In the spring, Naomi heads into the field next to our house in Yorkshire to cut off the tender heads of stinging nettles (Urtica doica). She makes a great nettle soup. There is just a hint of their painful sting: an added warmth, the memory of the sting, the recoil, the itch and rash. She wears gloves of course when gathering the nettles. My part in this is to grow the onions and the potatoes (wash and peel them) and to resist the temptation to chop down or even spray the invasive nettles (which ironically do best on sites where humans have dumped their detritus, especially fertilizing phosphates).