The Many Lives of Woad

In my pigment garden, there are few plants that are as full of quiet drama as woad. I'm completely captivated by its astonishing transformation.

In its first year, woad grows in a humble, low rosette of soft green leaves. These are the leaves I harvest for blue pigment, but it's in the second year that something unexpected and beautiful begins to unfold. From the base, tall stems emerge, eventually exploding into a cloud of tiny yellow flowers. The plant is upright, wild and exuberant. One can hardly believe it is the same plant!

And then begins my favourite part of all, the seed pods.

At first, the seed pods are vibrant and green, like rows of tiny lanterns catching the light. 

Then slowly,  they begin to shift in tone, through warm browns, soft purples, and finally into a deep, dark aubergine, almost black. 

Just when you think the transformation is complete, the pods transforms again, fading out into parchment tones, ghostlike and brittle.

It's as though the plant tells an entire story, chapter by chapter, through colour, shape, and texture. Each stage feels like a new page. From the fresh green rosettes to golden flowers, shifting seed pods and finally to the brittle faded remains. 

There's something truly magical and grounding about watching it change. It's incredible how much the woad plant holds within its short life cycle. Quietly reminding me that transformation takes time, and that beauty doesn't always shout. Sometimes it just hangs there, swaying gently in the breeze...