21ST CENTURY GARDENING
During World War One, the scarecrows of Germany began to disappear from fields. It wasn't that they had gone for a wander, it was because there was a serious shortage of clothing. The British Navy had introduced a blockade of European ports to starve Germany and Austria-Hungary of goods and raw materials, including cotton, so the scarecrows' garments had become too valuable to be left for the birds.
In 1916, the German clothing industry was urgently placed under state control, and the private trade of second-hand garments was forbidden. "An appeal was made to the patriotism of German women to maintain a simplicity of dress 'more in keeping with the seriousness of the times'," noted a trade report written in 1918 for the US Department of Commerce. The authorities rationed stockings to two pairs per person every three months, introduced a rule on maximum dress-length, and requisitioned old blankets, table-cloths and handkerchiefs for recycling – even the linen on which old maps were printed.
It became clear that an alternative to cotton-based textiles was needed, not least to supply the armed forces in the trenches. Various other materials were explored, such as mungo (recycled wool), shoddy (a byproduct of wool processing), flax, and even paper. But one researcher based in Vienna, Gottfried Richter, had a suggestion for something better. He had been working on it for 15 years, and reckoned it could solve Germany and Austria-Hungary's clothing woes. It was a plant that, with highly fibrous stems, could be woven into thread, matching other materials like flax for quality, and already growing widely and voraciously in the forests and meadows of Central and Eastern Europe.
The wonder plant, according to Richter, was the common stinging nettle.
In 1916, the German clothing industry was urgently placed under state control, and the private trade of second-hand garments was forbidden. "An appeal was made to the patriotism of German women to maintain a simplicity of dress 'more in keeping with the seriousness of the times'," noted a trade report written in 1918 for the US Department of Commerce. The authorities rationed stockings to two pairs per person every three months, introduced a rule on maximum dress-length, and requisitioned old blankets, table-cloths and handkerchiefs for recycling – even the linen on which old maps were printed.
It became clear that an alternative to cotton-based textiles was needed, not least to supply the armed forces in the trenches. Various other materials were explored, such as mungo (recycled wool), shoddy (a byproduct of wool processing), flax, and even paper. But one researcher based in Vienna, Gottfried Richter, had a suggestion for something better. He had been working on it for 15 years, and reckoned it could solve Germany and Austria-Hungary's clothing woes. It was a plant that, with highly fibrous stems, could be woven into thread, matching other materials like flax for quality, and already growing widely and voraciously in the forests and meadows of Central and Eastern Europe.
The wonder plant, according to Richter, was the common stinging nettle.
The 'hairs' of a stinging nettle are hollow to allow irritating chemicals to flow through them and into their victim's skin – they act like tiny needles
(Credit: Alamy)
Following Richter's advice, the authorities invested millions of marks to plant the weed along the Danube, and nettle-based yarns began to be made. "Nettle fibre is considered the best substitute for cotton that Germany has found. It is now being produced on a large scale for military use," the authors of the US Department of Commerce report concluded.
Nettles, with their nasty stings, may not sound very luxurious to wear, but fortunately their defensive needles are neutralised during manufacture. Our ancestors also realised this: its use as a textile goes back centuries. In more recent decades, the German fashion designer Gesine Jost has used nettles to make tops, coats and skirts, drawn to the fact that the plant needs less pesticide and water to grow compared with cotton. And its fibres have even been spun to make into a bikini as an experiment in sustainable materials ("It's not terribly comfortable when it's next to your skin… it is a slightly hairy fibre," said the swimwear's creator, Alex Dear of De Montfort University, at the time.)
(Credit: Getty Images)
But clothing is far from the only use for the plant: there are many more applications, from treating aching bones to keeping awake at night. Anyone who has touched the nettle's tiny needles or had to remove it from their gardens might struggle to love such an annoyingly painful weed, but perhaps the nettle deserves more admiration. In past years, environmentalists and gardeners have marked this week in May as "Be Nice to Nettles" week. Could it be time to embrace the countryside's most annoying stinger?
Variants of the Urtica plant, with its jagged leaves and fibrous stems, can be found naturally across the world, growing in moist, shady places like forests, near rivers or in ditches alongside roads. Not all of them sting, but the most common species U. dioca, and the dwarf version U. urens, can be painful if you brush your hand across them.
These nettles have tiny hairs, called trichomes, that are essentially little hypodermic needles waiting to inject their contents into your skin. Inside them is a fluid containing formic acid, histamine, acetylcholine and serotonin. It's why the word nettle derives from the Anglo-Saxon word "noedl" (needle) and its scientific name Urtica means "to burn".
However it is, in principle, possible to avoid the sting with a firm grip – as the idiom "grasp the nettle" advises – though it's best not to try this at home. And fortunately when the plant is cooked, dried or processed, the trichomes are destroyed. (Incidentally, dock leaves – Rumex obtusifolius – which some say can mitigate a sting's pain, are more likely placebos.)
Given the nettle's ubiquity and utility, people have collected and cultivated the plant for centuries. Archaeological digs in the UK show that as far back as the Bronze Age, people used a subspecies of the plant to make their clothing, realising its easily accessible stems could make for soft, strong textiles.
Over the centuries, the nettle has been entwined with folklore and stories. In Hans Christian Anderson's tale The Wild Swans, a princess must silently – and painfully – knit 11 nettle shirts to save 11 of her brothers, who have been turned into swans by their evil stepmother.
Nettles are also associated with Norse legend – specifically stories of Thor, and his companion Loki, the latter of whom supposedly invented a fishing net made from nettle yarn to catch salmon. The plant, however, has yet to appear in a storyline in the Marvel Cinematic Universe franchise.
But clothing is far from the only use for the plant: there are many more applications, from treating aching bones to keeping awake at night. Anyone who has touched the nettle's tiny needles or had to remove it from their gardens might struggle to love such an annoyingly painful weed, but perhaps the nettle deserves more admiration. In past years, environmentalists and gardeners have marked this week in May as "Be Nice to Nettles" week. Could it be time to embrace the countryside's most annoying stinger?
Variants of the Urtica plant, with its jagged leaves and fibrous stems, can be found naturally across the world, growing in moist, shady places like forests, near rivers or in ditches alongside roads. Not all of them sting, but the most common species U. dioca, and the dwarf version U. urens, can be painful if you brush your hand across them.
These nettles have tiny hairs, called trichomes, that are essentially little hypodermic needles waiting to inject their contents into your skin. Inside them is a fluid containing formic acid, histamine, acetylcholine and serotonin. It's why the word nettle derives from the Anglo-Saxon word "noedl" (needle) and its scientific name Urtica means "to burn".
However it is, in principle, possible to avoid the sting with a firm grip – as the idiom "grasp the nettle" advises – though it's best not to try this at home. And fortunately when the plant is cooked, dried or processed, the trichomes are destroyed. (Incidentally, dock leaves – Rumex obtusifolius – which some say can mitigate a sting's pain, are more likely placebos.)
Given the nettle's ubiquity and utility, people have collected and cultivated the plant for centuries. Archaeological digs in the UK show that as far back as the Bronze Age, people used a subspecies of the plant to make their clothing, realising its easily accessible stems could make for soft, strong textiles.
Over the centuries, the nettle has been entwined with folklore and stories. In Hans Christian Anderson's tale The Wild Swans, a princess must silently – and painfully – knit 11 nettle shirts to save 11 of her brothers, who have been turned into swans by their evil stepmother.
Nettles are also associated with Norse legend – specifically stories of Thor, and his companion Loki, the latter of whom supposedly invented a fishing net made from nettle yarn to catch salmon. The plant, however, has yet to appear in a storyline in the Marvel Cinematic Universe franchise.
(Credit: Alamy).
Around 2,000 years ago, the Romans ate the plant, used it for meat tenderisation, and there's an intriguing story that can be traced back to an Elizabethan herbalist who suggested that Roman soldiers brought seeds with them to the UK, so they could lash themselves with the stems and leaves to increase bloodflow and keep warm in the chilly British climate. It's unclear whether this often-repeated tale is entirely true, because key details such as the location of the planting have been shown to be false (and it would seem hot nettle soup would be the smarter choice), but perhaps it worked for them as a distraction.
Also embedded in nettle folklore, there are stories about Native Americans stinging themselves deliberately as a part of ceremonial rituals, to stay awake during all-night vigils, and as a way to counter joint pain.
There is certainly something to this last application. In 2000, researchers conducted a small but robustly-designed trial to test claims of nettles' pain-relieving powers. Obviously stinging hurts, but the scientists found that people suffering from arthritic discomfort in their thumb or index finger were more likely to report relief from their aches after nettle stings, compared with a group of people who applied a similar-looking leaf with no sting. (It would be inadvisable to self-administer without medical advice: nettles can cause severe allergic reactions in some people.)
But that's not all the nettle has to offer. In 2018, the scientists Dorota Kregiel, Ewelina Pawlikowska, and Hubert Antolakof Lodz University of Technology in Poland compiled a review of many more benefits of nettles. The weed, they conclude, is an "ordinary plant with extraordinary properties" and has largely been underestimated.
For starters, the trio write, nettles do a lot to improve the environments in which they grow. They can improve soil that has been over-fertilised, and reduce its heavy metal content. They also promote biodiversity through the various species of insect they support, such as the red admiral, small tortoiseshell, or peacock butterflies, and would have potential as a carbon sink if farmed commercially.
Nettles also have top-notch nutritional credentials: they contain a level of iron that can rival more fashionable leaves such as spinach or kale. And they're also a source of zinc, iron and magnesium, and contain more protein than many other green vegetables.
Around 2,000 years ago, the Romans ate the plant, used it for meat tenderisation, and there's an intriguing story that can be traced back to an Elizabethan herbalist who suggested that Roman soldiers brought seeds with them to the UK, so they could lash themselves with the stems and leaves to increase bloodflow and keep warm in the chilly British climate. It's unclear whether this often-repeated tale is entirely true, because key details such as the location of the planting have been shown to be false (and it would seem hot nettle soup would be the smarter choice), but perhaps it worked for them as a distraction.
Also embedded in nettle folklore, there are stories about Native Americans stinging themselves deliberately as a part of ceremonial rituals, to stay awake during all-night vigils, and as a way to counter joint pain.
There is certainly something to this last application. In 2000, researchers conducted a small but robustly-designed trial to test claims of nettles' pain-relieving powers. Obviously stinging hurts, but the scientists found that people suffering from arthritic discomfort in their thumb or index finger were more likely to report relief from their aches after nettle stings, compared with a group of people who applied a similar-looking leaf with no sting. (It would be inadvisable to self-administer without medical advice: nettles can cause severe allergic reactions in some people.)
But that's not all the nettle has to offer. In 2018, the scientists Dorota Kregiel, Ewelina Pawlikowska, and Hubert Antolakof Lodz University of Technology in Poland compiled a review of many more benefits of nettles. The weed, they conclude, is an "ordinary plant with extraordinary properties" and has largely been underestimated.
For starters, the trio write, nettles do a lot to improve the environments in which they grow. They can improve soil that has been over-fertilised, and reduce its heavy metal content. They also promote biodiversity through the various species of insect they support, such as the red admiral, small tortoiseshell, or peacock butterflies, and would have potential as a carbon sink if farmed commercially.
Nettles also have top-notch nutritional credentials: they contain a level of iron that can rival more fashionable leaves such as spinach or kale. And they're also a source of zinc, iron and magnesium, and contain more protein than many other green vegetables.
The religious procession "Jesus of Great Power" in Ecuador traditionally involves a 'Cucurucho' walking with stinging nettles on their back in penitence
(Credit: Getty Images).
Finally, there are the myriad medicinal uses. Plenty of the claimed herbal benefits lack scientific evidence, so may be most useful for their placebo effects, but there have been some studies with intriguing results. For example, a dietary supplement containing nettles could help to alleviate the symptoms of urinary tract infections and enlarged prostates. Meanwhile, there have been claims that nettles could help to treat the symptoms of hayfever – however, here the evidence is a little more tentative.
So why are nettles not farmed and sold more widely – or allowed to grow in gardens as free plants with bonus properties?
For now, the plant remains more likely to be seen in the wild than growing in a field. Part of the reason is that post-harvesting can be expensive for farmers: the stems and leaves need to be dried out for processing, which can be costly. Still, if consumer demand for nettles were to increase – as a food, a medicine, or a textile – then that could change the economics.
There's really no reason not to let them grow elsewhere though. With their delicate flowers and distinctive pointed leaves, wild nettles have a strong resemblance to another, unrelated group of plants, the dead nettles (in the genus Lamium) – which are popular garden additions, actively sought out to add lush foliage to pots and borders. (It's thought that dead nettles might have evolved a similar appearance on purpose, to trick animals into avoiding them though they lack a sting.)
Who knows, in 10 years' time, nettles might be in some of the most carefully-manicured gardens – or even a part of your wardrobe.
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