Learning My Garden, One Herb at a Time

“Trefoil, vervain, John’s wort, dill,

Hinder witches of their will.”

–Sir Walter Scott, Guy Mannering, 1815

My newly established kitchen garden, after having moved from the back to the front yard, is settling in nicely. It’s mostly planted now, with the vegetables in three raised beds and herbs (and more vegetables) here and there, planted directly in the ground. It’s far enough along that I’ve even placed a chair in its midst, because appreciating its simple beauty and daily progress gives me such pleasure.

I still have plans for removing more sod, installing an arbor and generally sprucing the area up, but it’s far enough along that I thoroughly enjoy being in it, free from anxiety about what needs to be done. I have a half-finished wattle fence (more on that, later), which promises to be the perfect solution to edging the garden by the boundary with my neighbor’s driveway. It’s shaping up to be a nice garden, with all the sunshine I’d hoped that the front yard would provide.

Getting to know a new space, inside or out, takes time. This particular space is a corner of the front yard that I have never gardened in before, because of its proximity to the neighbor’s driveway, so it initially felt very strange to me. Spending time working in it has begun to change that feeling, as has the joy of seeing the garden thrive.

The vegetables are familiar to me; I’ve either grown them (or tried to) or eaten them all before. The herbs, however, are less familiar. I’m interested in growing a few culinary herbs along with a few medicinal herbs and have selected a dozen or so for this year. To coax myself beyond the familiar, I’ve been seeking guidance from books, through workshops and online. It’s a slow process, and I’m trying to hang onto the advice of getting to know one plant at a time.

I stumbled upon a beautiful book about herbs that’s organized in just that way, one herb at a time.

75 Exceptional Herbs for Your Garden, by Jack Staub, is a most appealing book. Beginning with its cloth, embossed binding, it’s a pleasure to hold and to read. It’s organized herb by herb and is adorned by simple, yet elegant botanical artwork. Every chapter begins with an enchanting poem or quote, usually from centuries past, about the herb. For each herb, we learn fascinating bits of history and medicinal uses, past and present, and something about its cultivation in the garden. Every chapter finishes with a suggested recipe.

I’ve revealed a few times that I’m a zig zag gardener; the organization of this book by short two- to three-page chapters, each exploring one herb, aligns well with my gardening habits. It is so beautifully written, often funny, that it continues to tempt me to pick it up even though I’ve read it all (in a zig zagging way, of course). After a visit from the garden, noticing how lovely the sage looks in bloom, I picked it up for a quick read about sage.

“Cur morietur homo cui Salvia crescit in horto?”

(“How can a man die who grows sage in his garden?”

–Motto of the medical school of Salerno, Italy, eighth century A.D.

Nicholas Culpeper, in 1653, proclaimed that “sage is singularly good for the head and brain, it quickeneth the senses and memory, strengtheneth the sinews, restoreth health to those that have the palsy, and taketh away shakey trembling of the members.”

Today, it is highly regarded for its antioxidant, anti-inflamatory and antiseptic properties. And, studies have, in fact, shown it to be a good memory booster. After making a convincing case for each of two varieties that I don’t currently have in my garden (pineapple and golden), the chapter finishes up with a recipe for sage “frytures,” inspired by John Russell’s Book of Nurture (1460), which sounds both decadent and delicious. I’ll need to make a note of it as a perfect crispy accompaniment for an autumn squash soup. In the meantime, I’ll be sure to nibble a leaf or two as I move through the garden, and toss a couple into my next salad.

This book is not an herbal, nor a comprehensive resource on growing and using herbs. But, it is a most enjoyable book to keep handy for a break from gardening or a few minutes at the end of a day’s work. It’s entertaining to read, in a small bites sort of way, when a more dense reference book would overwhelm. Enjoy it with a glass of sun tea, flavored by your favorite garden herb.

And, the next time you stroll by the peppermint in your garden, rub a little onto your arms and know that you’re following in the steps of the ancient Greeks, who believed that each part of the body should be differently scented with a specific herb.

What’s your favorite, relaxing gardening book?

May 24 2010

Dandelions and Violets: Wild Edibles Close to Home

My eyes have been opened to the wild, edible greens growing right in my own yard, after attending Let Food Be Thy Medicine: Using Herbs in the Kitchen at Saturday’s Spring Herb and Garden Conference. Herbalist Darcey Blue French of Brighid’s Well Herbs inspired us all by mixing up several delicious recipes for tasting, including an herbal pesto and a weed salad.

I haven’t looked at my “weeds” the same way since, especially those white violets I was cursing a few weeks ago. In fact, I snipped both dandelion greens and violet leaves this evening, along with sorrel, spinach, mizuna and black-seeded Simpson lettuce from my garden. I topped off the greens with chive and viola flowers for a beautiful and delicious spring salad.

Violet leaves are a tonic for the body’s lymph system and are rich in vitamin C. They are a powerful blood purifier. They taste very green, not surprisingly, given their dark, dark green color. Both the leaf and flower are antiseptic, antifungal and anti-inflamatory. Violet leaves have been used to treat asthma, bronchitis, headaches—the list is very long. They are chewy, but not stringy, and are somewhat nutty and spicy in flavor, a nice addition to a mixed green salad.

Dandelion leaves, especially from a young plant, remove toxins from the body. According to a report from the USDA in 1984, dandelion greens ranked among the top most nutritious vegetables. (Why do we not hear more about this?) In addition to purifying the blood, dandelion leaves are good for digestion, promote weight loss, lower serum cholesterol, prevent/lower high blood pressure and more. For a comprehensive summary of the dandelion’s health benefits as well as the related chemical compounds, check out this informative article. Dandelion leaves are bitter in taste (a taste that results from some of its healthful compounds), so it works great in a mixed salad balanced by sweeter greens.

As I puttered around the yard and garden today, I really did look at my lawn and the somewhat untidy beds in a different way. I have a long way to go to be proficient in identifying the many “weeds” in my yard, and I’ll limit my nibbling to the handful I know for sure. I have a great tool that’s perfect for twisting dandelions, root and all, out of the lawn, and I was thinking of using it soon. In fact, I was beating myself up for letting that first crop go to seed.

Now I’m not so sure. My lawn is tiny, having been reduced every year by expanding planting beds. I think I have secretly harbored some fantasy that it will be the green monoculture of a lawn that we’re all supposed to want. I read today in a NOFA (Northeast Organic Farmers Association) publication that lawns, prior to World War II, were diverse carpets of green made up of dozens of different grasses and plants. It was after the war, with the introduction of herbicides and the resulting marketing hype, that we came to love the all-grass, no-weed carpet of a lawn.

I suspect that somewhere along the way it just wasn’t fashionable to speak of the dandelion as the healthy vegetable that it is. I’m not sure how I’ll work this one out in my own little lawn, but I’m suspicious that there could be more out there worth keeping alive.

Hearing and reading about the nutritional and healing qualities of these common plants, it seems so sad that we, as a culture, were so quick to turn away from them.

The best advice of the day, heard from several herbalists, was to choose one plant and know it well. I think I’ve found two worth getting to know and the harvest promises to be continually bountiful.

May 23 2010

Mizuna: My New Favorite of the Spring Greens

My little garden is bursting with spring greens right now, and my favorite of the moment is mizuna. I didn’t actually plan to grow it; I accepted a packet of High Mowing organic seeds after Ben Hewitt’s reading in town of his new book, The Town That Food Saved and planted a patch at about the same time I planted my spinach. Serendipity paid off.

What a lovely leafy green it is. Mizuna (brassica rapa) is a feathery Japanese mustard green with a slightly peppery, but sweet taste. (It’s not as spicy as arugula.) Its leaves are a rich dark green in color and are tender, even when eaten raw.

Mizuna is usually found in mesclun mix, but it’s worth trying by itself. In fact, I think I’ve given up on planting salad mixes for two reasons. The first is that I’m never quite sure if I’m clipping salad greens or weeds (although eating a weed or two probably hasn’t hurt me). The second is, I like knowing what I’ve planted. In the interest of getting to know my vegetables better, it’s more interesting to let them shine as individuals.

I’ve been eating Mizuna in salads, in stir fries, with rice pasta and chopped into bean salads. I have not tried it steamed yet. Tonight, I tossed it with the last of my winter CSA red potatoes, garlic, olive oil and a little goat cheese for a simple, easy dinner.

And, of course, it’s packed with nutrition, like all leafy greens. It’s high in folic acid, carotenoids, vitamin A and vitamin C. Mizuna is also rich in antioxidants. Like other brassicas, it contains compounds called glucosinolates, which may inhibit the growth of certain cancers. How satisfying it is to harvest delicious, nutrient-rich greens from my garden and be eating dinner ten minutes later, knowing that every bite is good for my health.

Mizuna is cold-tolerant, so I’ll be sure to plant more in late summer for a fall crop.

Mizuna with Steamed Red Potatoes and Goat Cheese

2 or 3 cups mizuna, washed
2 red potatoes
olive oil
2 cloves garlic
sea salt
2 T. goat cheese

Wash, cube and steam the potatoes until just tender. Place in bowl. Crush garlic onto potatoes and drizzle with olive oil. Season well with sea salt. Toss the mixture well. Roughly chop the mizuna, stems and all, and add to potato mixture. Toss again. Crumble goat cheese on top and it’s ready to eat. The end result is sort of like a warm salad, with the greens warm, but not wilted. Delicious.

May 17 2010

A View of Summer

I’ll be spending my two-week vacation this summer in Craftsbury, Vermont. This is the view down the road.

I can’t wait.

May 16 2010

Whatever Happened to Natural Mulch?

Have you noticed all the front yards and businesses lately adorned with bright red and jet black “mulch”? I have, and I’m not loving the trend.

Aesthetically, I find the colors garish and completely unnatural. Close up, the chips appear painted to me—in fact, I’ve been calling it “painted” mulch for a few years; “dyed” is the preferred term. (Interestingly, the industry calls it “paint” in documentation describing the dying technology and process.) Dyed mulch lacks that dreamy fresh smell that new cedar, hemlock or even pine mulch offers. And, when it rains, the excess color can even run onto nearby pavement. Freaky, if you ask me.

Noticing that bagged, dyed mulch is easier to find now than the traditional “real” mulches, I suspected that something must be up in the mulch industry, and I was right.

There’s a whole lot more mulching going on than ever before. It seems logical that real bark mulch is becoming increasingly limited in supply. Looking for another way to meet growing consumer demand, the industry looked toward something other than bark. About ten years ago, the development of the chemicals and technology to make it look “just like bark” (really?) opened up a whole new opportunity. And, for consumers that like fully-saturated color in their mulch, the new product was perfect.

But, what is it? It appears that dying wood chips, in supposedly “natural” colorants, allows mulch manufacturers to tap into a low-cost and readily available stream of construction and demolition waste. Much of the dyed mulch on the market contains high levels of arsenic, sometimes from ground-up pressure treated lumber. The dyes themselves, proprietary (secret) chemical blends, are described by manufacturers as “natural,” although those handling them must wear eye and skin protection. Some manufacturers add pesticides and mold inhibitors to the dye–to make extra sure that mulch doesn’t break down and become part of the soil, the way a truly natural mulch will, improving the soil at the same time. For gardeners with pets and children, these chemicals, along with the toxins in the wood itself, present a real concern.

I’m mulching this year with compost from Lewis Farm in Concord, where my city’s municipal yard waste is turned into rich, dark, crumbly compost that’s available at a very fair price. On the beds that usually get a fresh application of bark mulch, I’m going to try to get away with freshening up the existing hemlock mulch by turning it over with a good raking. If that’s not sufficient, I may end up buying a small amount of hemlock bark mulch. I’m still mulling over mulches for my little vegetable garden. I’m hoping I can come up with some leaves, other than the oak leaves that I have, which might create too much acidity.

I try so hard not to pass judgment on other people’s gardening taste. I even kind of enjoy the diversity of tastes in a neighborhood like mine: plastic ducks that change costumes every few days (graduation robes, right now), a tree stump carved into a big cross, all kinds of paths, fences, benches, containers and plantings. Mostly, I’m just happy so many people are gardening at all. But I really struggle with the issue of “painted” mulch. I can’t seem to walk by it without feeling sort of angry and sad that things are moving in this direction. I can’t seem to just chalk it up to someone else’s taste. It seems more like an unfortunate convergence of an industry opportunity and people’s desire for “enhanced,” permanent color.

I wonder how many people are unknowingly buying up bags of “red mulch” and “black mulch,” not even knowing that they’re buying ground-up, recycled construction wood, soaked in chemical colorants, pesticides and mold inhibitors. Others are probably too focused on the vivid color that, to them, looks just right in their yards or gardens to give much thought to where the mulch came from.

For now, I’ll try to focus again on my own yard and garden choices, and leave others to make their choices without my guidance. And, I’ll appreciate with more enthusiasm the gardeners and landscapers who choose truly natural products.

What are you mulching with this spring?

May 13 2010

Blooming Today

A big part of gardening, for me, is planning and working for something that I’ll enjoy in the future. Endless puttering and improving, always tweaking.

May is a perfect time for taking a moment out to enjoy it all. Here’s what’s blooming in my garden this evening:

columbine
white azalea
doublefile viburnum
viola (white/purple and purple/yellow)
pansies
sweet woodruff
bleeding hearts, including a delicate fringed variety
chives
lily of the valley
Canada mayflower
creeping phlox
dandelions (yes, they’re beautiful)
blueberry
lilac
dwarf Korean lilac
lamium
Solomon’s-seal
allium (mystery variety)
ajuga
white violets
geranium Johnson’s blue

In the front yard kitchen garden, while nothing is in bloom, plenty is happening. I’ve been eating radish and spinach thinnings for a few days. I planted a beautiful rhubarb plant yesterday, shared with me by a reader in Antrim (thank you!). The bok choi, lettuce, Asian greens and peas are all coming along beautifully, as are the various kitchen herbs I’ve planted.The ten minutes spent watering and tending to this little garden tonight (with my new friend, the sweet black cat from the house next door) was quiet and relaxing.

Although I don’t always have a lot of energy at the end of a work day for heavy chores in the garden, nothing seems to slow me down and settle my mind as much as an hour or two spreading a little compost here and there, watering a few transplants, taking an inventory of what’s blooming and just enjoying it all.

Because it’s blooming today.

May 12 2010

Doublefile Viburnum: Drama Coming and Going

Now that the Korean spice viburnum has passed out of bloom in the front yard, the beautiful doublefile viburnum is coming into its full glory, in the backyard. What it lacks in scent, it more than makes up for in drama.

I received this shrub, now about six feet in height, about fifteen years ago as a gift. I made the classic error–one I’ve repeated many times since–of planting it way too close to the house. Either I didn’t read the tag, or I didn’t believe that the doublefile reaches a height of 15 to 18 feet. I am not sure what variety this one is; at the time, as a beginning gardener, remembering “viburnum” was challenge enough.

Just a few years ago, when painting the house, I was forced to prune it harshly to create space between it and the house. It’s recovered beautifully, and sort of wraps around the corner of the house without touching it. Though I’ve moved many other shrubs to correct similar planting errors, I never did move this one. I continue to like it right where it is, crazy pruning and all.

When it’s at its best, it has a distinct Asian flair, because of its unusual shape. It has a dramatic, lateral branching habit that creates a cool, shady spot that my lab calls his own. And, nothing finds enough light (or water) underneath it to grow, making it a perfect garden spot for dogs. In the fall, it will turn a beautiful orange in color, and it will form dark-colored berries, ending the year with even more drama.

I have two other viburnums that I suspect are other varieties of doublefiles. With so many varieties of viburnum to choose from (150 or more, I believe), I may never figure it out. I lost the tags for each long ago.

I’d love to add a native to the mix, and I’m thinking of the northern raisin viburnum. With white flowers in the spring and dark blue berries in the fall, the northern raisin will max out at six feet–perfect for a tiny city yard that’s sure to run out of space some day soon.

May 9 2010

Mother’s Day in the Garden

The lily of the valley reminds me of my mother, in a way that instantaneously connects me back to early childhood memories.

I think she liked this flower, too. With both her birthday and Mother’s Day falling in May, and an abundance of them growing in our yard, the lily of the valley was an obvious choice for my gift bouquets, and she received them graciously. Never do I recall being told not to pick them, or to watch where I was stepping. Ours was not a fussy garden. In fact, I don’t recall hearing the word “garden,” ever. It was simply a yard, and it was there for me and my sisters to use as we pleased. Along with our dog, and all the other kids in the neighborhood.

My lilies of the valley are just coming into bloom now, along with the twinkling blanket of tiny white star flowers that is the sweet woodruff, and I love each and every one. A few years ago, I acquired pink lily of the valley from a friend’s backyard, a wild tangle of a long-neglected garden, once lovingly tended by her grandmother. I’ve heard some people complain that the lily of the valley is invasive, but mine are not. Under the relatively dry shade of the white oak, they spread slowly year by year, into the “wild corner,” where they are completely welcome.

I’m not sure what my mother would make of my crazy gardening projects. My digging, endless moving and reconfiguring of beds, trying crazy vegetables like the pink banana squash. No doubt, she’d be glad to know of the joy it all brings to me. She’d also be glad to know that mine is not a fussy garden–although it is a garden, not simply a yard–and that it also welcomes children and dogs.

Even perennial-trampling dogs with compost in their hair.

This Mother’s Day, in my garden, we celebrated with what has become an annual tradition: the turning of the compost heap. It’s definitely a task that flies along beautifully with the extra help of my strong son and, once again, it was exhilarating to turn the big beast (the heap, that is) over and open up the main bin for a new season of garden materials.

The big pile got turned into two smaller piles, and watered well.

The bottom of the pile being turned was pretty wet and compacted, without air, and exuded interesting smells.

Although I shrieked every time those big paws pounced through the “garden,” I know that none of my plants are so delicate that they won’t survive the adventure with my exuberant grand-dog. Perhaps I can take a cue from my mother and my childhood “garden,” and let my garden be just a yard–a place where all are welcome and memories are born.

May 5 2010

How Does My Garden Grow (While I’m Not Looking)?

It’s another hectic week for me, with not much time for tasks in the garden when I come home in the evening. Just enough time to appreciate things, before the sun slips away. How quickly everything is changing right now.

Just a few days ago, I wondered what this volunteer could be; now, one by one, they’re opening to this beautiful flower. I have several of them, in a couple of different beds, and I don’t remember planting them. Could it be an allium?

And this lovely purple pansy that came back on its own. Somehow, I never expect that of pansies; I must have gotten a batch of nice hardy ones last year.

The bleeding hearts are bigger than ever, and in their full glory right now.

My little raised bed vegetable garden is taking off, too. Right about now, I am struck by how cute it is, with its tiny rows. Because it’s so small, it manages to look so full already. And its little weeds look entirely manageable (they are, really).

I’ll be thinning spinach, Asian greens and radishes any day now, and fresh peas are sure to follow.

I read recently on a list of garden tips that one of the best things you can do for your garden is to walk through it every day and look at it closely. So, I guess I’ve done an important task after all. More importantly, perhaps, is what an evening walk around my garden does for me. It is a perfect way to still my mind and unwind after a busy work day. The other tasks can wait a couple more days, I’m sure.

May 2 2010

Scent in the Garden: Korean Spice Viburnum

The air around my place is full of the heady scent of the Korean spice viburnum; it’s easily my favorite flowering shrub in the garden right now. This well-behaved shrub has so much to offer, in addition to its beautiful scent.

The three-inch flower clusters are a delicate whitish-pink in color, and they cover it from top to bottom. The shrub itself does not seem to require fussy pruning or be prone to significant sucker growth. Mine is growing in full sun, in well-drained soil, but I’ve read that it will also do well in partial shade and moist conditions.

The Korean spice viburnum asks little and gives a lot.

Like most spring flowering shrubs, the flowers won’t last for long. Soon, they will develop into reddish berries, which will darken later in the season to almost black (but the birds will eat them first). In the fall, it will show off beautiful red and orange foliage, bringing color to the perennial border as it goes dormant.

The Korean spice viburnum’s best attribute, without a doubt, is its scent. I worked much of this weekend in parts of the front yard, either nearby in the perennial border, or across the way in the kitchen garden. Wherever I was, I enjoyed the soft scent of its blooms in the air.

Being a gardener who, historically, hasn’t enjoyed working in the front yard, it’s been a nice reward for my efforts.

Nourishing Words

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Monthly Archives: May 2010