Rooted Twice: Bridging Ancestral Heritage and the Minnesota Soil

There’s a shift in the herbalism world that feels deeply personal. People aren’t just looking for “natural alternatives” anymore; they’re looking for themselves. People are digging through their own family trees to find the plants their ancestors relied on, while simultaneously trying to figure out how to be a good caretaker to the land they actually live on today.

For those of us with mixed roots, this is a bit of a balancing act. It’s one thing to read about the ancient uses of herbs from your ethnic history, but it’s another thing entirely to translate those traditions into a life lived in the Midwest. It’s about being rooted twice—once in the stories of the people who came before you, and once in the specific, ecosystem of the place you call home.

The Geography of the Soul
Living in Minnesota, we have a bit of a challenge with our winters (to put it mildly) When you’re an herbalist here and you’d like to grow your own herbs, you learn quickly how many plants just won’t grow as a perennial in zone 4. Add to that I’m in a townhome with limited outdoor and deck space. But I’m also feeling drawn to explore my family roots, which is a mix of German and Lebanese heritage.

The German Lineage: This is my “map.” German traditions are structured, deeply documented, and treat herbalism with a matter-of-fact practicality. It’s the nettle tea you drink because it’s spring and your body needs it, no questions asked.

The Lebanese Lineage: This is my “heart.” In Levantine culture, herbs aren’t medicine kept in a cabinet; they are the flavor of the kitchen and the scent of the home. It’s mint, thyme, and anise—remedies passed down through hospitality rather than textbooks.

The Bridge in My Garden: Lemon Balm
So I found a plant which was valued in Germany and Lebanon and grows in Minnesota – Lemon Balm (Melissa officinalis).

This plant is a bit of a heritage overachiever. On my German side, Melissa is the backbone of traditional nervous system support—it’s the “keep calm and carry on” herb of the Old World. On my Lebanese side, it’s that bright, citrusy lift in a cup of tea that says “welcome to my home.” It’s an herb of hospitality and heart-centered healing.

The best part? It absolutely loves Minnesota. Despite our sub-zero winters, Lemon Balm comes back every year with a “is that all you’ve got?” attitude. I plan to grow a massive patch of it this year. Every time I brush against it in the garden, I’ll smelling a lineage that stretches from the Mediterranean to the Rhine, all while my shoes are in the Burnsville dirt.

Why This Matters Now
This resurgence isn’t just about nostalgia. It’s about reclaiming a sense of belonging in a world that feels increasingly manufactured. When we explore our ethnic herbal history, we’re saying, “I come from somewhere.” When we root ourselves in the land we live in now, we’re saying, “I am here.”

Herbalism is the bridge between the two. It’s a way to keep our ancestors’ voices alive without ignoring the very real, very present plants growing right outside our back door. We aren’t just rediscovering old ways; we’re growing new ones.