Garden Experiments

Miles thought the inner section of the raised bed was just perfect for an afternoon snooze. Photo by R.A. Stockton

The solstice has come and gone, and we’re officially into summer. We’ve had a number of days with temps in the 90s already, and I must say the plants are enjoying this hot weather more than I am! Still, now that the garden has established itself a bit more, I’ve reflected back on the ups, downs and lessons learned from this first spring in the new house…from the comfort of the air-conditioned inside, of course.

Before our weather flipped nearly on a dime into this hot and dry summer, we slogged through a spring season that was late, wet and cold. Then we had a burst of lovely warmer weather in the early-middle part of May, which lulled many of us gardeners into a false sense of security that it was probably safe to start planting outside. I’m sure you see where I’m going with this, but sure enough, a late May cold snap did in some tender plants and weakened others. 

Minnesota weather, eh?  Uff da.

All in all, I was fairly fortunate, as my raised bed and containers were spared from the worst of the damaging high winds by the privacy fence surrounding the backyard and the bulk of the garage. Some of the herbs took a step back after that dip in temperatures, though, and I think it stunted the development of their root systems. I had to entirely replace a few basil plants and others I’ve had to support when they became top-heavy. After the last several weeks of consistently warm weather, most things do seem to be settling in and starting to flourish – knock on that wooden fence.

The previous owner’s chives came back this year! These at least I recognized right away. Photo by R.A. Stockton

First-Year Observations

As I mentioned in my last post, part of the excitement going into this season was that in so many ways, I really didn’t have a clue as to what I should expect: how dense would the tree coverage be? Would there be any established perennials? What is the soil quality like? I thought I’d share a few interesting things I’ve learned about the space thus far.

  1. The mature trees overhanging the house are a mixed blessing, even in ways i hadn’t anticipated.
  • On the up side: in addition to regulating the house’s inside temperature, they provide cool shade for early-morning herb harvests. Since the raised garden is on the western edge of the property and definitely in full sun during the afternoon, I appreciate that! 
  • The unexpected down side: obviously I knew their shade would limit how much and where I’d be able to grow, but I didn’t anticipate just how much the plants – even those distanced from the trees in full afternoon sun – would end up leaning towards the west. It’s made for some unbalanced plants and means that in places, despite my best efforts to plan the garden in a way that would give every plant enough space, there is some overlap that isn’t, well, ideal. 

2. I am very bad at identifying new plant growth by sight when I don’t know what was planted there. Epically bad. In my defense, this isn’t a skill I’ve spent much (read: any) time cultivating, but even I was surprised at just how clueless I was when a few perennials started showing up later this spring! Just one example, to illustrate my point yet salvage my pride. 

The front yard has a narrow flower bed alongside the fence on one side, and initially I assumed that it had been an annual bed when nothing even peeked through the surface by a week into May. So I purchased a mix of annuals and perennials to brighten up the space, at least for this year.

How surprised I was, then, when seemingly overnight the bed was filled with shoots of the same plant! I watched them for a few days, and I knew I recognized the leaf shape and patterns, but for the life of me I could not place them.

After a couple failed attempts with a plant identification app, I gave up and texted a snapshot to a horticulturally-talented friend. Her response was immediate: orange day lilies. OF COURSE! I knew I’d kick myself for not recognizing them, and sure enough, I did 🙂 . 

I won’t forget what day lilies look like anytime soon. Photo by R.A. Stockton

…In Which She Took the Lawn Service for Granted

Of course, alongside the cultivated plants, this is the first time in years that we’ve had a lawn that is our responsibility to maintain. One of the perks of the old townhome was that it had a huge corner lawn AND the homeowners association fees covered the lawn service! So while I couldn’t install my own garden beds, I always had a beautifully trimmed lawn and no weeds, and I never had to lift a finger. Talk about spoiled! 

Even with the maintenance work that comes along with it, I do appreciate having a lawn that’s actually ours. In fact, the trouble we’ve had so far is getting it to grow where we want it to, rather than keeping it from getting overgrown. From the listing photos, which were obviously taken in the fall, we knew there were patches in the backyard that would need some grass-growing TLC if we didn’t want the house continually slathered with muddy pawprints. 

To get through the summer season, we sowed the worst areas (like underneath the aforementioned shade trees) with a shade mix in May. To give the new grass a fighting chance, we fenced the areas with chicken wire to keep the dogs off. 

The results were…well, mixed. A good percentage of the grass sprouted, which was encouraging; it was certainly progress over last year, especially since we knew going into it that fall is the better time to plant new seed anyway. Unfortunately it wasn’t only grass that took hold quickly; quite a number of weeds and unidentified groundcover types took advantage of the fact that we were doing “no-mow May” to give the pollinators a leg up.

Part of me is a bit disappointed that we didn’t achieve a lush, beautiful lawn right away, but most of me – okay, probably the part of me that’s realized how much work it is to move, sell a house and get a new one in livable shape while holding down a full-time job – has accepted what we have for now. We certainly won’t have any lawn care companies knocking on our door asking to shoot a commercial, but what we’ve got meets our basic needs for the summer. So I’ve decided that if it’s green, generally holds the soil in place and keeps the majority of dirt off my dogs’ paws, I’m happy to let it grow there for this year. 

Elevation Matters

Finally, a word on weeds. Tenacious little buggers, aren’t they? 

The proclivity and resilience of the weeds everywhere – in containers, the raised bed, the rock beds – has been a bit of a surprise this year. Of course I expected them, but I’ve pulled more weeds out of my containers this year than any year previously, even though this year they do not sit directly under any trees as they did in the past. 

This is merely conjecture, but my initial guess is that it has a lot to do with the fact that this year they are sitting essentially on ground level, rather than on a second-story deck. In past years, I’ve pulled mostly tiny tree seedlings out of my herbs. This year, there have been a wider variety of “volunteers” crowding in, and I have a feeling that no-mow May, combined with a greater variety of creatures that can reach ground-level planters than could scale my deck, are contributing to the variety. 

Plucking stray greenery from the raised bed and containers isn’t a major hassle, but trying to prevent the rock gardens along the fences from becoming overrun is proving challenging. I pulled the first round by hand, but when they grew back so speedily I recognized that relying on elbow grease alone wasn’t going to cut it for the whole year. 

A corner of the rock garden that’s been oh-so-popular with weeds. Photo by R.A. Stockton

I confess that I did use a commercial weed killer on the rock beds farthest away from my garden, and the nice thing is that the regrowth has been minimal. I mixed up a homemade blend of white vinegar, salt and dish soap to treat the spots nearer to plants I do want to preserve or potentially consume, and it’s also been fairly effective at killing the weeds initially. It does take a lot more of the product to produce the same results, though, and while it’s still the more eco- and pocketbook-friendly option, I think I need to find a spray bottle with a kinder, gently trigger to save wear and tear on my digits! 

Are any of you also getting to know a new garden space this year? If so, I’d love to hear how it’s going! I’ll be back soon with, I hope, some successful early harvest stories! 

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Hello again, dear friends and readers! Contrary to what you may have (understandably!) surmised from my general social media absence and lack of blog posts for the last couple of months, I haven’t hopped on a ship departing the Grey Havens or boarded a Corellian freighter bound for the Outer Rim. Still, a bunch of ‘life’ has happened that’s demanded nearly all my time and attention, and I thank you for your patience.

Spring sunset gilds the leaves. Photo by R.A. Stockton

With that said, the exciting part of all this recent craziness is that (drumroll please)…I now actually have a yard! And a garden! That I can dig around in to my heart’s content! AMAZING!

That’s right; we bought a single-family home and are in the process of shifting our lives – and our all-too-numerous worldly belongings – a few miles north. Nothing drastic: still the same metro, same good ol’ Zone 4b, same late springs and early frosts; now just featuring greener commuting options.

Moving boxes = happy cats. Photo by R.A. Stockton

One of our main criteria for choosing a home, besides having a fenced yard for the dogs, was that it included the opportunity for a small garden. I wasn’t looking for anything extravagant or even for a large space. After all, one of the great things about herbs is that many of them don’t have to take up a great deal of room! 

It was a trying search in a miserable real estate market, but I truly feel that we landed where we’re supposed to be. This cozy Craftsman bungalow is challenging my creativity when it comes to storage space, but its character and charm win me over again every day. The backyard features a modest U-shaped raised bed and the option to expand in-ground garden space along the fences on both sides. 

I fully anticipate this first growing season to be one of experimentation as the space and I get to know each other, so I am limiting my harvest expectations. Still, even just the past few weeks have been a delight discovering the landscape and the resident plants whose home I’ve now joined. 

Gorgeous spring tulips – a lovely surprise to find blooming! Photo by R.A. Stockton

I look forward to sharing all kinds of updates with you; I’m sure I’ll be learning something every day, even if I do it the hard way. And rest assured: while I’ve been physically occupied with moving boxes (so…many…boxes…), my mind has kept itself occupied with numerous historical topics. So there will be more to come on the history side of Plants & Plantagenets as well – including an exciting announcement! Stay tuned!

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It’s late February in Minnesota, and as I write this, we’re getting another light snowfall that’s been slowly building up all afternoon. The average week’s temperatures are slowly moving away from the single digits (Fahrenheit), and the thoughts of even the most dour and curmudgeonly are starting to turn towards spring. 

I have to confess: I love winter. Really, I do. I’ve always been a cold-weather gal; I don’t care for the sweaty, humid days of midsummer, and I much prefer cozy, snowy days indoors and chilly outdoor excursions that end with hot chocolate and wood fires. Still, gardening has helped me appreciate and even look forward to the warmth and wonders of the growing season, which has added a beautiful and much-appreciated aspect to my yearly outlook!

So even as I savor and enjoy these fading days of winter, I’m indulging in daydreams of the summer’s gardens. Flipping through seed catalogs and dog-earing the pages with both old favorites and some new possibilities, I can nearly smell the fresh soil and see the tiny seedlings starting to break through the surface. That slow transition, emergence helps me adjust myself to the seasonal changes as well. 

Enough with the philosophical and on to the important part of this post: the new year’s plant lineup!

Planning for Plants

In some ways, planning for this season has been a bit more challenging than the past few have been, because it may be that I will have a bit more space to work with this year! (I won’t say too much now for fear of jinxing it, but be assured that I’ll share the details with you if/when they become more certain.) To stay on the safe and practical side, I’ve decided that I will proceed with planning as though I’ll have essentially the same space and planting options in 2022 as I’ve had before, and anything extra will be just a bonus that I can go crazy with later if it materializes. 

Inspiration, along with my seed box. Photo by R.A. Stockton.

With all that in mind, I started by identifying the varieties I’ve grown in past years that I’d like for sure to include in the new year’s garden. The ”challenge-slash-good-problem-to-have” with that approach is that as I grow as a gardener and have fewer attempted crop failures, I’m running short on available space to accommodate new types, but after last year’s relative success with seed-starting, I think I’ve got a better idea of how many seedlings I actually NEED for each plant. Knowing this means I can plan to have some extra space, rather than trying to use all the available soil to cram in the excess seedlings that I grew but didn’t truly need. 

From a historic and medicinal perspective, I’ll be leaning heavily again on calendula, borage, comfrey, plantain and lemon balm as my primary herbs. Rosemary and sage, my focus plants from last year, will pull double duty as both culinary and healing herbs, and lavender will round out the mix with the Phenomenal variety if I can find it. 

I intend to keep up a robust culinary garden in 2022, with the accompanying resolution that I will actually use more of the herbs I grow as fresh additions to dinners throughout the growing season. Some herbs I’ll dry and preserve for medicinal usage during the next cold season, but I want to intentionally enjoy more of those wonderful flavors when they’re at their peak!

Sorting through my stash. Photo by R.A. Stockton.

Retail Therapy, Garden-Style

I put in two seed orders this week. I added comfrey, longleaf plantain and comfrey seeds to my online baskets, as well as a different radish variety that I hope will flourish a bit better in the fickle early Minnesota spring conditions. Then, as those of you who also tend to let their imaginations run wild during these heady days of planning can appreciate, I managed to limit myself to replenishing seeds for my favorite crops and indulging in only two additional seed types! Skullcap and wood betony made the list this year for their nervine and analgesic properties, both of which are always welcome in my house. 

Okay…honestly, it was three new varieties if I include mullein, which I did grow a couple of years ago but wanted to try again with lessons learned from the last attempt. 

Well, four, but only if we also count the echinacea that I also attempted in the past with very limited success.  

Fine, it’s five with the “flashback mix” of calendula that I just couldn’t resist. These will be grown purely for their aesthetic contributions, though, not for their medicinal benefits; those purposes will be served by the radio and alpha varieties….

Sigh! I suppose I have to admit that maybe I didn’t do quite as well with limiting myself as I’d hoped, but I’m still optimistic that my plans are feasible! Armed with a better conceptualization of just how many seedlings I need (or don’t need!) for each plant to achieve the yield I’m aiming for, I’m hopeful that this year’s garden will be a strong and functional mix of the “old reliables” with some exciting new varieties to learn from. 

I’ll wrap this up for now and leave you all to your own dreams of the new gardening season. I will be back next month with more updates and hopefully some exciting seed starts! In the meantime, I’d love to hear about your garden plans in the comments! 

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Culinary herbs. Photo by R.A. Stockton.

It’s nearing the end of winter, and the new season’s seed catalogs are starting to pile up. I can’t wait to start plotting out my plans for the 2022 growing season, but this is always the time of year when I like to look back at last year’s efforts overall and take note of what worked and what didn’t. 

As I’ve mentioned previously, I had my best luck yet with starting seeds indoors. After some tweaking and definitely several lessons learned, I was pretty pleased with my setup and the results. In fact, I ended up with more viable seedlings than I truly needed, even after having to restart at least one tray due to my earlier mistakes. I’ll share more about my system when it gets time to assemble it again.

Spring seedlings 2021. Photo by R.A. Stockton.

I didn’t plan quite so well for a method to help the seedlings harden off, so in the end I let them spend a few days outside in a vinyl greenhouse but then threw them in their containers and wished them well. For the most part it worked okay, though perhaps some would have been sturdier plants if I’d truly taken the time and effort to take them in and out of the house each day. Noted for the next go-round! 

New Attractions

Each year, I like to try a few new varieties that I haven’t grown before. The mixed results I’ve gotten have helped me to view the gardening process as a learning experiment rather than defaulting to my habitual perfectionism, and while that is still an ongoing lesson (change is hard!), it does help me to enjoy the plants and not worry whether the time, money and energy expended was “worth” it. Finding worth in just the doing of it has been incredibly freeing! 

To talk specifics, I ended up with ten (!)  new varieties in 2021. I say “ended up with” because I had only made actual plans for five or six, but I definitely fell prey to impulse shopping during my annual plant sale excursion. (The Friends School Plant Sale is an amazing opportunity for anyone who’s within a reasonable distance of the Twin Cities, so if you aren’t already familiar with it, I highly recommend you check it out!) 

Shopping the Friends School Plant Sale, 7 May 2021. Photo by R.A. Stockton

The new-to-me plants I planned on adding to the garden last year had a fairly good success rate. I’ve already gone on at length about borage so I won’t rehash it all, but that was by far my favorite new friend. I’ve definitely added it to the permanent guest list. 

On an utter whim, I spotted a healthy, thriving catmint plant and added it to my cart. Heck, I thought, I’ve got cats; might as well get them something new to enjoy too! The catmint itself was a model container plant and I loved the purple spikey flowers through the summer. Anyone who knows cats will not be surprised, however, that as with so many things cat servants buy specifically for their feline masters, my kitties didn’t even give it a second look. At least it was pretty! 

I opted for miniature versions of veggies (cherry tomatoes and lunchbox bell peppers) and had better luck than with their full-sized cousins! Planting some basil and tomatoes together in the same large tub resulted in both performing better than in previous years. I never did quite identify the “sweet spot” for harvesting the mini peppers; perhaps I should have plucked them a bit earlier to encourage the plant to produce more, but I was very pleased with the taste. I would grow these again, but I’d like to learn more about them in the meantime so that I’m not hampering their growth. 

Cherry tomatoes, co-planted with basil, grew very well! Photo by R.A. Stockton

On the culinary side of things, I expanded to three types of thyme! Technically I had only intended to try two, French and English, to experiment with whether I could tell the difference and which I preferred. In the car on my way to the plant sale, though I listened to a plant-related podcast whose guest was enthusiastically singing the praises of lemon thyme and its versatility, so I thought, why not? 

Lemon thyme going strong in July. Don’t worry, I pruned it back right after this pic! Photo by R.A. Stockton.

All three grew well throughout the summer, but I must admit, dear reader, that I did not make enough of an intentional effort to compare the flavors of the European varieties to now be able to express a considered opinion. My suspicion is, given that my attempts at creativity in the kitchen are usually middling at best, either would suit nearly any need just fine. The lemon, however, added a lovely splash of brightness when I used it to fill out the greens in a batch of pesto!

Throwing shade…out the window

This is the juncture at which we switch to the experiments that didn’t go so well. I purchased seedlings of lady’s mantle, fuchsia and wild geraniums that were supposed to thrive in the shade. My growing area has become more and more shaded over the years as my yard’s tree cover increased, so I was excited to finally utilize that area with shade-loving plants! 

Sadly, as you’ve no doubt already guessed, none of them did well for more than a few weeks. The fault lies partly with me, as I wasn’t as attentive as I should have been in the early days while they were getting established, and the suburban wildlife enjoyed the lovely buffet I’d just created for them. Beyond that, I have a sneaking suspicion that their new home was too shady even for shade plants. Rest in peace, friends, and thank you for the lessons learned. 

My poor, ill-fated shade plants just after planting. Photo by R.A. Stockton

Returning crowd favorites

Turning from the utter failure of the shade garden, I had more success with the well-loved herbs I’d grown before. I still had seeds left over that I’d purchased for 2020, so despite mixed opinions from various garden experts about the extended viability of seeds over a year old, I started comfrey, plantain and yarrow under the grow lights. 

Plantain on 4 July 2021. Often treated as a weed, I cultivate it intentionally for its skin-healing properties. Photo by R.A. Stockton.

The comfrey and plantain came through strong, with plentiful leaves all summer that yielded more than enough for the herbal preparations I intended to make. I added the yarrow seedlings to the planters where a few volunteers were already springing up from the previous year, and they provided full foliage throughout the season. There was a marked decrease in flowering, though, on both the volunteers and the new additions. Fortunately, I still had enough yarrow tincture from 2020 to last through the winter. 

Flowering yarrow, 4 July 2021. Photo by R.A. Stockton

Focus plants

One thing I’ve learned about myself over three years of container herb gardening is that while I love having a wide variety of plants to observe, I can also easily get distracted and neglect the specific care needs of the less-hardy plants. To get better at this, I decided early in the year that I would choose a couple of “focus” plants, and I’d make a concerted effort to learn more about their care and create a better growing environment for them. I chose two of my favorite aromatic herbs: sage and rosemary. 

I’d read that rosemary can be tricky to start from seed, so I purchased a plant from the Friends Sale to give it a fighting chance. I grew my sage from seed, though I did have to restart them after a couple of weeks, as I learned valuable lessons about the delicate balance of light, heat and water the hard way. Fortunately, I had seven good seedlings ready when it came time to plant outdoors, so I was easily able to fill the allotted space. 

Rosemary waiting to be planted, 19 May 2021. Photo by R.A. Stockton

I knew rosemary prefers its soil to dry between waterings, while sage likes to keep its feet a bit damp. I’d gotten pretty good at that part during the previous season, but I was a bit daunted by how – and how often – to best prune each plant, so I did my research there. 

Lessons learned, skills grown

In the past, I’d felt intimidated by selecting the proper place and amount to harvest, but I went back to that learning mentality and decided to try my best and adjust as needed. I’d begun to build some confidence when pruning lavender and calendula, so I grabbed those shears and gave it a go. It seemed to work well, as I noticed both herbs quickly growing back fuller, so I continued to practice throughout the season. I had plenty for cooking meals throughout the summer, and I dried a good amount of both herbs for use over the winter months as well. 

Sage, 15 thriving on July 2021. Photo by R.A. Stockton.

Believe me, I realize that these little lessons are rudimentary and very basic to the practice of gardening, but they aren’t truly the point. What matters much more is the greater sense of comfort I’ve built in doing the best I can with new things, then being content with whatever happens. For a person whose tendency is to avoid new situations out of a fear of failure, this exercise has been very educational indeed! 

Next time….

The weeks are flying by, and it’s nearly time to make the yearly seed orders! What will make the list this year? Decisions, decisions! 

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Every year since I started these herb garden experiments, I’ve made it a point to grow at least one new plant or herb each season. (Granted, as this is only my third year, it hasn’t exactly been a taxing challenge to meet, but still.) Sometimes those new plant friends go on to be perennial favorites, like calendula and comfrey. Other times…well, it turns out not to be such a great fit for one reason or another, and if that plant could talk, I’m sure it would agree that our breakup was mutual. 

After something of a disappointing season in 2020 (that’s a whole separate post, but for now let’s just be honest: most things in 2020 were disappointing), I decided to pare things way down this time around. I chose just a couple of new-to-me plants and focused those early-season energies on having my first successful go at indoor seed starts. 

I couldn’t tell you anymore precisely why I selected the new herbs I did. I must have been inspired, though, when I landed on what I’d now call the biggest winner of the year:  borage. 

Borage plants, June 2021. Photo by R.A. Stockton

“Haaaaaaaaave you met Borage?” 

I never thought I’d end up as an herb’s wingwoman, but this summer I’ve been hyping up this particular one so often that I might as well adapt the classic How I Met Your Mother catchphrase. Let me introduce you to borage first, then I’ll rave some more about how much I’ve enjoyed growing it this year. 

Borago officinalis is a member of the Boraginaceae family, along with well-known ornamentals like heliotrope and forget-me-not. It is easily spotted by gorgeous blue star-shaped flowers with black anthers rising from the center in a conical shape. Those blooms have long been its hallmark; John Gerard, writing in the late 16th century, described them as “gallant blew floures, composed of five leaves apiece; out of the middle of which grow forth blacke threds joined in the top, and pointed like a broch or pyramide: the root is threddy.” 

Borage. Note the anthers in the center of each bloom and the stiff hairs along the stems. Photo by R.A. Stockton

Borage can grow up to three feet tall and two feet wide, and it is an aggressive self-spreader unless contained. Like its cousin comfrey, its stems and leaves wear stiff white hairs, so gardening gloves make interacting with both herbs more comfortable. 

Borage is native to the eastern Mediterranean, though it was widely used in Europe – and to a smaller extent in North America – as a medicinal and culinary herb. Read on for more on both of these uses, as well as an important cautionary “word to the wise.”

Borage as Traditional Healer

I first learned of borage during my research into plants that were historically used for medicinal purposes. Over the centuries, borage flowers, leaves and the oil from its seeds have been used to treat a variety of conditions.

The Consistent Mood-Booster

Most consistently, borage has been relied upon for its ability to lift spirits and promote cheerfulness. Ancient writers praised borage for its cheering effect on the disposition, and the plant was believed to bestow courage on warriors preparing for battle.  The entry in Gerard’s Herball referred back to Pliny, who called the herb “…Euphrosinum, because it maketh a man merry and joyfull: which thing also the old verse concerning Borage doth testifie: Ego Borago gaudia semper ago. I Borage bring alwaies courage.” 

A borage flower with blue petals edged in vivid pink. Photo by R.A. Stockton, 2021.

Internal and External Helper

Gerard described his contemporaries using borage in salads to improve mood, comfort sadness and combat depression. Nicholas Culpeper (1653) advised that a syrup made from borage would not only serve those same purposes, but that it would also fight fevers, jaundice and skin afflictions. Its mucilage would aid sore throats and soothe coughs, and if distilled in water, it would heal inflammations of the eye. 

Eyes and Ears

Culpeper was not the first to recognize borage as a treatment for eye afflictions. Hildegard von Bingen, a 12th century abbess and skilled herbalist, advised that a patient with diminished vision should regularly crush or break apart borage, apply it to a red silk cloth, and then tie the silk around the eyes overnight. She had a similar remedy for ringing in the ears that required borage juice and a silk of either green or white to be applied repeatedly to the neck and up to the ears. 

Pale pink borage blossoms. Photo by R.A. Stockton, 2021.

Modern Uses

Herbal Remedy

Elements of these historical treatments remain in use by modern herbalists even into the 21st century. Easley & Horne promote the depression-fighting properties of borage and recommend a flower essence to create “cheerful courage when facing adversity.” Matthew E. Wood lists a variety of conditions that borage may benefit, ranging from mental/emotional stress to inflamed eyes and from skin irritations to fevers. (Note: both sources caution against the risks associated with this herb, especially its internal usage, so please attend carefully to the warning included below.)

Culinary Delicacy

The borage plant gives off a pleasant, slightly sweet and refreshing aroma, and the flowers, leaves and stalks are edible. Its delicate flowers have a mild flavor that has been likened to cucumbers, which can be candied to decorate cakes or used as a colorful garnish in cocktails, and its young leaves can be used in salads. (Older leaves may cause irritation or discomfort due to those prickly hairs that develop as they mature.) As with medicinal preparations, culinary borage should be used fresh, as much is lost in the drying process. 

Star-shaped borage flowers. Photo by R.A. Stockton, 2021.

While these borage preparations certainly look and sound tempting, I must again warn you that not all experts consider it advisable to consume borage. If you choose to enjoy borage for more than its considerable visual appeal, please make note of the considerations below so that you can make informed decisions.

That “Word to the Wise” I Mentioned….

Borage shares more than just a prickly stem with its cousin, comfrey. Both plants, while traditionally consumed to treat internal concerns, are now known to contain a low level of toxicity that can cause damage to internal organs like the liver. Borage also has the potential to interfere with certain medications, and it should not be used if you are pregnant. 

This entry (https://www.webmd.com/vitamins/ai/ingredientmono-596/borage) from WebMD outlines some of the concerns about borage that you may wish to consider, but as always, you should consult a physician or trained herbalist before consuming. (As a friendly reminder, as stated hereI am neither a physician nor a trained herbalist, and all of the information provided in any of my articles is for informational purposes only!) 

And Now, A Bit of Fangirling

Enough with the academic stuff; as interesting as all of that is, none of it is why I enjoyed growing and getting to know borage this year. It’s also not why I’d recommend that you, dear friend and reader, consider including it in your future garden plans. So now let’s talk about the actual important stuff. 

Easy Indoor Start

Confession time: prior to this year, I never had success starting plants from seed. I’d given it halfhearted tries in the past, but I knew my setup wasn’t quite right, so the sprouts I did get were few and weak. Mostly I ended up sowing the seeds outdoors again and crossing my fingers for a better outcome there (great job little seedlings, you thrived despite my goof-ups). 

This spring, I made a bunch of needed upgrades and ended up with a proper seed-starting configuration. Still, given my past struggles, I was skeptically hesitant to get my hopes up. Borage came through for me with a massive self-esteem boost when within a few days, it became the first of my seeds to germinate! And wow, every single cell sprouted. 

They were also the fastest-growing of my lot for most of the spring; I had so much fun marveling at how much they’d grown every time I’d check in on them. I know how cheesy this sounds, but watching those borage seedlings take off totally renewed my enthusiasm and got me invested in making sure my other herbs and flowers made it, too. 

Baby seedlings, just transplanted outside! Borage in the 3 planters (terra cotta, grey & green) directly to the left of the white planter box.) May 24, 2021. Photo by R.A. Stockton.

Relaxed Outside Grower

My borage plants were champions when it came time for transplanting them outdoors, too. I’d started more seeds than I’d estimated would survive, to ensure I had at least a couple viable plants. By the time late May rolled around and frost season was finally over here, it turned out that I had a few too many plants for the containers I’d meant to use. 

Borage growing in a container, buds and leaves spotted with water droplets. Photo by R.A. Stockton, 2021.

So I stuck extra borage into any old, barely-holding-together pots I had and crammed them into bigger containers with more plants than would be recommended, yet they gave it a hearty go from the start! 

Charming Blooms

The next reason I loved growing borage this year sounds superficial, but we all enjoy the visual pleasures our gardens bring us, don’t we? Well, as it turns out, borage flowers are absolutely gorgeous

I described them above as an easily-recognizable method of identifying borage, but this is truly a case where a picture is worth a thousand words. (Since I’ve included many photos of the blooms from my garden, you can guess how many words I think could be expended in an attempt to adequately detail their appearance!) 

Shaped like 5-pointed stars, these delicate flowers range from light pink to varying shades of periwinkle blue, sometimes tinged with magenta around the central anthers. When the plant has many flowers in bloom at various stages of maturity, the spectrum of extraordinary pastels is stunning. Even when they’ve faded and fallen away, no unsightly wilted mess remains.

Borage flowers in a variety of colors, from pale pink to deep periwinkle. August 2021. Photo by R.A. Stockton.

Natural Resilience

By now you’ve probably gotten the (very fair!) impression that I’m not necessarily a green thumb by nature. Whatever success I have has more to do with research, acknowledging and catering to my limits, and frankly, luck. Even with the best of intentions, there have been many gardening lessons I’ve learned the hard way by experiencing failure and figuring out what I did wrong. 

The same happened with borage. I realized somewhat belatedly that I didn’t actually know whether borage needed pruning, or how to prune it, until several of my plants had gotten rather…scraggly and had stopped producing flowers.  I did some internet research but didn’t find quite what I was looking for, probably because most people with borage in their yard either let it grow naturally or just “know” through long familiarity with the plant.

Finally, I decided I had to give it a go, even without an official guide. Borage doesn’t have the easily-discernible pruning points that many herbs do; there are no obvious forks on the stem with visible new growth, signaling where a well-placed clip of the shears would encourage a fuller plant and another round of blooms. I crossed my fingers and did my best.

I still don’t know if my approach was the right one or not, but my borage certainly looked better after its haircut. It even bounced back enough to  have a few more rounds of flowers. So I suppose I should take note of the lesson and have enough confidence in the future to try something, anything, before the plants get out of hand.

Fresh borage flowers after my somewhat inexpert pruning attempt. Photo by R.A. Stockton, July 2021.

Êvolving Connection with the Garden

Speaking of lessons learned, borage also reminded me that gardening doesn’t always have to be about what and how much I’ve produced by the end of the season. I’ve had a sort of thought evolution on this topic over the past five years or so, which upon reflecting now, I find quite interesting. 

Initially, I gardened every year just for the sake of having pretty plants to enjoy and some visual interest to liven up the deck space. After several years of basically growing the same selection of familiar, low-maintenance annuals, I found myself envious of my friends’ impressive full-sized gardens and wishing I could grow something I could actually harvest. It felt like my container garden lacked a purpose, and my zeal to keep up with the annual tasks dwindled. 

My perspective changed a few years ago, when my interest was piqued as a result of some historical reading. I began researching the types of home remedies that women in centuries past, primarily the medieval and early modern periods, used to treat common ailments for family members, friends and neighbors. I was awed at the amount of herbal knowledge that had been gathered and passed down from mother to daughter for generations, and I began to wonder whether those medicinal plants were still commonly found today. 

As a result of my curiosity, I reinvented my garden to grow those herbs. For the first couple of seasons, I focused my efforts on producing enough plant material that I could then experiment with some simple historical remedies, like compresses, salves and tinctures. Each fall, I made new plans for what new plants and remedies to try the next year. 

Old favorite herbs, yarrow and calendula, with newcomer catmint. June 15, 2021. Photo by R.A. Stockton.

As much as I enjoyed those experiments, there were down sides to that approach as well. If I didn’t feel like I had enough preserved and saved at the end of the season, I’d get stressed, even though I am privileged enough to not need to rely on these items for my person or family health.  

I was still in that mindset for probably the first half of this season. Then, for a couple of weeks or so, I wasn’t able to spend much time caring for my plants, and the garden’s overall health suffered a decline. 

Borage flowers, picked and ready to preserve. Photo by R.A. Stockton, 2021.

I faced the distinct possibility that I wouldn’t have enough of certain herbs, borage included, to be able to make the products I’d planned. As overdramatic as it sounds, I felt like my efforts would be wasted and my season a failure.

Then about a week after I’d finally pruned the borage, it started coming back. Fresh new growth sprung from stems that had seemed spent, and new clusters of buds showed up like magic. It finally knocked enough sense back into my head that I realized something: if I spent all of my time focused on and worrying about what I would end up with at the end of the season, I’d miss the entire experience of watching these plants grow, thrive, then die or go dormant. I was missing the now, which was trying to teach me valuable lessons if I’d just pay attention! 

Deep bluish-purple borage flowers, with bright orange calendula blooms in the background. Photo by R.A. Stockton, 2021.

So the final reason I’ve loved having borage added to my garden this year is that it reminded me how important it is to be present in each moment. For that, I’m grateful to this tiny blue-flowered plant.

Sources and Further Reading

https://practicalselfreliance.com/borage-uses/

https://www.britannica.com/plant/Boraginaceae

https://www.illinoiswildflowers.info/weeds/plants/borage.htm

https://www.botanical.com/botanical/mgmh/b/borage66.html

https://www.encyclopedia.com/medicine/encyclopedias-almanacs-transcripts-and-maps/borage-oil

Gerard, J., & Woodward, M. (2015). CHAP. 123. Of Borage. In Gerard’s Herball (pp. 185–186). essay, The Noverre Press. 

Culpeper, N. (2018). Borage and Bugloss. In Culpeper’s English physician and complete herbal (pp. 90–91). essay, Forgotten Books. 

Von Bingen, H. (1998). CCI. BORAGE. In P. Throop (Trans.), Hildegard von bingen’s PHYSICA: The complete translation of her classic work on health and healing. essay, Healing Arts Press. 

Easley, T., & Horne, S. H. (2016). In The modern herbal dispensatory: A medicine-making guide. essay, North Atlantic Books. 

Wood, M. (2008). Borago officinalis. Borage. . In The EARTHWISE herbal, a complete guide to Old World medicinal plants (pp. 145–149). essay, North Atlantic Books. 

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Time for another periodic peek at this year’s garden experiment, and another opportunity to explore the influence of plants on human history. This blog is all about documenting and sharing things I learn and today, thanks to several Twitter posts by talented historians, I was prompted to do a bit of digging into the history of Lammas Day. (As always, I am not an expert, but rather a continual learner; any mistakes are solely my own!)

What is Lammas Day?

Traditionally celebrated on August 1 and observed in Scotland, Ireland, Northern Ireland, Wales, and England as a Christian holiday, Lammas Day celebrates the first grain harvest of the season. The term ‘Lammas’ (or ‘Loaf-Mass’) stems from the Old English ‘hlaf-mas,’ and medieval customs included baking a loaf from the first grain sheath harvested. The Celtic festival known as Lughnasadh also marked this early stage of the harvest season and celebrated the sun god, Lugh. 

Today, the names are often blended or used to denote a general harvest observance, though they have rich and distinct histories in each culture. By either name, these celebrations also mark the halfway point between the summer solstice and the autumnal equinox, making August 1 a cross-quarter day on the lunar calendar.  

Garden Status on Lammas Day

On this August 1, my garden (and much of the Midwest) has been suffering after several weeks of extremely hot, dry conditions. It’s been miserable for humans, and even the most sun-loving plants have felt the strain. I must also admit: due to circumstances of…well, life…I’ve had less time to spend taking care of the garden lately, so I take responsibility for the effects of the mild state of neglect I’ve left it in. In the past couple of days, the weather has cooled down a bit, so combined with more regular watering, things are generally springing back fairly well. 

Of course, my garden does not include any grains, so the bread-baking aspect of a traditional Lammas Day wasn’t an option. However, some sources I consulted today indicated that, in addition to grains, four herbs are also commonly harvested on this day: meadowsweet, mint, sunflower and calendula. 

Calendula

Calendula is one of my favorites; it was one of the very first medicinal herbs I grew. Now it is an old friend that I love to greet again each year, and its bright, cheerful blooms that proliferate during the sunniest days of summer seem tied to the sun itself. I can easily understand the association between its harvest and this holiday,, marking the start of the transition from midsummer’s sunny dominance into the season when the earth starts to prepare for its rest. 

This season, the calendula in my garden have bloomed continuously and well since late May. Since I have limited space and therefore only a relative few plants, I do my best to prune the flowers at their peak to encourage the plants to continue flowering. Preserving the flowers at this time also retains the highest levels of medicinal benefit for the preparations I’ll make with them later. 

I knew what I’d find when I went out to see the calendula today: since I hadn’t been diligent in pruning for the past couple of weeks, I knew many of the flowers would have gone to seed by this time. In some ways, I was disappointed; I missed the beauty of so many golden flowers all at once. At the same time, however, I prepped myself to look on the bright side of a less-than-ideal gardening situation, which is something I’ve been trying to do more consciously this year. 

Instead of seeing flowers missing petals and dried past the point of much medicinal value, I strove to value them as the seeds for next year’s crop; this year’s plants passing on their legacy to begin anew next spring. In past years, I haven’t let blooms go to seed if I could help it, preferring instead to amass what they could offer immediately. Of course, that resulted in the need to purchase brand new plants or seeds each season. This year, I’ve tried to take a more measured approach – one that means I can take what I need from this year’s crop to make needed preparations for myself, family and friends, but that also encourages the plant to fulfill its natural life cycle and leaves us room to grow together next year.

I’ll leave you tonight with these snapshots from today’s calendula visit. As you can see, I trimmed quite a few spent flowers, which I’ll allow to dry so that I can preserve those seeds for next spring. Despite the neglect these plants have suffered in the past week or two, they are still persevering with new blooms – and now that they’ve received a refreshing trim, I hope we’ll see still more lovely flowers in the waning days of summer. 

Calendula heads, ready to be dried for next year’s seeds
Still some summer beauty left
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I was always a city kid, but when you grow up in Nebraska and spend lots of summer vacations driving across various Midwestern states with an RV to see the sites and  visit family, you pick up an old farmer’s adage or two along the way. One that particularly stuck with me was this old saying, used to advise whether the corn crops were on track to have a good harvest by the fall:  the farmer should have corn that was “knee high by the Fourth of July.” 

I can’t tell why that one has stayed in my brain, other than that it’s particularly fun to say with an overly-exaggerated country drawl.  (Try it if you haven’t already – you’ll thank me for it.) It isn’t even useful advice anymore; from what I’ve read, advances in agricultural science and growing techniques mean that these days, most cornfields would have surpassed knee-height long before now. Still, a glance at my calendar this week brought it to mind, so an Independence Day garden check-in seemed like a darn good idea.  

(For the record: I’d initially planned to include more up-to-the-moment snapshots today, but we’ve had crazy winds over the past day or so and many of the plants are tilting and having, shall we say, bad leaf days.  I’ll have to share a full gallery once they’re recovered a bit!) 

2021 Growing Conditions To Date

Spring here was mostly cool and dry, with long stretches of grey days that didn’t actually bring much precipitation. After a winter with less-than-average snowfall and the absence of  any late-season (late March-April) last-gasp snowstorms, it’s been a struggle all season to keep appropriate moisture levels in the soil.  The state set several heat records in June as well, so it’s been rather crispy all around so far.

Background: This Season’s Crop 

As of this weekend, my plants have been in their containers outdoors for a full 6 weeks.  In hindsight, some of the hardier souls probably could have gone into the soil a bit earlier, but mid-May had seen such wild temperature fluctuations, including several dips to the mid-30s Fahrenheit, that I decided to play it safe.  Especially since I’d had greater success in starting seedlings indoors this year than I’d ever had before, I didn’t want to risk my plant babies! (More on lessons learned from indoor experiments at a later date.) 

Just getting them settled into their homes for the season. 5/24/21

Container Setup

As I mentioned in my previous “meet the garden” post, my suburban townhome situation means that my plants are container-dwellers.  I’ve gotten more skilled at the nuances of container growing over the seasons, which is good! There is a down side, however. The result of my increased confidence and expanding interests has been that the total volume of planters has also grown considerably, from a measly 11 little pots or so when I started, up to 45 this year. 

What’s the problem, you may ask? Well, we’ve always enjoyed using our deck for other things as well, like grilling meals, relaxing to read, and letting the pets out for some basking in the sun. After last year, the amount of room left to the rest of the non-plant family was quite limited, so I resolved to preserve some leisure space this year. 

I expanded my growing space this year by doubling the number of railing planters I set up on the deck’s edge.  This certainly has freed up some real estate on the deck floor, though I’ve been learning quickly what does and doesn’t work so well in that setup! I’ve also tried more companion planting, such as allowing a couple basil plants to grow between the tomatoes, and so far the experiment is working. 

June 12, 2021

My plants are loosely divided into a few different categories: medicinal herbs, vegetables, herbs primarily used for culinary purposes, and decorative flowers.  Let’s briefly check in with each.  

Medicinal Herbs

Getting some lovely early returns with the yarrow, calendula, comfrey, and chamomile!   

The winner of this category, leaves-down, has to be the borage! It’s my first year growing it, and I’ve been utterly amazed by how easy it was to grow from seed, how well it took off in the garden, how absolutely gorgeous the flowers are, and how much the bumblebees can’t stay away from it! It’s lovely to see little pollinator friends going from borage to calendula to yarrow to catnip and back again. I have it on good authority that these blooms also taste fantastic, but so far I’ve been saving and drying them for later medicinal use. I’ll have to try it soon, though!

Veggies

As part of the attempt to control the amount of space taken up by each type of plant this year, I decided to go “mini” with the vegetable plants. That is, rather than full-grown species, I opted for cherry tomatoes and lunchbox peppers.  I’d never come across lunchbox peppers before, but as you might imagine, they promise small, compact peppers that are perfect for a snack or a single-person side.  Worth a try in my book! 

So far, a few tiny green tomatoes have been spotted, along with a few blossoms on the pepper plants.  Stay tuned! 

Peppers and tomatoes and basil, oh my!

Culinary Herbs

In past years, I’ve struggled a bit with which way to prioritize herbs like sage, thyme, and oregano.  Great for herbal healing remedies, of course, but also lovely to have as fresh culinary ingredients! One of the things I’ve learned after a few seasons of growing herbs is that trying to do everything usually leads me absolutely nowhere, and I end the season feeling that I wasted opportunities and frustrated that I didn’t have enough preserved for either medicinal or culinary purposes over the winter.  

This year I changed my approach a bit.  I decided that I have a number of other herbs I’m growing purely for medicinal reasons, like plantain, calendula, yarrow and borage.  This year, I’d try to expand my focus with the kitchen herbs to using them exactly that way: fresh, as needed, in the kitchen.  Sounds like a minor adjustment, I know, but giving myself permission to use, enjoy and share them at their freshest has been downright liberating. 

They’re doing rather well this year, too, knock on wood.  I’d planned to share a picture of the mediterranean planter with you, but they’re looking a bit mushed-down at the moment after a good watering.  Soon, though! In the meantime, here’s a tiny glimpse of some lemon thyme…oh, and Llewelyn the Lesser, just for fun.  🙂 

Decorative Flowers

Finally, even though I really didn’t intend to grow any purely decorative flowers this year in order to reserve space, I did end up with two after all…and they’re so gorgeous, I’m truly glad I did.  

This pretty petunia was an impulse buy at a plant sale this spring, but I couldn’t resist those colors.  Unfortunately, it was in a section of unmarked misfits, so I don’t have details on its variety. Looks gorgeous amongst the other greenery, though!

Petunia, unknown variety, 2021

I’m so pleased that this snapdragon bloomed this year. I attempted to grow these seeds last season, but long story short, they didn’t germinate.  I tried again this year with the remaining seeds in the packet, and while only two plants were successful, just look at the stunning color of these blooms! (Territorial Seed Company, Potomac Sunset)

Snapdragon, Potomac Sunset, 2021

Thanks for taking this garden tour with me! Be back soon with more updates and plant bios!

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Welcome to the section of this site dedicated to real-life gardening and growing experiments!  I’ll be sharing progress updates throughout the growing season, lessons learned (sometimes the hard way), the logic – or lack thereof – behind some of my experimentation, and other interesting tidbits as I get to know some of our age-old herbal allies.

My garden is a bit atypical, though, so I’ll start by introducing you.

My Unique Kind of Garden

For years, I’ve been intrigued by the way that regular people kept themselves healthy centuries ago. I don’t mean that I study the history of formal medicine or developments in the expertise of physicians; those treatments were fine and good (well, sometimes) for the wealthier sort who had access to them and could afford their expenses. No, I’m talking about the remedies of common folks, the “everybody else,” who relied on generations’ worth of experimental knowledge of plants and their surrounding environment, and who depended on the healing properties found in nature to heal and preserve themselves. 

It’s important to note that I have no formal training in medicine or botany. Heck, I don’t even really have a green thumb! Yet despite my limited knowledge about plants and a sub-par natural ability to even tell them apart, I love the idea that these things growing wild around us have so much potential!  And frankly, I’m boggled by the fact that our ancestors figured out those medicinal properties without the benefit of modern science. I mean, who was the first person to, say, get a splinter in a finger, then look down at a funny green thing growing nearby and think “huh, I wonder if my hand would feel better if I tied those leaves around it?” (We won’t even think about what happened all the times when those experiments DIDN’T go well!) From our lofty modern-day perspective, shaped with the benefit of scientific knowledge, it’s easy for us to doubt those old folk remedies were anything but a placebo, but science has proven to us that these plants really do possess some of the abilities that our forerunners figured out. 

Comfrey leaves – very well could have helped with that splinter!

Making It Personal 

One day I found myself musing about what it must have been like to walk through a meadow or a forest, or down by a stream, and to not only recognize the plants I saw, but also to know what I could do with them to help myself or my family the next time we fell ill or were injured.  I imagined collecting those herbs and flowers and bark, taking them home and storing them carefully.  Then comes the most difficult, yet most intriguing, part to imagine: days or months down the road, reaching for those things I’d gathered, and mixing or combining or infusing them into a remedy that could reduce a fever or staunch bleeding or calm a queasy stomach.  How cool would that be? No wonder some believed there must have been magic involved! 

Then I thought: what if I could try it out? Not by foraging in ditches alongside Interstate 35 or digging down by the neighborhood pond, of course (remember my brown thumb? I’d ingest something poisonous for sure!). But what if I could grow a few safe herbs here at home, right alongside my ornamental flowers? It felt like a way to touch the past; by observing and tending the same plants that women have used for centuries, I thought I might understand just a little more about the experiences of those healers.

First calendula (Radio) of 2021

Diving Into Herbal History

As you might’ve guessed from the name of this site, my main historical interests lie in the medieval and early modern (think the Tudors/Renaissance) periods. So I started researching herbal and folk remedies from around 1100 AD onward, and I came up with a list of a few that seemed a) safe; and b) available in the midwestern United States.  Then I had to consider the growing conditions available to me, which limited my options and helped me keep my grandiose dreams a bit in check. 

Growing Area

When I say ‘garden,’ that’s a very generous description of the area I have to work with.  We live in a suburban townhome without an actual garden plot or a space to make one (thanks to some silly homeowners’ association rules), but the place does have a rather nice deck.  It’s not a massive size by any means, but it provides a pretty decent living space out there, and I’d enjoyed keeping a few containers of home-improvement-store flowers around the edges since we moved in. Still, I knew my herb garden would need to be container-based.

Containers galore

Keeping It Real…istic

The deck wasn’t the only limitation I had to consider.  We’re in hardiness zone 4, which in a nutshell translates to very cold winters, late spring frost dates and in general a fairly short growing season. Some of the medieval plants I initially considered just weren’t likely to thrive in this climate, or at least I had to seek out the hardier varieties as the “best-available” option. Take lavender, for example: while a French lavender is lovely and certainly would have been prized in its native growing area, I’ve opted for varieties like Munstead, which is better-equipped for the English climate, and Phenomenal, which has been bred specifically for success in even chillier regions like mine. 

Phenomenal lavender, 2021

Along those same vines – er, lines – many herbs and medicinal plants are perennials.  Even in Minnesota, they might have a decent chance at survival if planted in the ground, but suspended twelve feet in the air in containers exposed to the elements? That takes a tough plant indeed to survive beyond a season.  As my research advised, some herbs take more than one year to reach the point where their leaves/flowers/roots/what-have-you are viable to be used in medicinal preparations, so was there a purpose in even trying to grow them?  I’ll circle back to these considerations in a future post. 

Then there’s the elephant in every room:  money. As much as I wish I had an endless supply of cash to dedicate to expanding, protecting and improving my garden experiment, this was and remains my hobby (one of several, truth be told).  Expenditures every year, especially in the spring, have to be somewhat kept in check, as I’m sure many of you have also experienced.  As a result, I try to control costs where possible, and you won’t see me with a super-fancy setup or the prettiest pots.  Function over form all the way, and even then sometimes function has to limp along until I’m ready to invest in the upgrade!  

Last but by no means least, I’m a fur mama to two dogs and four mini panthers (okay, black cats), and their safety is a prime concern. The panthers are inside cats and the dogs are always supervised outside, yet I always consider a plant’s toxicity level to animals before including it in my garden plans. Does this mean I will never grow plants that could be dangerous if the pets were to get into them? Not necessarily, but it does mean that I remain aware of those plants that could cause discomfort or worse if ingested, I take steps to keep them out of reach, and I’m constantly vigilant when any of the animals are on the deck to make sure they aren’t sneaking nibbles.  

One of the supervised culprits at work! (Don’t worry, that’s just catnip she’s investigating.)

With all these aspects to consider, there are a lot of things I can’t do or try in my garden as it is.  That’s okay, though, because my real goals are still met.  

Goals – and Things that are Specifically NOT Goals 

Here’s one of those situations when a thing is easier to describe by starting with what it is NOT, before moving on to what it actually is.  We’ll start there.  

1.       This blog is NOT one of those fancy lifestyle blogs. (Let’s be honest, though; if you’re still reading at this point, you’ve likely already figured that out. Thanks for sticking with me.) I don’t have advice for you on the best way to make herbal vinegars that will clean your entire home while giving you the shiniest hair you’ve ever had in your life.  There are other blogs that probably CAN advise you there, and those blogs are great! Those things just aren’t part of my knowledge base or skillset at this time.  

2.       Along those same lines, I’m not out to have the coolest deck or the swankiest patio setup.  Again, not my forte, and I certainly won’t be entering (let alone winning) any contests for “most visually appealing garden setup.” 

3.       I will never claim to be a fantastic gardener, and frankly it isn’t my goal to become one. I garden because I enjoy it, and I garden in a way that fits my time and interests. Skill and expertise will grow with experience, so I don’t sweat it now.  

So what IS my goal with all of this?  

Simply put, my intention is to learn from and grow with the plants. 

Cheesy? Probably. The thing is, the more I research, choose, tend to, observe and preserve these plants, the more I learn about them, their preferences, what helps them thrive, and how plants and humans are dependent on each other. All of that circles back to gaining just that bit more understanding of the lives of the people who depended on these plants for their very lives in times past.  

So welcome to my garden! I hope you’ll enjoy following and learning along with me. I’ll be posting updates soon with this year’s progress! 

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