Lovely Lemongrass.

Saturday, I braved the back garden. The big kitchen garden. The overrun, weed-infested kitchen garden. The garden spitting out hot peppers faster than I can preserve them. The garden with spotty cucumber vines creeping from their beds and escaping their trellises to trip me in the paths. The garden with its initially pristine, perfectly planned herb beds, lovely little angel wings designs, now smothered with crab grass. 

Obviously, I've avoided the big kitchen garden for awhile.

Now that I've written those words, I suppose they're not absolutely true. I did clear out three beds recently for fall crops, adding transplants and seeds. But whenever I thought about tackling the front three beds, where the peppers and cucumbers continue to produce, I walked away. The beds might be ugly, but they're productive. And that's what matters.

Right?

But the herb beds needed attention. Desperately. Not only were the beds an eyesore, but I lost several plants under the carpet of weeds.

Literally lost.

I couldn't find them. Unsure whether they died or were hiding in shame because of their surroundings, I strengthened my resolve and set to work.

Today, my knees are not happy.

But, as I pruned and pulled, uncovering the design and freeing the plants and paths, I marveled at the surprises I found.

Holy lemongrass!

Now, I've grown lemongrass (Cymbopogon citratus) before—but it's never been this prolific. Obviously, it enjoyed my neglect, and I love it for its lack of neediness. I especially adore that it's embracing autumn, with the foliage changing from green to burgundy.

Next year, lemongrass may take center stage in the front yard, interplanted with ornamentals. The texture and autumn color provide a pretty backdrop for shorter perennials and annuals.

Plus, it's edible—and you know how I feel about incorporating edibles into the front yard! The sharp, citrus flavor of lemongrass is often used in Asian cooking. In fact, I feasted on delicious P.F. Chang lemongrass chicken dumplings last week, while waiting for the Toyota service department to finish the Prius' 5,000 mile check-up.

(A free service visit AND a lunch date with my hubby? Now, that's a good day!)

Besides its culinary appeal, lemongrass is used in the perfume industry. Cut a stalk, and you'll understand why. Lemony fragrance infuses the air around you. A relative of citronella, it's a natural mosquito repellent. Lemongrass is also heralded as a calming medicinal herb. Lemongrass tea is traditionally consumed to relieve stomachaches. It's also used to help alleviate cough, fevers, high blood pressure, and exhaustion.

Of course, if you plan to use lemongrass or any herbs medicinally, consult a healthcare practitioner.

I'm not a healthcare practitioner. I just want to gorge on lemongrass chicken dumplings.

How to Grow.

Lemongrass is very easy to grow. My lemongrass started as seed, germinating in the greenhouse last spring. Plant seeds in soilless seed starting mix, either in trays or pots, and keep the mix evenly moist. Do not allow the mix to dry out, but also be careful not to drown the seedling. Additionally, you'll want the soil temperature to be at least 60 degrees when propagating seeds. Transplant the seedling outside when all danger of frost is past. Because lemongrass is considered a tropical perennial, you'll need to overwinter it inside for zones less than 9; otherwise, consider it an annual in cooler climates. 

 

Can you see the tiny lemongrass seedling I planted in front of the middle bed this spring? 

Look at how tall and lush it grew--even with serious neglect. Now, that's my kind of plant!

Another method for growing lemongrass is root division. Propagate by digging the entire plant, dividing the roots into two or three pieces. Replant at the same depth as originally planted, trimming the leaves to three or four inches tall to reduce the amount of water lost through leaves.

Lemongrass requires full sun and rich, well-drained soil. Because lemongrass can grow up to five feet tall and four feet wide, space plants accordingly in the garden. Lemongrass can also be grown in containers, which makes it easier to move inside during winter. However, add a good organic, nitrogen-rich fertilizer, like diluted fish emulsion, to the container monthly. It will stink for a day, but lemongrass needs nitrogen.

While lemongrass is rarely bothered by pests, cats do like to snack on the leaves—and sometimes dig up the plants. However, Oreo and Sammy haven't bothered our lemongrass.

Yet.

How to Harvest.

Honestly, the first time I grew lemongrass—I had no idea how to harvest it. The stalk of the plant is used in cooking, while the leaves are used for tea. Cut the older outside stalks at the soil line. Wait to harvest until the plant is at least a foot tall and the stalks are approximately half an inch thick.  

When preparing lemongrass for culinary use, use the lower white portion of the stem. Finely slice the stem crosswise to avoid a tough, fibrous texture in the meal. You can also bruise the stem to release the flavor, adding the entire stalk to the dish, then removing it prior to serving. Stir fry, soup, Thai and Vietnamese dishes, pasta, fish, and veggies...all benefit from the addition of lemongrass. 

Lemongrass can be dried or frozen, but honestly—the scent and flavor of fresh lemongrass can't be beat. 

My hands smelled amazing after harvesting lemongrass.

Be warned, though—the leaves are sharp! I'm now sporting an inch-long paper-cut-like wound from a lemongrass leaf.

A lovely lemongrass recipe.

A million years ago, when Peter and I were honeymooners, we ate at a spectacular restaurant: Roy's Poipu Bar and Grill. Later, when I tried to learn to cook, I bought Roy's cookbook, Feasts from Hawaii. 

 

OK, maybe I bought it more for sentimental reasons than a practical get-a-dinner-on-the-table-during-the-school-week reference. Still, it's a gorgeous cookbook...with a delicious recipe incorporating lemongrass.

From Roy Yamaguchi's Feasts from Hawaii

Seared Lemongrass-Crusted Salmon with Watercress-Ginger Sauce

Lemongrass Crust:

2 tablespoons finely minced lemongrass

1 tablespoon minced garlic

1 tablespoon minced shallot

1 tablespoon minced ginger

1 tablespoon shichimi

4 salmon steaks, about 7 ounces each

¼ cup canola oil

Combine all the crust ingredients in a mixing bowl. Coat one side of the salmon with the crust mixture approximately 5 minutes before cooking.

Heat a large skillet over medium-high heat. Coat the crusted side of the salmon with the canola oil and sear, crusted side first, for about 1-1/2 minutes. Turn over and sear the other side for about 1 minute longer.

Watercress-Ginger Sauce

3 tablespoons chopped ginger

1 bunch watercress, leaves only

1 cup Beurre Blanc (see below)

To prepare the watercress-ginger sauce, squeeze the ginger in a garlic press and place the extracted juice (about 1 tablespoon) in a mixing bowl. Discard the ginger pulp. Bring a saucepan of water to a boil, remove from the heat, and blanch the watercress for about 15 seconds. Drain. Mince the watercress leaves and mix them with the ginger juice. Stir the watercress into the Beurre Blanc and keep warm.

Beurre Blanc:

½ cup white wine

2 teaspoons white wine vinegar

1 teaspoon fresh lemon juice

1 tablespoon minced shallots

2 tablespoons heavy cream

½ cup unsalted butter, chopped

¼ teaspoon salt

Freshly ground white pepper to taste

To prepare the Beurre Blanc:

Combine the wine, wine vinegar, lemon juice, and shallots in a saucepan and bring to a boil over medium-high heat. Reduce the liquid until it becomes syrupy. Add the cream, and reduce by half. Turn the heat to low and slowly add the butter, mixing carefully (do not whisk), until the butter is thoroughly mixed into liquid. Do not let the mixture boil—the ingredients will separate. Season with salt and pepper and strain through a fine sieve. Transfer to a double boiler and keep warm.

Garnish:

4 sprigs watercress

4 teaspoons red pickled ginger

To serve place a salmon steak, crusted side up, in the center of each plate and ladle the Watercress-Ginger Sauce around the salmon. Garnish with watercress sprigs and pickled ginger.

And there you have it...just your typical Monday night meal, infused with the delicious taste and aroma of your homegrown lemongrass.

Enjoy!

Julie

Herbs de Provence? Oui, merci!

Do you ever have one of those days? You know, the day where nothing happens according to your plan?

Today is definitely that day.

My plan for the morning involved sharing with you a recipe for Herbs de Provence.

It's heavenly. It's romantic. I mean, honestly—doesn't just saying “Herbs de Provence” transport you to a lavender field in—well, Provence?

Plus, it tastes delicious.

And I'm still going to share it with you.

But here's the thing: this morning, as I went to the garden to harvest the herbs I needed, I encountered a small problem.

Savory is MIA.

Now, I know our gardens are a bit...unruly. OK, they're jungle-like at the moment. The lemongrass towers over the thyme. The basil battles the rosemary for space. The sage is strangled by the oregano. Fighting through the herbs and weeds—and not finding the savory--I decided that it must be hidden. I moved vines, pulled weeds, looked under leaves.

Nothing.

I searched all four herb gardens...no savory. Either some critter decided to have a savory snack—or the competition in the garden got too fierce for its survival.

No problem. I decided to head over to a nearby nursery.

No savory.

OK, I went to a not-so-nearby nursery.

No savory.

I considered driving to a much-further-away nursery...but the sudden torrential downpour inspired me to stop by the grocery store instead.

No savory. I hoped for a fresh packet—but they didn't even have dried savory.

I came home, ate a handful of Lucky Charms (I know, it's disgusting), and decided this:

My Herbs de Provence will not include savory. But—the recipe I'm giving you will.

Honestly, if savory is going to be that difficult—well, then I'm going to boycott it. (However, I'm going to start some more from seed this afternoon.)

While I often preserve produce, I tend to neglect harvesting herbs to store. I'm spoiled, I suppose—I cut herbs as I need them for meals. Still, preparing a mix of some of our favorite herbs saves time, plus the flavor evolves as it ages.

Although Herbs de Provence sounds pretentious, it's really a simple blend of dried herbs typical to the Provence region of France. The blend can be used to flavor grilled foods, such as fish and meat, or added to vegetables and stews. You can also infuse oil with Herbs de Provence.

My herbs—minus the savory—are drying. I typically use fresh herbs when cooking, but the dried herbs will store well for up to six months.

Herbs de Provence

Adapted from The Complete Illustrated Book of Herbs

Ingredients

4 tablespoons dried rosemary leaves

3 tablespoons dried sweet marjoram leaves

2 tablespoons dried thyme leaves

3 tablespoons dried savory (if you can find it!)

2 tablespoons dried lavender flowers

1 teaspoon dried sage leaves

Crush the herbs using a mortar and pestle or large knife until very fine. Combine the herbs and place in an airtight jar. Store in a cool, dark location.

The best part of creating Herbs de Provence? Your hands smell divine for the rest of the day!

Enjoy!

XO ~

Julie (who is now going to plant more savory seeds)

Cool Companions.

It's September. And I swear, South Carolina is hotter now than in July. Yesterday, as I sprinted from the car to the grocery store through a downpour, I thought, ”Well, at least it will be a little cooler when this nasty weather lets up.” Instead, as I exited Publix, I hit a wall of heat and humidity so dense that I could barely breathe.

Seriously. I gasped for breath while loading bags into the car. And my hair looked lovely from the rain and humidity.

Today isn't much better. Our windows sport rivulets of water, the clash between outside heat and inside AC.

Thank goodness for AC.

So, although it's hard to get excited about planting a fall garden in a sauna, I'm forging ahead. 

Seeds that I planted last week are sprouting, but I'm a bit concerned about the lettuce. While I placed the trays of seeds on a shady greenhouse shelf, I fear that the intense heat cooked the seeds. I've moved the trays out of the greenhouse and plan to watch them for a few days, because lettuce sprouts pretty quickly. Otherwise, it's back to the trays to reseed. All ten varieties.

Yeesh.

Whether your fall garden will include seeds you started using this guide, or if you decide to purchase transplants or direct seed, you need a plan.

How will you organize your garden? And how will you prevent pests from snacking on your crops?

Why, you'll embrace companion planting, of course.

Many people think of organic gardening as simply the avoidance of chemicals—or the use of OMRI approved chemicals—in the garden. However, companion planting is a main premise in organic gardening.

Companion planting involves growing different species of plants together to benefit one or both. Rather than planting a monoculture, mixed plantings attract beneficial insects, deter pests, and boost soil health to produce better harvests.

For instance, aromatic herbs like rosemary mask the scent of a crop from pests. Some plants, like mint, produce odors that deter or confuse pests. Other plants, like parsley, serve as a trap crop, drawing insects away from the main crop. Strategic companion planting can aid in pollination, with plants providing food to sustain beneficial insects. Companion plants can also create a habitat for predatory insects that feed on pests.

I often use companion planting in the spring and summer gardens, and probably one of the most widely-known pairings is basil grown with tomatoes. This summer, though, I tried a new companion planting: icicle radishes planted among squash to combat squash vine borers. After losing all of the squash plants last year, I was skeptical.

Guess what? I'm still harvesting squash.

Needless to say, I'm a believer in companion planting!

Based on the summer success, I'm planning our fall gardens to include companions. Cool weather crops can benefit from strategic, well-designed companion plantings, particularly as many of the cool crops belong to the same family: brassica.

And cabbage worms love brassica.

Cabbage worms are sneaky. And destructive. And very difficult to locate. Companion plantings help deter these nasty creatures. (But still, we need to be vigilant. Check the undersides of leaves and stems regularly.)

To save you a bit of time when planning your fall garden, I've compiled a list of cool weather crops and good companions to plant along with them:

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Crop	Companion	Notes
Beets	Onions, kohlrabi, lettuce, cabbage, garlic, mint	Garlic improves growth and flavor. Mint attracts beneficial insects.
Broccoli	Aromatic plants, dill, celery, chamomile, sage, peppermint, rosemary, potatoes, beets, onion	Aromatic plants deter cabbage aphids, cabbage worms, flea beetles. Celery, onions, and potatoes improve broccoli's flavor.
Brussels Sprouts	Aromatic plants, celery, dill, chamomile, sage, mint, rosemary, hyssop, thyme, wormwood, onions, potatoes	Aromatic plants deter cabbage worm, cabbage aphids, cabbage whitefly.
Cabbage	Aromatic plants, celery, dill, chamomile, sage, mint, rosemary, hyssop, thyme, wormwood, onions, potatoes	Aromatic plants deter cabbage worm. Sage repels cabbage flies, cabbage looper, cabbage maggot. Chamomile and dill improve growth and flavor of cabbage.
Carrots	Chives, onions, leeks, parsley, aromatic plants, rosemary, wormwood, sage	Parsley repels carrot fly. Wormwood planted around border repels animals. Chives improve growth and flavor.
Cauliflower	Celery	Deters white cabbage butterfly, cabbage worm.
Fruit trees	Chives	Plant around base of fruit trees to discourage insects from climbing trees.
Kale	Cabbage, potatoes, aromatic plants	Aromatic plants repel cabbage fly, cabbage worms
Kohlrabi	Onions, leeks, aromatic plants	Aromatic plants repel flea beetle, cabbage root fly, aphids
Leeks	Celery, onions, carrots	Celery improves growth and flavor. Leeks repel carrot fly.
Lettuce	Onions, strawberries, carrots, radishes, aromatic plants	Onions and aromatic herbs deter slugs.
Onions	Cabbage, beets, strawberries, lettuce, chamomile	Do not plant with peas or beans. Chamomile improves growth and flavor.
Peas	Carrots, turnips, radishes, mint	Do not plant with onions or garlic. Mint improves health and flavor.
Radishes	Beets, spinach, kohlrabi, lettuce	Lettuce makes radishes more tender.
Spinach	Strawberries, peas	Peas provide shade for spinach.
Swiss Chard	Beans, cabbage, onions	Aromatic plants repel beet leaf miner. Chard grown near companion helps keep moisture in soil.

Additionally, several aromatic herbs provide a wide variety of benefits as companion plants:

Chamomile: Improves the growth and flavor of cabbage, deters pests.

Chives: Improves growth and flavor of carrots, deters pests.

Garlic: Prevent borers of fruit trees.

Hyssop: Increases yield of grape vines, lures away cabbage butterfly. Bees are attracted to hyssop, but many pests are repelled by it.

Mint: Improves health and flavor of cabbage, deters white cabbage worm by repelling egg-laying butterflies. Spearmint repels ants and helps deter aphids. NOTE: Mint can be very invasive! Plant in a container to include in the garden.

Oregano: Repels cabbage butterfly.

Rosemary: Deters bean beetle, cabbage moth, carrot fly.

Sage: Repels cabbage flies, carrot flies, black flea beetle, cabbage looper, cabbage maggot.

Thyme: Deters cabbage worm, white fly.

Wormwood: Repels animals in the garden when used as a border. Repels moths, flea beetles, and cabbageworm butterfly.

So, now we're ready. With our companion planting table in hand, we can plan our best fall gardens.

And hopefully, we'll spend more time planning delicious dinners than culling cabbage worms.

Now, if only the weather would cooperate...

Happy gardening!

XO ~

Julie

Reposted to Farm Girl Friday Blog Fest.

Conquering Mulch Mountain...Who Really Won?

I love mulch.

I'm one of those odd people who gets ridiculously excited about the prospect of freshly spread mulch.

I love ordering it. “Double ground hardwood, please”--even though, after all of these years of using the same local company—I still can't understand the super nice owner's extreme southern drawl.

Sometimes, I wonder exactly what I've agreed to after talking with him.

The kids love mulch. As soon as the truck dumps the mulch, the kids fly outside to Mulch Mountain—where they climb, slide, dig, and generally wreck havoc on the mulch and each other.

Our oldest son is not quite as enthusiastic. He was summoned home from college this weekend to help spread mulch. Well, actually, he's the fill-the-wheelbarrow-and-dump guy.

Don't feel too sorry for him. He was well-fed. And he earned much praise, because he really makes the process so much easier.

I love the aesthetics of mulch. So clean, so fresh. I love the smell of mulch, although my 6-year-old said it smelled like something died outside. More importantly, I love the organic benefits of mulch. Water retention. Weed control. Increased soil health as the mulch decomposes.

The only glitch with mulching is...perennials. Everywhere. This is the problem if you wait too late to spread mulch. You can kiss the rake goodbye.

It's hand-mulching time.

Yes, for two straight days, I filled tubs with mulch and carefully, carefully, dressed the perennials by hand.

Two days. From early morning until last light—which is now about 8 p.m.—I knelt, squatted, pliéd, and bent in awkward positions to mulch my babies.

And I hurt.

A lot.

But it was worth it.

Look! Look! See what I did! (Please pretend you don't see the dandelion in the corner. Thank you.)

Even Sammy enjoys the new mulch.

Now, I know I'm not the only gardener in the throws of heavy lifting, bending, and stretching in the efforts to ready the garden for the season ahead. I just hope you are more fit and less achy than I am. Perhaps you even stretch and such before you begin gardening each day.

However, in case you, too, are feeling less than spry after your gardening work, I have a treat for you.

It will make you happy.

It's a bath.

I rarely take a bath. The idea of a bath is delicious. Soaking, peacefully, in a steamy tub sounds like bliss.

However, I'm a mom.

The minute I contemplate a bath, everyone needs something.

Right. Now.

“MOOOOM!”

You probably are too familiar with this scenario. It just isn't worth it.

Most of the time.

As sore as I am, though, a bath is a medical necessity.

So, my friends, I'm sharing with you a lovely recipe for a bath, borrowed from Amy Stewart's charming book, From the Ground Up: The Story of a First Garden. Have you read her memoir? If not, I highly recommend you take it with you to the tub, read about her adventures as a first-time gardener, and just soak. Both your body and your spirit will be nicely rejuvenated after your bath, and you'll be ready for another day in the garden.

Gardener's Bath

1 cup oatmeal

¼ cup baking soda

¼ cup powdered whole-milk

Herbs (the recipe calls for dried herbs, but I've cut fresh lavender, rosemary, and lemon balm to add to the bath. Mint, comfrey, rose petals, and chamomile are also options.)

Blend ingredients together in a food processor or blender until you have a fine powder. The oats ease itchy skin, and the fat in whole-milk powder moisturizes, while the lactic acid gently exfoliates. Baking soda helps soften the skin and also relieves itch.

In her book, Amy sprinkles the blend directly in the bath. Instead, you could also minimize the post-bath clean-up by putting the blend in a fine mesh bag, such as a lingerie laundry bag, and letting it soak in the tub under the faucet to release the aroma.

Relax and enjoy!

XO ~

Julie

And she emerged from the greenhouse in time for...Garden Bloggers' Bloom Day!

Whew...I've barely made it! I've lived in the greenhouse during the past few weeks, potting up thousands of heirloom tomatoes, peppers, herbs, and flowers. My brain is--quite literally-- fried after our unexpected jump from winter to summer (high temps in the mid-80s today, which of course means it's well over 100 degrees in the greenhouse, even with three fans on full power.)

Today, though, I'm doing the happiest of dances, because...

I'm DONE!!!

Yes, all the itty bitty green babies are nestled safely in their OMRI certified biodegradable pots, surrounded by lovely organic soil, awaiting tomorrow's feeding of fish emulsion.

My neighbors will hate us for the next day or two.

The neighborhood cats, however, will be lining up outside the greenhouse. As much as my green babies love fish emulsion, it's the one element in the process that kills me a little bit. It just lingers, no matter how often I shower. It overwhelms my sense of smell, and I think I smell like rotten fish for days. Phew.

But that's a task for tomorrow.

Today, after I watered the last newly planted tray, I drank a celebratory Diet Coke, grabbed my camera, and took a quick walk around the gardens.

The hardest part of owning a small nursery is that I miss the best time of the year—spring. I'm so consumed with starting seeds that I forget why I started gardening in the first place—to enjoy the magic of the first blooms of the season. Even though today is hectic—work, kids' horseback lessons, errands—I'm so grateful for May Dreams Gardens for hosting Garden Bloggers' Bloom Day. It forces me to stop for a few moments and enjoy what's happening in the gardens.

And—oh my. What a crazy plant party is going on!

Edibles! Ornamentals! Medicinals! Oh my!

The overwhelming theme, though, is—weeds. Eek! And mulch—needed ASAP! And—where did all of those leaves come from? I vividly remember hauling ten billion leaves out of the beds this fall. Yeesh.

So, if you'd be so kind to overlook the random weeds that crept into the photos, and search carefully under the bed of leaves...you'll find what's blooming and growing in our garden.

Let's start with the pretties:

Daphne. Last Bloom Day, I raved about my neighbor's daphne. Now, I have two pots to call my own.

And it is heavenly.

Tra la! It's almost spring! Five more days, and it's official! Our daffodils, though, are almost gone, except for a few...plus the other hundred or so that I planted about a month ago. (I know, I know...I was overzealous last fall and seriously over-ordered bulbs. Twelve-hundred bulbs, to be exact. I still have a few boxes that I'm going to plant to see what happens. Curse those 40% off sales.)

But these Ziva paperwhites were from that order, and they are now gracing the path to the small greenhouse. 

Totally worth it.

And these tulips, too, somehow had the stamina to endure weeks (months) of dark to be planted a mere six weeks ago...

And then there are the cherries...

This is my daughter's birthday tree. We planted it when she was born.

She'll be 11 on April 2.

I'm teary, just thinking about it. (You can see her through the years with her tree here.)

Can I tell you, my tomboy, chicken-loving, horse crazy girl had to change outfits, fix her hair, and put on lip gloss before we went to Barnes and Noble last night?

I'm dying. I need to stop time and keep her little.

 

One of my favorite additions to the garden is the weeping cherry. 

The chickens enjoy it, too.

The viburnum is ready to pop. I've never seen it so full of potential blooms.

And the forsythia...finally, all of the bushes in the front, back garden and forest are filled with cheerfulness. Even the bushes our pups chewed last year recuperated and are blooming like mad. Nothing announces spring like forsythia blossoms.

I even cut some to bring inside this year. 

The hellebores continue to amaze...more and more keep popping up all over the gardens, which is fabulous because we have so much shade. And--I just discovered a nursery that specializes in amazing hellebores. Don't tell my husband, but I think I need some online retail therapy. 

(You know, he reads my blog. I think he's even a fan. This is just my subtle way of letting him know that I'm ordering a few plants...) 

Just a few. Not 1,200.

This camellia makes me think of brides...lovely, blushing brides. Or sweet, itty bitty baby girls who don't care about lip gloss. 

Crazy--even the coreopsis is blooming.

My favorite perennial is peeking out from the leaves. Truly, is there anything as gorgeous as a bleeding heart? 

In the back tiered beds by the pool, coral bells are emerging...

 ...and the creeping phlox popped a few blooms.

Ferns fill our shady gardens, and I adore watching the fiddleheads emerge.

Woodland violets...scattered throughout the forest.

Tea Olives with new growth and tiny blooms...

Pieris Japonica...which I used to abhor and now adore.

I've always much preferred spring flowers like columbine compared to imposing, in-your-face shrubbery...

The blooms are darling and the leaves are lovely on their own.

Then, yummy: Edibles!

In my opinion, most edibles are as gorgeous as any ornamental--with the added value of deliciousness! 

"This is the dawning of the Age of Asparagus, the Age of Asparagus..."

Future blueberry pie!

Divine Fraise des Bois! We'll never have a pie from them, but they are the most scrumptious treat imaginable. I've planted them in containers, in the forest, as borders...they are beautiful, evergreen, and mouthwatering.

Swiss Chard is still going strong...and is about to become a frittata tomorrow.

Peas are beginning to peak out...

This year, I'm growing eight varieties of garlic, plus shallots and onions, in grow bags and containers. So far, the results look promising.

I am, of course, in dire need of getting the big garden and potager cleaned up and planted. You know what they say about the shoemaker's children? Well, that's the same as the trials of the nursery owner's gardens. 

Finally, herbalicious:

I'm honestly in awe of this little raised bed that I planted to showcase medicinal herbs. Now, I'm not an herbalist, but I do have herbalists who request that I grow specific plants for them. I'm fascinated by the history of herbal cures. In fact, I attended an organic growers' workshop this past weekend, with a tract dedicated to medicinal herb usage. I was so excited to learn about how to use mugwort and tansy, wormwood and clary sage.

It was so disappointing.

However, when I looked at the herb gardens today, I was far from disappointed. In fact, I was amazed by the growth:

 Pennyroyal

Valerian

 Wormwood

Clary Sage

 Feverfew

 Self-Heal

Wood Betony

 

 Roman Chamomile

Horehound

 Tansy

Still, I have a shelf of books devoted to herbs, so I'm going to keep reading and learning. Will I ever treat my kids with an herbal concoction I brew in the kitchen?

Probably not.

But I think I'm brave enough to make lemon balm tea. Just brushing the dead leaves away from the lemon balm left the most delicious fragrance on my fingers.

Bliss.

Thank you, May Dreams Gardens, for reminding me to get outside and enjoy the blooms. I'm looking forward to virtually visiting the other garden bloggers' spring gardens!

Happy almost-spring!

XO ~

Julie