Herb Garden

You know who you are, the one who loves the fresh clipped scent of parsley, and the bitter balance it gives to soup, potatoes, and well, anything that benefits from a bit of green.  Parsley comes in leaves that are flat, extremely curly and regular, each with a particular flavor to offer.  Parsley is my favorite, ubiquitous herb that punches up soup stock or adds color to the side of the plate.

I learned how to hold four chef's knives, two in each hand, in order to prep parsley during my life as a cook in a restaurant.  First you chop the bunch as minutely as possible, and then back and forth on the diagonal, scraping the pile together, turning the blades in opposite paths at each run.  Once minced, you then put it on a tea towel, a cotton kitchen towel, and wring as much green juice out as you can.  This keeps it dry to the touch, easy to garnish a plate, and prevents fast souring as a heated kitchen will do to anything.

Oh parsley!  Favored by swallowtail butterflies whose tiger striped caterpillars would be found amid the plentiful stalks, enough for everyone, come on in and share.  It can come back from year to year as it did in my Aunt Dory's back yard.  I was enchanted by the tiny patch of spontaneous parsley that grew at the far end, and loved to put a sprig next to my hot dog lunch, just so.  Made me feel citified.  Parsley is, therefore, a family tradition, and there is one brave straggle of living green left in my windowsill pot from last year.  I am nursing it through, but will just go to the grocer's or the farmer's market and pick up a new plant to start again.  Parsley is handy to have, even pull off a bit to chew on as you walk by to freshen yourself and outlook.

Besides parsley, another favorite is perennial sage, grey, mouse-eared, fuzzy sage.  The absolute fresh stuff smells like medicine, but add it wherever you want to taste medieval history, the American colonials, or the meadows and fields of summer.  Dried, it lasts through a bleak winter and revives when you roll the dried leaves in your palms, producing a fuzzed lint which dissolves and disperses in soup, or a concoction of vegetables with added bacon.  It's the main ingredient in that yellow box of seasoning with the turkey on the front, that adds not only to stuffing, but a decent turkey sandwich as well.

Basil will grow above your knees with plenty of sun and water, and well, do we have to talk about pesto?  Tomatoes?  Basilico (baz-luh-co), as my Sicilian neighbor Concettina called it, would be put in the glass jars when she canned her Roma tomatoes, or be a part of her foccacia.  Basil smells so nice when you brush by it, you can also put a few fresh leaves in hot water for a different sort of tea.

Chives are stubborn and determined.  They spread and come back in the same clump plus brothers and sisters for the rest of your life.  They grow well in a pot, happier in the ground.  You can grow the oniony sort, or the garlicky type.  Nothing bothers them, not even the neighborhood cats.

These are the easiest and to me, the most rewarding of the herbs.  Be careful of mint, if you grow it be prepared to surrender unless you plant it in a restricted area, preferably in a submerged pot that will contain the roots from traveling, choking out anything else.  But put a handful in a pitcher of iced tea, and all is forgiven.  Good in tabbouleh, Greek cooking, and also a nice plain, tummy-settling hot tea.
Oregano, thyme, and rosemary round out basic American recipes and are all perennials.  Bring home small pots from the farmer's market, and drop them in the ground or transplant them into larger pots.

I had a neighbor who loves growing stuff, and she loaded the back wooden porch of the apartment building with tomato plants, cukes, herbs, peppers, and loads of flowers. all in pots.  Successful!  I will have a few more pots on my own windowsill, for there are few more simple pleasures than gathering for the pot on the stove from what you have created.  It is creation, a kindness towards yourself, a hand that can pull you up after a long day, this gardening business.

Be kind to yourself, yes, bother with it, do not say "wait and see" or "maybe later".  Later was yesterday, and the pleasures will move you forward, even in the smallest manner.  Fight against any inertia, fight!  What?  What do I hear?  It is the call of parsley, sent by exuberant spring breezes and warm rains, sent by your favorite soup pot that cries itself to sleep for the sake of homegrown herbs.  Begin a tradition, congratulations on the ones you have.  Now get out there while the light of day shines on your innocent, sweet face.  Plant.  Water.  Grow.  One thing.  Engage life, you will not regret it.  


Here is a bit of interest: digging in the dirt, hiking, gardening, any outdoor activity that rouses dirt exposes you to Mycobacterium vaccae, a bacterium that cheers us up by releasing serotonin neurons in our brains.  Not only do you get to say howdy to horsetail worms (which are fascinating) and treehoppers, but you get a dose of good-for-you as well.  Plant lavender, bring the mature spikes into the house.  Oh, so much, so much.

Night is now here, and it is time for bed.  Last day of vacation, this Easter day, work begins again tomorrow.  I will check the cat's water bowls and feed the fish, put my bag by the door, and turn in.  Sleep well, sleep under the dark sky, the rotating heavens.  You are loved.  Good night.