We took a little break and drove down to the annual Garden Palooza event at a local nursery in the Willamette Valley. This event draws people from Portland all the way to Corvallis. We go early on Fridays and there’s still a parking lot full when we arrive, This year didn’t seem quite as crowded but it was fast filling up by the time we left.
Grand collomia. Can’t get my seeds to germinate, so I have starts!full shade. “epinedium youngianum” (Young’s barrenwortbright yellow yarrowAustralian mint
Prices for plants were all over the place, too. I wrote down the price of commercial bleeding hearts at the gate: $6/gallon pot. We saw 4-inch pots for as much as $14 and as low as $4. I found grand collomia starts (two to a pot) for $4, a big yellow yarrow for $12 (gallon pot), an exotic looking “epinedium youngianum” (Young’s barrenwort) also for $12. And a lot of commercial bleeding hearts in gallon pots for anything from $12 to $24! I returned and bought two of the first ones I saw at $6. Our friend found a bottle bush (he likes mine) for a decent price as well. We stopped at another nursery on our way home because the vendor at the event told my husband they sold smaller versions of a plant he fell in love with at the nursery: an Australian mint with purple flowers.
peony bloom destroyed by insect
I also asked the expert from Brother’s Tree Peonies about this damage to one of my peonies. His eyes got large and he said, “Bugs don’t like peonies!” But then he came up with an answer: the culprit is most likely a carpenter bee who dug out the hole, decided it didn’t like peonies, and moved on to a better home. Makes perfect sense to me and it is only one peony, the “test” peony. Because bugs don’t like peonies.
Grand Collomia in bloom, roadside flower. Native.
Now to wait out the next week of rain clouds. And to get ahead of Round One with Allergies.
I then went to work on my “defeat the neighbor’s lawn maintenance guy” project. This is a three-foot wide strip of lawn that abuts their property and is hidden from sight to us by virtues of an ancient garage. Per city code, the garage is set back from our property line but that three feet of set-back is still our property. The war began not because the lawn guy mows the lawn back there (we don’t really care) but because the first year he started mowing their lawn he also mowed down all my sword ferns on that side of the garage. MY ferns that I planted specifically so no one would have to mow there.
I’m a little bit possessive of plants I work hard to put into the ground and nurture to life, even if they are sword ferns in full shade where I never water. Or look, really.
I put out a sign on the side of the garage to PLEASE DON’T MOW THE FERNS. I decided to plant some flowers along that side of the driveway for color. The setback runs parallel to the driveway (which you can see from the house and street) down to my big yucca plant and our water meter. I don’t water there, but someone had to mow the grass there. Twenty years ago, the old woman who originally owned the property asked me to plant flowers there since we routinely forgot to mow that area. Now that I have mostly exhausted new garden beds elsewhere in the yard, why not follow up on that request and plant drought-tolerant but pretty flowers there? Day lilies immediately spring to mind.
I did that. And lawn mower man still manages to clip my plants with his lawn mower. Not the ferns anymore, but the day lilies and the daffodils that were already present there. He runs one wheel of his mower down the strip and steps in the flowers. But the last thing he did was to dead-head MY yucca last year. What the actual…? That yucca is kind of my baby: I picked it up for free over 20 years ago and it has been so happy in that little spot, blooming up a storm every year. I usually cut the expired flower spikes down late in the summer or early in the fall, but last year?! Lawn mower man did it for me.
Lawn mower man has been advised, but he really just doesn’t “get” it. He’s not the brightest bulb on the tree (a saying that I suppose means a Christmas tree’s string of lights). So, yes, I could just talk to him but this area needed flowers and plants anyway. Rather than confront a poor man just doing what he thinks is his job, I did mine and took care of the space like Selma asked me to so many years ago.
Trimmed the ferns and added edging beside the garage. The view to the yucca. I’ll add more drought tolerant flowers.
It is raining today, a light rain that will knock the pollen out of the air, but which keeps me inside the house. This is all right with me. We just came out of a weeklong dry spell during which I was able to get a lot of yard work done but at the price of my health. My face feels like it is swollen out to the end of my nose, my eyes feel (and look) like they have been sandblasted, and my nose is dripping. Allergies have come on early and brutally this season.
I was able to fix a leak in (under) one of my water features. This involved a trip to Lowe’s for some lawn edging and a surprise purchase of a 3×4’ plastic for under a sink. We looked at pond lining (too expensive and way too much lining for my purpose) before we found the under-the-sink lining. Honestly, if you need this stuff under your kitchen sink, you need a plumber. For my little purpose, the size and thickness were perfect, as was the very low price. (We also found the lawn edging I wanted and a bonus shelving unit for the shed we had installed last year, the shelving being on sale and reasonable priced.)
Both water features need work, but the second one isn’t a leak: it is the rusty “fountain” I bought at a yard sale. We need to do something about the rust. But I didn’t tackle that this past week. That job will be a future blog post.
Using a crowbar and moving a number of rocks around, I was finally able to stop the leak in the pond. The large rock forms a natural water course, but the water tends to drip under the lip and into the earth below. I tipped that rock at a slightly steeper angle, then played with the rocks and dish it drips into. The plastic lining went up under all of that (some feat considering the rock probably weighs 70+ pounds). But the result was that I managed to get the right angle and the pond now stays full. I will need to get some mosquito fish next, but I’ll fix the other pond first.
Here we are, less than 24 hours from a massive rain storm and I am writing about sprinklers. It’s not like we’ll need them for the next eight to ten months as all the water will be coming from the skies. Well, tomorrow they say it might be coming in sideways with gusts up to 60MPH (that’s 96+ KPH for my friends who use the metric system, or 52+ knots per hour if you speak nautical). It’s going to be gusty and very, very, very wet.
We collect vintage sprinklers. One of those is homemade – can you identify it?
They aren’t worth a lot according to Google Lens, but some of them (and they aren’t all shown here) are worth a little bit of money. I doubt we paid more than $5 for any one of these and some were outright freebies. As to whether or not they work… Well, some better than others.
Those are the ones that don’t work well. Bad design, just old, or they don’t work in the space I have. The one on the top row that is heart shaped can be found on eBay or Etsy selling for around $65.
Nope, doesn’t work. Homemade, just didn’t make the cut.
These are some of the best sprinklers we have. The green one (top left) sells for around $30, center top row for about $20, the older yellow (top right) for around $10 (and it work so-so). The yellow one on the bottom row is one of my favorites and I found it selling for $20. The owl-eye sprinkler works in small spaces and I found it for around $30. The pot metal with brass center works quite well but it pretty much worthless as a resale item, plus I broke one of the points.
These are the last three. I never use them. Modern technology has given us better hand sprinklers although modern technology has given us spray wands that break easily and dies after a couple years of use. The two on the outside of this trio still work and will work for years to come. The red one might be worth $10 – $15.
The middle item is the most interesting to me. You may have already noticed it is not a sprinkler, but is a siphon. A heavy duty brass siphon that sells for around $30. I think I paid $0.50.
There you have it: our sprinkler collection (sans the all metal yellow oscillating sprinkler which was probably in use when I was busy taking these photos).
I’m ashamed: I have not kept up on the blog. Well, I’m not really ashamed, but I am a tad bit regretful that I haven’t kept up. I think of things to write during the day when I am elbows deep in something, but evening comes, and all that inspiration has evaporated. Poof! Gone! Dissipated into the Nether.
We put in a new shed, replacing the homemade one that came with the house when we moved in here over 20 years ago.
I have been busy canning enough for the two of us: salsa, compote, conserve, chutney. Herbs have been dried or are drying for herbal teas. We foraged huckleberries and elderberries from the National Forest (those are in the freezer, awaiting a moment of inspiration).
We also foraged some more native plants for the yard, some of which have already been planted in the ground and some which are waiting for me. They won’t have to wait long: I have been busy moving plants around and tilling new sites for more plants. I’m waiting for the next round of rain to pass through and will use the ensuing dry days to my advantage.
I have filled the hummingbird feeders and hung them out: I took them down during the hot days of late August when honeybees get lazy and swarm the nectar. I melted and mixed up a new batch of bird suet. That came down when the weather warmed up and the starlings started coming around. The starlings are gone now, moved to parking lots. The weather is cooler and the suet won’t melt or mold now. We’ve started feeding the corvids and small songbirds again. (Corvids: California scrub jays, Steller’s jay, and crows.)
I have cleaned up the space between our shed and the neighbor’s lawn. That’s a bit of a sore point: our garage is set back three feet as per the law, but the yard maintenance person insists on mowing our portion, including over my ferns and day lilies. ARGH. I have tried little fences, cardboard, and now I am merely tilling up the strip to plant more flowers. When we first moved in, the elderly woman who lived in that house asked me to do that so her lawn person wouldn’t have to mow that (because we aren’t the best at keeping up the lawn mowing, preferring to let our yard go “natural”). I wasn’t in a place to do it then, but I am in a place to do it now.
Too bad that Selma died several years ago and we have had renters living next door since. Renters who did not mess with our three feet until the landlord hired this current lawn guy. I have even posted a sign on the side of the garage: DO NOT MOW OVER THE FERNS, PLEASE. He still hits them. So I am in a passive-aggressive war with him (and by extension, the landlady to the property). Yes, I could make a phone call, but it is infinitely more fun doing it this way. Don’t judge me.
(If you’re thinking I’m afraid of confrontation, you’d be very, very wrong. Most people are afraid of confrontation with me. When I come into a confrontation, I come with both barrels loaded and a back-up cannon. The world is much safer when I resort to passive-aggressive flower planting.)
I hacked my poor hydrangea back by at least two feet. It used to be planted under the pine tree (Nature rest its branches and rotting roots). The pine tree fell over some seven or eight years ago. The hydrangea is now in full sun, and summers have heated up the past five or six years. I have covered it with umbrellas, sheets, and tablecloths, but it still gets sunburned. The flowers fade too quickly. It has grown spindly. I could either kill it outright or prune it way back and see if it survives.
A woman walking her dog by the house commented on it. I told her I hopes I hadn’t killed it by my merciless hacking. She said she’d watch it and if it lives, she’s hacking back her overgrown hydrangea next fall. That’s me: inspiring neighbors to bush cruelty.
I also cut the Rose of Sharon back quite a bit, the forsythia, and the mock orange. They aren’t as noticeable a hack job as the hydrangea that was five feet tall one day and less than three feet tall the next. Turn me loose with pruners and a saw…
I meant to do a blog on sprinklers, highlighting our eclectic collection, most of which we don’t actually use. I may still do that. It sounds like a wintertime post. Meanwhile, I am considering this post finished.
My oldest grandchild is coming for a week-long visit in just a little over a week from today. He wants to visit before he gets too busy with his Senior year of high school and basketball, and, I think, he wants to check out his mother’s alma mater. It’s hard to believe we will be driving to Newberg to tour the campus of George Fox University again: wasn’t it just yesterday that we made the trip with our daughter? I secretly hope our almost-18 year grandson will decide to attend college there instead of Anchorage. Sure, the latter is closer to his parents, but the former is closer to us.
Z’s arrival means I have to create space for him in our little house. The “spare bedroom” is now my studio and cluttered with what my husband refers to as “the detritus” of my later life career as an eccentric. I have sculptures, paintings, canvases, paints, sewing, and more stacked up waiting for cooler weather and my attention.
Gardening takes up the good weather season, and I have herbs hanging and drying up here as well. Herbs I have forgotten to label: sage, betony and bee balm, feverfew, self heal, horehound, peppermint, and nettle. I can smell the peppermint. The sage and horehound are easy: sage has a distinct aroma and horehound is also soft and grey. The feverfew is obvious with its white blooms as is the self heal with its purple ones. The bee balm and betony are probably the same, just one was labeled as “betony” and one was labeled as “bee balm” when I purchased the plants.
The nettle is the easiest to identify: despite being dry and the same color as the bee balm, nettle still retains a “sting” to its leaves. The sting isn’t close to what nettle feels like when it is alive and bare skin brushes against it; it is just an irritating little prick felt when stripping stems of leaves that soon disappears. I have more nettle than any other herb, mostly because I do not allow it to go to flower or seed: the plant I am growing is safe within the confines of a planter where one cannot accidentally brush up against it without protection.
Because, yes, I have experience with stinging nettle and it wasn’t pleasant. I once crawled on my hands and knees into a mess of it growing in an aspen grove on the side of Chocolate Mountain. The full-face effect was… well, stinging! (Why would I do such a stupid thing? We were at a large camp-out with many families, I was a preteen, I was probably hiding from a sibling, and I wasn’t thinking about the ever-present rattlesnake danger of my childhood in the high desert of Nevada. Maybe I was pursuing a garter snake? Or pretending to be a coyote or mountain lion. Who remembers such mundane details?
I remember the facial.
(Cover photo: Betony in Bloom) (All photos are mine unless otherwise noted. Just FYI)
I planted it many years ago. It never sprouted. Four years later, there was a tiny plant that looked suspiciously like a milkweed growing next to some peonies. I clipped a leaf off to see if it would ooze the sticky white sap that gives milkweed its name: it oozed. Excited, I let it grow. The milkweed plants are limited to a “triangle” between the garage and two sidewalks. I cut them down when the seed pods appear: I don’t need more plants. Also, I don’t want to wait another four years for the seeds to sprout when the plant does just fine by sending out runners from those very sturdy rhizomes.
I was afraid the milkweed would crowd out the peonies and the asters. It doesn’t. The three plants grow together happily. What the milkweed did affect was my arum, dracunculus vulgaris, or “Dragon Lily”. The milkweed runners take up the space the lily’s bulbs are in and I’ve slowly lost many plants in that tiny garden space. There are a few left and this fall I will dig them up and move them to a better location, free of water- and space- hogging competition.
Unfortunately, milkweed does nothing to impede the growth of grape hyacinth, I don’t think anything short of a heavy-duty herbicide affects grape hyacinth (and I refuse to go that route). Every year I pull several hundred bulbs out of the ground and compost them. (Sometimes, I will give them away to a desperate gardener who doesn’t know better than to start them in their yard. I’m pretty sure I’m digging up bulbs to send to my brother in Reno this fall. “Hey, Bro, your yard needs some early spring color. I promise you won’t hate me in ten years…”)
Now, when the first purple grape flowers begin to bloom, I do my first – and only – weeding of the space. I cut hyacinths for a bud vase. I toss the ones that pull up with the ever-present grass. I do my best to rid the space of grape hyacinth bulbs while enjoying the aroma and color. Of course, I fail and the hyacinth prevails.
In the Spring, I cut back the old stalks of peony and aster just as the first new stems begin to push their way skyward around the fading hyacinth. Purple stems of peonies, green stems of aster, the spotted stems of Dragon Lily rise above the fading green and brown stems of faded hyacinth. Buds form on the peonies and soon the area bursts with pink and red peonies so thick I have to tie them to stakes to keep them upright.
The peonies fade and drop their petals just as the aster and the milkweed stalks begin to mature. The green of the aster is first to top out at 2-3’ tall. Milkweed will soon tower over the asters and all one will see will be the green stalks of milkweed.
But before it does, at the end of May and always on our anniversary on the 7th of June, the aroma of rotten hamburger wafts in the air: the Dragon Lilies have opened. Flies and beetles rush in to await their demise in bowl of this carnivorous beauty. The smell lasts a couple days. The flowers wilt and the entire plant begins to wilt and turn yellow.
Now it is the milkweed’s turn.
I have two varieties: Showy milkweed (Asclepias speciosa – native to Oregon) with pink florets and California milkweed (A. Californica) with white florets. The latter isn’t a native to Oregon, and it doesn’t grow as prolifically as the Showy milkweed does, but the blooms are pretty and the aroma is the same: sweet and enticing, the polar opposite of the faded Dragon lily.
I planted milkweed thinking I could attract migrating Monarch butterflies. I didn’t know then that this part of the lower end of the Willamette Valley is not on the migratory path for these beautiful and endangered butterflies. No worries: the value blooming milkweed has for other pollinators outweigh my misplaced intentions. Every early bee, butterfly, and tiny wasp brave the sticky edges of the flowers to get at the pollen inside. Occasionally, a honeybee will get stuck and will have to struggle free. A few plants wilt and die, host to the milkweed beetle which does exist in this half of the valley.
Below the tall stems that now tower between four and six feet, a junco might build a ground nest. The nests are soft grass circles, now much larger than the palm of my hand. We won’t know there’s a nest there until a fledgling bird hops out of the cover while the parent birds hover nearby.
The bloom of milkweed lasts a couple weeks giving us quite a show of pink and white, and busy pollinator insects. But then the flowers fade and the few that were pollinated will start developing seed pods. These are green and soft, and quite edible if you are not allergic (I am). When the pods ripen, they turn brown and hard then pop open to release thousands of sees hanging from wispy “umbrellas”. The wind catches the seeds and like the dandelion – well, you know the rest of the story! The ground is soon covered in tiny, milkweed parachutes looking for a home.
But I mow down the milkweed, not simply to avoid the parachutes, but because the milkweed towers above the asters. And the asters put on a late show of color lasting through August and into September. The tall asters are a riot of magenta pink. The aster that grows in the crack in the sidewalk puts out lilac-colored flowers. The tiny bees – those mining bees and other ground dwellers – love the asters.
The milkweed is gone now, and I wait for that last eruption of color. Too soon, the rain will come and everything will turn brown. (Photo is of a year I did not cut down the milkweed stalks and the seeds flew everywhere.)
I don’t remember when I first planted oregano in my yard. We moved here in 2002 and I started carving out the “island” in 2003, so it was probably 21 years ago?
The “bed” of oregano has gone through some changes over the years: choked with that pesky grass, fenced off from dogs and to keep it upright, and it’s current incarnation that is 10x the original plant. I didn’t bother to rein it in this summer, but I did get rid of (most) of the pestilence grass.
We don’t purchase dried oregano in jars. Sometimes, I cut a handful of sprigs before it blooms, hang them upside down to dry, and scrape the dry leaves into an old jar that still has the original label on it: “Oregano”. We use it fresh during the spring and summer months when we can step outside and clip what we need off the plant. By Autumn it is fading and come winter, only dead stalks remain that I cut down and compost.
In spring, the cycle begins again.
I find new plants growing everywhere in the yard: oregano is self-seeding. I pull it with the other weeds, savoring the aroma as I do. I could allow it to grow everywhere and some day when I am too old to do my weeding by hand, that is probably what will happen: it will grow around the peonies, the rosemary, the lavenders, and the evening primroses.
I wouldn’t mind and the pollinators would certainly benefit from the profuse tiny purple blooms. I wonder what oregano honey tastes like? Some honeybee keeper must know: as soon as it begins to bloom, the bed is covered with honeybees and other pollinators.
Our dogs (one at a time over the years) will stand with their noses deep in the aroma, snapping at whatever bees they see. They get stung and jump back, shaking the head furiously before wading back in to snap at another bee. Our mantra is, “Leave the bees alone <Ruger, Murphy, Harvey, Sadie>!” They leave, but they always return to the scene of the crime.
I wonder if the bees taste like honey or like a good Italian dish spiced generously with oregano?
I have a surprising number of herbs growing in my garden, some wild and treated like weeds, some I have purchased with intention, and some that I purchased but didn’t have a clue they could be used medicinally or otherwise. I knew there were four herbs in the picture, but when I started looking up the different plants and uses, I discovered that ALL the plants around the fountain bird bath are useful herbs. I’m always learning new things in the garden and often kicking myself for the mistakes I make. But mistakes and learning are what make gardening an adventure!
As a side note: the plants in pots won’t always be leaning like that: we’re staining the deck and I had to move them temporarily. What we do for a photo op, right?
Bugleweed (Lycopus europeus) (Ajuga is another name). I bought the Bugleweed as a ground cover a couple decades ago and have been trying to get rid of it ever since. I had no idea it was an herb and had medicinal uses: hyperthyroidism, coughs, sleeplessness. I’m still on the fence about eradicating it entirely as a mistake or trying to fine a place where I want it to work its magic of crowding out other plants. It has a pretty blue/purple flower in the spring.
The tickweed (bidens)was purchased for color and length of blooming period. I’d never noticed them before at plant sales but when I was shopping for plants to put around the birdbath, it stood out for color and the fact it will bloom all summer, no dead-heading necessary. It apparently has seeds that cling to your pants like ticks cling to deer. I didn’t know that when I bought it, but it’s only one plant… Right? As an herb it has antibiotic properties. I probably will never use it.
Serbian bellflower (Campanula Poscharskyana). I just recently traded it out of a pot where it wasn’t doing well and put it in the ground by the birdbath. I learned the flowers are edible along with the leaves, making it more than just a pretty blue flower: it is a salad green! Of course it isn’t blooming right now, but maybe I can revive it! (The bloom is from another bellflower in the yard.)
Curry plant (Helichrysum italicum): We bought that for the aroma, the sage colored leaves, and the pretty flowers. Curry plant is not the same as the spice curry which is a blend of spices, but it smells like the spice. It has minimal uses in the kitchen as an edible as it only imparts a very light curry taste to food.
I purchased the blue hyssop (hyssopus officinalis) a few years ago thinking I would use the leaves in tea some day. It grows scraggly, rather like an English thyme, and the leaves are tiny like the thyme. I currently have some drying – not enough to make a cup of tea, but it is a start. It has little blue flowers and is a great addition to a pollinator garden. There are a variety of kitchen uses for this herb as well as the medicinal uses (hyssop is mentioned several times in the Bible as a “cleansing” herb). It can be used to treat ulcers, asthma, and head colds. It is a great antioxidant!
Wild Bergamot (Monarda fistulosa). Medicinal uses are antibacterial, antiviral, and anti-inflammatory. Culinary uses include teas and as a spice added to soups. It is also a pollinator plant and it is a native to North America. The bees and I are waiting for it to bloom.
Last is the Mystery Plant. I was looking for a ground cover at a garden sale and this one jumped out at me: it blooms all summer, giving me the color I want. So I bought it, brought it home, and discovered the identifying tag had been removed at the point of sale, presumably for the seller’s inventory purposes, but now I had no idea what I purchased! I had to wait for it to flower to key it out. “Mystery Plant” is Self Heal (prunella vulgaris) is also known as Heal All. You can use the leaves and flowers in salads or tea. It has much the same properties as the Blue Hyssop. Pretty all summer AND useful!
Finally, a disclaimer:
I do not know enough about herbs to encourage the reader to use them and as with any new thing you add to your diet or healing regimen, do so with caution. I am writing about these herbs as much to learn about them as to show off my garden. ALWAYS research first. And certainly don’t trust ME. I’m only in it for the pretty flowers.
I took a bit of a hiatus from blogging. It’s a mental health issue: I struggle with anxiety, sensitivity, and depression. Sometimes, no matter how wonderful life is, I get sidelined psychologically. Emotionally. Whatever – I simply get sidelined.
I have stayed busy, and I have not forgotten that I was going to write about my adventures in herbs next. I do think I will bounce back and forth between herbs and other things gardening, because I am just (re)learning about herbs and I have several other projects going on in the yard as well (hint: water features!).
To write about herbs, I need to revisit the past. I started out gardening with the intention of becoming an herbalist way back in the 1980’s. I’d just landscaped my first yard, a project that was more about digging out unwanted periwinkle overgrowth and discovering what was underneath that mat of ground cover than it was about actually designing a garden of flower beds. I was also a young mother, unemployed, and a volunteer at a local birth center. We were poor and heading deeply into debt, living on the edge of losing the first house we attempted to buy. Life comes at you hard.
We started attending a small Pentecostal church. The pastors and most of the congregation were our generation, so lots of little kids, nursery duty, and spiritual changes all happened at the same time. For the record, I hate nursery duty: I loved my kids but am not so fond of other people’s tots. You know how it goes: “from a distance and only when I can give them back to their rightful owner”. I never minded teaching Sunday School or Vacation Bible School with older children, but those little wobbly-legged creatures – and especially those that cannot walk yet – are cute from a distance but not when you have to care for them in a group.
The ”Church” frowned on a lot of things. The pastors were just coming out of legalism, but the tentacles of bad teaching were wrapped around a lot of hearts and minds. Herbalism equals witchcraft and witchcraft is bad. Witchcraft is Satanism. Heck, midwifery is bordering on witchcraft. I gave up volunteering at the birth center and I gave away my books on herbalism. I embraced the theology of the day. Eventually we split away from the whole movement and that’s a story in itself and one I am not going to tell, at least not now and not in this forum. I still have a lot of friends from those days and they weren’t all bad and cultish.
I – We – have been “unchurched” now for nearly fifteen years. My husband slipped out the door long before I did and I left reluctantly. There was no place for me without my husband. We were paying off the last of our bad debts, we’d moved into the house we live in currently, I was working full time, and our children were moving into adulthood. During that time period I landscaped my second yard. It was a full-on landscaping job but a very small trailer park yard.
I started working on this yard with all the energy of a much younger woman (twenty plus years can age a body). The last couple years, I have begun to look into growing herbs and becoming an herbalist after all. A dream deferred and now there’s time to work on it. I have the space, the time, and no critics to listen to. I’m in a different place spiritually although I would argue I am just as strong a Believer as I was then – I merely choose to follow a different path, a path I believe is one that God set before me. The garden path.
I never fully gave up on growing herbs. I’ve always had a few in the yard and I’ve frequently dried flowers and herbs somewhere in the house by hanging them from the ceiling in bunches. I’ve planted oregano, borage, lavender, rosemary, parsley, chervil, sage – all the culinary herbs. Now I am branching out into some of the medicinal herbs and the foraged herbs. I will attempt, over the next few posts, to elaborate on what herbs I am growing, some uses, and how I have used them (or intend to use them). Some are surprising to me, some I have always known, some are new, some are old, and some I have had to eradicate from my garden (comfrey comes to mind).
So – here’s a patch of oregano to spice your appetite and I promise to write again soon.
Oregano is basically a weed, IMO. A tasty bee-friendly weed, but a prolific and self-seeding one all the same.
Jaci Dawn 