce sleep. The commercial products are made from German varieties of chamomile or Egyptian ones, and have a sweetish, almost saffron-like flavor. I like it.

So this Spring, I picked about a liter of the flowering heads of my wild chamomile, dried it for 48 hours at 95F in my dehydrator, and made a cup, side by side with a good brand of chamomile from Upton Tea Company. I found my local chamomile was not as strong or robust as either the German or Egyptian varieties, but it was pleasant enough, especially if I added some dried orange peel or a bit of dried apple or lemon grass for complexity.

I do think that I will splurge and plant a row of one of the commercial chamomile variants in the garden, in the Autumn this year, and see what happens next spring. If they bloom well enough, I will harvest for tea and also spread the flowering heads of the commercial plants under my fence line to see if I can get these varieties to start a cycle there. Should be fun.

Every year I learn something new and something that brings a new experiment for the next year. I was once told by my chemistry teacher in high school, on the first day of my first chemistry lab, “That we see, but do not observe”, but this observation occurred, thanks Mr. Foster, and will result in some new anticipation for 2026, here at the farm.

Such observations, that result in actions, are what keeps us old folks alive and well. I know so many who have lost their curiosity and ability to translate curiosity into action. Keen observation and improvement as a result, is one positive aspect of gardening and working out in nature. Soon as I will be 70 years old, and as an oldster, I have no excuse to be too busy to participate in the observation of small things. While I may be near the sunset of a long life, for the first time in a very busy 70 years, I can see and wonder at the small things selfishly, and relish the connections and the beauty of things that matter to no one else.

John Prine said on his Christmas album: “One year I got a divorce for Christmas”, and went on to say that he and a friend, or maybe even his brother, went out and bought an electric train set, put it together, and nailed it to his dining room table…”just because he could.” Freedom. Freedom to observe and to act! <grin>

No one else probably gives two shits about the cycle of growth of a wildflower chamomile under my electric deer fence. This little patch of chamomile is only there, because I have created a micro-environment by using weed control, that has allowed this chamomile to flourish. It is an example of unintended consequences from the actions of man on the environment, that in this case, has made my life a little more granular, my understanding of my little corner of NC a little better, and given me a reason to look forward to next spring and another experiment. The footprint of the change is small and will revert back quickly once I quit spraying. I can firmly connect the cause and effect.

I am not going to “eat the daisies”, but I do now know they make some good tea. I wonder who was the first person to make tea from chamomile and the first to discover one variety was better for tea than another? Maybe it was just a curious observation by an old man like me?