Embracing the Power of Plants: My Journey with Antique Remedies and Herbal Wisdom

There’s something truly magical about the world of antique medicinal remedies. As an herbalist, I’m drawn to these vintage cures, not just for their historical charm but because they represent a time when healing was grounded in the natural world. In those days, people knew the power of herbs and relied on them as their first line of defense. And while I fully acknowledge that modern medicine has brought us lifesaving treatments, I believe it should be a supplement—not a replacement—for what nature provides.

One of my favorite finds in my collection is a paper box of Kinsman’s Asthmatic Cigarettes (containing all 60 cigarettes) Made in the 1930's, these “medicinal” cigarettes were created to help with breathing issues, a respiratory support blend that feels like a relic from another world. Each ingredient—stramonium, lobelia, ephedra, grindelia, cascarilla, euphorbia, cassia, and deer tongue—has a history of medicinal use. I find it fascinating how these plants were carefully chosen to open airways and ease breathing, even though we wouldn’t necessarily smoke these herbs today. Stramonium, also known as jimson weed, is incredibly potent and risky, but it was prized for its antispasmodic effects on the respiratory system. Lobelia, often called “Indian tobacco,” is another strong herb that helps relax bronchial muscles, though in the wrong dose it can also be toxic. It’s incredible to think about how these herbs, so powerful in the right amounts, were trusted by early herbalists and pharmacists.

I even have a mystery bottle that contained strychnine, belladonna, and podophyllin—a trio that practically shouts “use with caution!” While I’m unsure what it was originally meant to treat, the ingredients are a fascinating combination of some of the most potent medicinal plants. Belladonna, or deadly nightshade, was used for centuries as a muscle relaxant and pain reliever, but too much can be fatal. Strychnine is infamous as a poison, yet it was once used in small doses as a stimulant and remedy for fatigue. And then there’s podophyllin, derived from the Mayapple plant, which was historically used for its strong purgative effects. These ingredients are a bit daunting, to be honest, but they’re a glimpse into a time when medicine was both an art and a daring science. It reminds me to respect the potency of plants—and to understand that our ancestors took risks we might not take today.

Another prized item in my collection is an old mustard plaster tin. Mustard plasters were a common remedy for chest colds and respiratory congestion, working by stimulating blood flow and creating a warming effect when applied to the skin. The mustard seeds in the plaster release oils that cause a tingling, almost burning sensation, helping to break up congestion and relieve pain in the chest. It’s easy to see why they were so popular, though you’d have to be careful not to leave them on too long, as they can actually burn the skin. This tin serves as a reminder of just how hands-on people had to be with their remedies, preparing them with a balance of caution and know-how.

I also have a small vial with a cork top that holds an unknown root—a mystery piece that could have been used in any number of traditional remedies. I keep it as a reminder of the lost herbal knowledge that was passed down but sometimes not written down, leaving only the evidence of its use. Perhaps this root was for digestive relief or as a calming aid, or maybe it was used in ritual medicine. It feels like a link to the past and the mysteries of folk medicine that still call to us today.

One especially meaningful piece in my collection is a simple paper pill box and a set of old medicine labels from Montana, where I was born. These small pieces connect me to my roots in a more personal way. The labels, delicate but beautifully designed, show the names of local pharmacies that no longer exist. It’s a reminder that herbalism and folk medicine had their own local flavor, with remedies and herbs that were often specific to the plants and practices of the region. Holding these Montana labels, I think about the herbalists and pharmacists who worked there long ago, offering what was available to treat their community’s ailments. There’s something deeply grounding about these small, personal touches from my home state, and they remind me that herbal medicine has always been about connecting to the land and its unique gifts.

As an herbalist, I’ve always felt that nature gives us more than enough to treat many common ailments. Many of today’s pharmaceuticals trace back to plants that were used for centuries, like aspirin, which originated from willow bark, or digitalis, from the foxglove plant. But because there’s no big profit in natural herbs (you can’t patent a plant!), the pharmaceutical industry shifted toward synthetic alternatives. In a way, it’s a shame. Pills and injections are convenient, sure, but there’s something powerful about working with plants in their natural form, knowing that generations before us used them to keep their communities healthy.

In my own practice, I believe that herbs should be the first line of defense. Plants like mullein and coltsfoot have been used for respiratory health for generations, and they’re so gentle that even today, herbalists rely on them. Mullein, for example, has mild anti-inflammatory properties that support the lungs, and coltsfoot helps break up mucus, making it easier to breathe. While I wouldn’t go so far as to light up an herbal cigarette daily, I respect the idea behind these old remedies. They offer a reminder that the plants we grow today were, and still are, our original medicine.

Collecting these antique remedies is more than just a hobby; it’s a way for me to connect to the roots of herbalism. I love the look of those old bottles, the handwritten labels, and the idea that they represent a time when people trusted nature to heal. Yes, some of the ingredients were downright dangerous. But for me, that’s part of the story. It’s a glimpse into the evolution of medicine, and a reminder that plants have been—and still are—our best allies when it comes to health.

In my heart, I know there’s a place for Western medicine. It’s essential for serious conditions and emergency situations. But for the everyday struggles—coughs, colds, stress, and minor pains—I’ll continue to reach for my herbs first, just as our ancestors did. My collection of vintage remedies might just be for show, but they’re a powerful reminder of where we come from and how much we owe to the plants that share this world with us.