This past month at the farm has been intense. Every plant bloomed at the same time, and I found myself constantly running, harvesting as much as possible to meet the demand, carrying kilos of herbs, spending long days sorting, garbling, and packaging. It felt more like factory work than herbalism.
With three interns helping me weekly, we managed. But when we’re packaging, it looks more like an assembly line: one person labels, one fills the packets, one seals. Efficient, yes — but it made me pause. Is this the life I imagined when I started this journey?
I became an herb producer to live closer to the land, with the seasons, and to help people reconnect with local plants and health in a holistic way. Not to chase performance goals and constantly feel like I’m racing against the clock. The reality of herb production is far more physical and challenging than I expected.
So I looked at the numbers.
To live from this job, I would need to earn a minimum of 450 000 kr per year (which equals around of 25 125 kr per month after tax). With employer costs, that means 598 500 kr/year just for salary. Add around 40 000 kr for basic running costs (administration, accounting, equipment, land, drying space), and I’d need 638 500 kr in net sales per year.
Herbs sell at about 3835 kr/kg (cultivated) or 4680 kr/kg (wild harvested, exclusive and formulated blends) all excluding VAT on retail. That means I would need to sell roughly 103–104 kg of dried herbs annually to reach that income. Since drying reduces the weight by about 5 times, that equals over 500 kg of fresh herbs per year.
This year, I will harvest around 100 kg of fresh herbs, and maybe reach 150 kg by season’s end — resulting in a maximum of 30 kg dried. My muscles feel it. My equipment is at its limit. If I sold it all at retail price, it would bring in about 185 250 kr — but in reality, some goes into wholesale, including deliveries to a café and a shop in Uppsala.
And remember: I haven’t done this alone. I’ve had three wonderful interns helping me every week. Without them, I couldn’t have managed. If all of us were paid, the math wouldn’t work with the current system and scale.
And that brings me to another question: wild foraging.
I’ve foraged in the same areas for the past three years. I know the land well, I know who manages it, and I observe how plant populations change. I monitor how the plant populations evolve and adjust my harvesting accordingly. I haven't seen any visible impact from my harvesting, except for raspberry leaves — so I’ve decided not to harvest them there next year, to let the population regenerate. But still, it raises questions: Should I grow more wild herbs myself instead of taking from nature? Would that be more sustainable?
One told me, I could harvest herbs like nettles from people’s gardens — offering a useful service in exchange for herbs. But is that what I want to do? Is it the right way forward?
These are real, ethical questions. Because the more this becomes a business, the more I need to scale. And scaling means more harvesting, more labor, more infrastructure — and more strain on either the land or the body.
So... should one become a herb producer?
Here’s the truth: it’s hard. Physically exhausting, mentally challenging, and financially tight. But despite all this, I still want to do it.
Why? Because I believe in the need for local herbs in Sweden. I believe herbal medicine will become even more important in the future. People need to know how to use herbs, how to make their own remedies, and where to find trusted, local sources.
Through this work, I also truly become an herbalist. It’s not something you study once and are done with. It grows with time, working with plants, testing the plants, understanding their chemistry, life cycle and energetics.
Will my work evolve? Yes. Likely there will be less wild harvesting, more cultivated herbs, and a more refined selection. I hope to develop more products and master the art of remedy making. I love this part — the creativity, the formulation, the care involved. It’s a beautiful extension of the garden: a true farm-to-product approach.
This winter, I’ll take a short step back for the first time since three years, to return to academics for a while — to learn more, think deeply, and prepare for what’s next. I hope to study the formulation of herbal products and bring back this knowledge to improve what I do, and maybe shift Nordiska Örter toward new forms. The herb farm will stay. The dried herbs will too. And if one day I choose to step away, I hope I’ll find someone to carry it forward.
So — if you're dreaming of becoming a herb producer, ask yourself:
Are you ready for the physical work, the slow building, and the seasonal pace?
Are you willing to question yourself, adapt, and grow along with your plants?
If the answer is yes, then welcome. There’s room for more of us.
Agnès
0 kommentarer