Elder
Irish Name: Trom
Botanical Name: Sambucus nigra
My Story
"I am the elder, the medicine chest of the hedgerow, the tree of fairy magic."
I'm not a delicate wildflower — I'm a tree, a small, scrubby, wonderfully useful tree that grows in hedgerows and woodland edges across Ireland. But when I bloom in late May and June, I produce some of the most beautiful and fragrant flowers in the Irish countryside.
My flower heads are flat-topped clusters of tiny, creamy-white blossoms, each one no bigger than a pinhead. Together, they form broad, plate-like umbels that fill the air with a sweet, musky, honey-like scent. On a warm June evening, you can smell me from metres away.
My Irish name, Trom, hints at my weight — not physical weight, but the weight of tradition, folklore, and respect I carry. In Ireland, I am one of the most storied trees, wrapped in layers of superstition, reverence, and practical use.
My Home: Irish Hedgerows
I grow in hedgerows, along woodland edges, on waste ground, and in gardens throughout Ireland. I'm not fussy — give me reasonable soil and some light, and I'll grow. I'm often one of the first trees to colonise disturbed ground, and I provide crucial habitat for wildlife.
My flowers are a feast for pollinators. Hoverflies, beetles, and small flies swarm to my flower heads in June, drawn by the nectar and the sweet scent. Later in the year, my dark purple berries feed birds — blackbirds, thrushes, and warblers gorge on them in autumn, spreading my seeds far and wide.
I'm also a host plant for many insects. My hollow stems provide winter shelter for solitary bees and other beneficial insects. A single elder tree is a whole ecosystem in miniature.
Folklore & Magic
No tree in Ireland carries more folklore than the elder. I was considered a fairy tree — a tree of the Otherworld. It was said that an elder growing near your house protected it from evil spirits, but cutting one down without permission would bring terrible luck.
The tradition was to ask the tree's permission before taking anything from it: "Old Woman, Old Woman, give me some of your wood, and when I am dead, I'll give you some of mine." This respectful approach reflects the deep reverence Irish people had for the natural world.
In folk medicine, I was called "the medicine chest of the country people." Every part of me was used: flowers for cordials and skin washes, berries for syrups and wines, bark for various remedies. Elderflower water was prized for clearing the complexion, and elderberry syrup was the go-to remedy for winter colds.
Even today, elderflower cordial and elderberry syrup are beloved in Ireland — a living connection to centuries of traditional knowledge.
From Hedgerow to Jewellery
Elderflowers are exquisitely delicate to preserve. Each tiny floret must be carefully separated and dried, maintaining the creamy white colour and the star-like shape of each individual flower.
I collect elderflowers during their brief blooming window in late May and June, choosing flower heads that are freshly opened and at their most fragrant. The timing has to be just right — too early and the buds are still closed, too late and the petals begin to brown.
In resin, elderflowers look like tiny constellations — clusters of cream-white stars suspended in crystal clarity. They carry the magic of Irish hedgerows, the wisdom of folk medicine, and the sweet scent of June evenings (even if you can only imagine it when you look at them).
Ethical Foraging Note
Elder trees are common throughout Ireland, but I always follow the old tradition of asking before taking. I collect only a small portion of flowers from any one tree, leaving plenty for pollinators and for the berries that birds depend on in autumn.
If you'd like to forage elderflowers yourself, choose trees away from busy roads, pick on dry days when the pollen is visible, and never take more than a quarter of the flowers from a single tree. The bees and birds need them too.
