I discovered from an early age that many herbs, from their most fragile days right up to their adult forms, are wonderfully resilient, fragrant and exceptionally copious in their giving - to the very end of their life. Their roots take care of the erosion of the soil, occupy the earthworms through the untangling of the plant’s under-earth meandering and through the sheer variety available, introduce myriad flavours to our food. The exact time my appreciation process began proper is impossible to say, though I suspect it is due in part to my sighting of the worms and the seeds within my grandmother’s backyard – let’s just say I had curious fingers forever seeking the roots of things! I scouted wherever a crack hairlined the concrete, or the paved brick chipped and grew mossy or a seam mismatched the beams supporting the base of the house, and found that parsley grew there. From the first snap of winter frost through and beyond the dewy smell of the first summer day, parsley darted from some of the most unexpected places and regressed to seed in its dying days. Because of its versatility and abundance, my grandmother maintained a love and a hatred for the common herb — a sentiment I also share.
I’ve learned recently that tending to a herb garden is all about the awakening of the seedling from its perfectly encapsulating pod, the teasing of the sapling to the sunshine and the careful shaping of the sinuewy stalk by plucking and twining. It all begins with the formidable potion prepared in your apothecary – a modest pot of soft earth and hard water - and the sunken seeds beneath the surface of the soil, eager for favourable growing conditions and the passing of time. If you love your food full of flavours, enjoy getting your hands dirty and are keen on meditative therapy on a shoestring budget, then growing your own herbs is definitely the the right way to go. Following my example through the blossoming, beautiful herbs of my garden showcased in this post, you are amply satsified to try for yourself.
A backyard is an enviable thing in this day in age: if you don’t have one, you wish you did, and if you do have one, it’s a case of always wanting bigger. But in truth, being too mindful of the size of the garden easily distracts you from making the best of the space available to you – and investing your time into the growing of herbs rather than the harbouring of hesitations!
I clearly remember my grandmother’s backyard as a crudely constructed trench of soil reaching a good two metres in depth and width, perpetually cooled and moistened by the shade and the crumbly clay and double-brick. The herbs grew wild and strong, vivid in their scent and colour and ambition for the sunshine. It was a routine for several Sundays in my childhood, to bring a pair of household scissors to the tendrils twined over the chickenwire mounted upon the wall and the bunches of seeds budding and swaying in the breeze. By the time the herb plant had gone to seed, my grandmother would remind me, it was time to give the plant a ’haircut’ nearly down to the roots of the plant – to encourage healthy and sustained growth throughout the transition of seasons.
I also clearly remember how terrified I was of the stream of the wind through the pipes, channeling through the windowpanes and lifting the corrugated iron sheets of the pergola like a delicate leaf of gold. It was within the herb garden that I came to understand the genesis of plants and the kingdom of small creatures dwelling within and above the soil. Like the unravelling of a great mystery after a long period of contemplation, I was awed; there was something innately appealing about the makeshift garden and all the qualities that made it memorable. The mortar that had been sloppily applied to bind the bricks together, the bitter peppery scent of the parsley and the aroma of the soil - a cloying cold, metallic wetness.
These days, without a backyard of my own, as an apartment-dweller, I don’t have the same luxury of the olden days to gather from the backyard everything in plenty and easily replenisible supply. This hasn’t stopped me, however, from growing and sharing everything I can within the space of my home and it also hasn’t stopped me from encouraging my family and friends to grow herbs of their own. There is a unique, enlivening experience in ‘reaping what you sow’ and a reminder of how even the biggest things have the humblest beginnings.
I’ll be very happy to document my success (or failure) in growing the latest addition to the family – petite marjoram – in a future post!
The Wild Thyme and Sweet Pea project found its roots when it was plucked excitedly from the garden, washed briskly in a basin of water and lovingly left out to dry in a soothing marinade of vision and ambition ... More »
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