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The Tree with Two Faces

Walk along any Devon lane or Norfolk field edge in late summer and you will meet the elder twice over. First as a gangly, soft-wooded shrub with corky bark and grey-green leaves that smell faintly of cats when crushed — draped in flat creamy plates of blossom in June, and heavy with tiny black berries by September. Secondly as a character in a story: part medicine chest, part witch's familiar, part fairy-doctor, part bad luck.

Elder (Sambucus nigra) is one of those plants our ancestors simply could not leave alone. It fed them, healed them, dyed their wool, gave their children whistles and pop-guns, and flavoured their wine — while frightening them half to death at the same time. Getting to know it properly means learning both faces.

The Elder Mother and the Fairy Folk

Across much of Britain and northern Europe the elder was believed to have a guardian: a spirit or fairy-woman known as the Elder Mother. In Denmark she was Hylde-Moer; in England she was usually just "the Old Lady" or "the Old Gal", and she lived in the wood of the tree rather than in it as a body.

If you wanted an elder branch for a peg, a whistle or firewood, you asked first. The old rhyme ran: "Elder be ye Lady's tree, burn it not or cursed ye'll be." A polite request — "Old Gal, give me thy wood, and I'll give thee mine when I am a tree" — was the usual way of excusing yourself before cutting. Those who took without asking could expect a run of bad luck, a sick animal, or a child that would not settle.

Fairies were said to favour the elder too. Children were warned not to fall asleep beneath one at dusk, for fear of being led astray or "taken" — and a cradle made of elder wood was widely thought to invite trouble with the fairy folk.

Protection, Witches and the Devil's Tree

The elder's reputation is gloriously contradictory, which is half its charm. Planted beside a cottage door, it kept witches and evil out. A small cross of elder over the stable door stopped the fairies riding horses through the night. Elder leaves tucked into a churn kept the milk sweet, and sprigs laid in the pantry saw off mice.

Yet the same tree was also called the witches' tree, the tree of the dark arts. Some said the thirteenth member of a coven took elder form; others claimed Judas hanged himself from an elder, and that the tree has been cursed ever since. You will still hear country people say the elder smells of the devil, and that it attracts lightning — though an equal number of old books insist it is never struck.

Practical uses ran alongside the stories. Hollow stems became bellows, taps, pegs, combs and pop-guns; the pith pushes out easily with a wire. Berries gave a violet-blue dye and elderberry wine at weddings and harvest suppers, while flowers went into ointments, vinegar and skincare. Little of that tree was wasted.

Picking Elderflowers: A June Harvest

Elderflower season is roughly late May to early July, later the further north you go. Go out on a dry, sunny morning, ideally after two or three rainless days, when the scent is strongest and the pollen dry.

• Cut whole heads with a few centimetres of stalk and lay them flat in a basket or box — never crammed into a bag, where they sweat and brown.
• Choose creamy-white, fully open heads. Leave anything with brown florets, black speckling or a sour, musty smell.
• Pick above waist height and away from busy roads, where spray and exhaust settle, and avoid nature reserves and protected sites where picking is not allowed.
• Use the flowers the same day. Twenty heads steeped in 1.5 litres of water with a kilo of sugar, the zest and juice of two lemons and 30g of citric acid makes a classic cordial after 24 to 48 hours. The flowers also make excellent fritters, vinegar and a gently sparkling "champagne".

Elderberries: The Late-Summer Ritual

From late August into early October the drooping umbels turn black-purple, though not all berries on a head ripen at once. Pick whole heads when most berries are dark, then strip them with the tines of a fork.

Older custom says you should never take the last of the elderberries, and many households left one tree in the hedge untouched for the fairies and the birds. Old Michaelmas in mid-October was the traditional end of the season, after which the fruit was left alone.

In the kitchen, elderberries shine in syrup with honey and warming spices, in spiced ketchup with vinegar and ginger, in pies, crumbles and slow-cooked chutney, or dried for winter teas. A bottle of homemade elderberry syrup in the cupboard is worth more than most things a chemist will sell you in January.

Staying Safe and Seasonal

Elder is a generous plant, but it demands respect. Raw berries, leaves, bark, roots and green stems contain cyanogenic compounds that cause nausea, vomiting and diarrhoea, and every year someone learns this the hard way.

• Never eat elderberries raw. Simmer them thoroughly — at least 15 to 20 minutes — in syrup, jam, sauce or pie. Heat destroys the compounds; the berries do not.
• Strip berries from the stems carefully and discard green stalk, leaves and unripe fruit.
• Do not make home remedies from elder leaves, bark or root. Flowers and cooked berries only.
• Learn to tell true elder from dwarf elder (Sambucus ebulus), a lower, foul-smelling plant that is more toxic still, and from red-berried elder (Sambucus racemosa). If in any doubt, walk on.
• Elderflower cordial bottled without enough acid or cold storage can keep fermenting and blow corks, or bottles. Use swing-tops, keep it chilled, and check before you open one.

Ask the Old Lady's permission anyway. It costs nothing, keeps an old habit alive, and gives you a moment to check the tree is healthy, unsprayed and not somewhere you should not be picking. Take a head or two, leave plenty behind, and the elder of the hedgerow will keep you in cordial and syrup until the blackberries come round again.