Action on the ground, not on the web

It is not easy to keep a web log up to date. Life happens instead. The tarragon struggled through the winter and survived to be placed outside in the spring, but it was never healthy, and a nest of fruit flies or fungus flies infested the soil. A constant small cloud of the little bugs was always near the plant.

Other things do better. Basil has been thriving in the greenhouse, and while it has bolted to seed in the heat of August, a new planting is taking off. As the weather cools, it should begin to produce.

Dill continues to volunteer throughout the garden, though more sparsely than last year. Much of what I initially thought to be dill turned out to be cosmos instead. Pretty, but surprising.

A late planting of Parsley is starting to develop to harvestable size, but it was slow to germinate and is now shaded by a zucchini and a crooked neck squash. I had expected it to grow and be used and gone before the squash and zucchini grew large enough to shade it.

A pot containing an Aloe Vera does well after it was taken out of the rich potting soil and repotted in plain old garden dirt. Probably this would have been good for the Tarragon as well.

I have found a seed source, Botanical Interests, whose seed packets are beautifully illustrated with watercolor paintings. The interior of the seed packets is printed with detailed information about the plant. Not just herbs but garden vegetables too.

French Tarragon

I ordered a small potted French Tarragon from Gurneys in February but it did not arrive until last week. Except for fruit trees, this is my first experience with mail ordered live plants. I expected to receive a small plant in March, not realizing that the shipment of live plants in winter is not done. Even if protected from freezing in transit, the plant would likely not survive waiting on the front porch through the day of delivery. Be that as it may, the plant arrived in good health on Thursday and I re potted it Saturday morning.

There are several varieties of tarragon. I have seen "Texas" and "Russian" tarragon as well as French Tarragon. My neighbor grew "Texas" last year and I used some in a recipe one day, but did not think it had any flavor at all.

In her book The Garden Primer, Barbara Damrosch states that if you see tarragon seed, it's not the right kind of tarragon. Seed is readily available for Texas and Russian, but only the French has real culinary value, and it cannot be reliably grown from seed. Instead, French Tarragon is grown from divisions made in the spring, or cuttings taken in the fall.

Tarragon's binomial name is Artemisia dracunculus. The genus Artemesia contains a number of herbs associated with witchcraft and medicine as well as culinary use. Some, including Wormwood, Southernwood and Mugwort were believed to enhance psychic powers. Wormwood (Artemisia absinthium) for example, used in the preparation of the liqueur Absinthe and the fortified wine Vermouth, is widely believed to have hallucinogenic properties.

Confusingly, the species name, dracunculus, is also a genus of lily, which includes the plant known as Dragon's Wort. Tarragon itself is sometimes called Dragon Herb.

Tarragon is a common element in French cooking, used to flavor poultry and eggs, stocks, sauces, vinegars, and olive oil. It is one of the components of "fines herbs" and a critical ingredient in Bearnaise sauce. For medicinal use, a tisane (boiling water poured over the leaves and allowed to steep for several minutes) is claimed to aid digestion and be a tonic for good health and well being.

Tarragon prefers a sheltered, but sunny location, a rich, but sandy, well drained, and slightly alkaline soil. It is a deciduous perennial and in northern zones it will die back to the soil level in the winter and send up new shoots in the spring. The roots should be protected with heavy mulch through the winter. It will lose it's vigor over time, so new plants should be started from cuttings or divisions, perhaps annually. My intention is to propagate new plants from cuttings in the fall and grow them as houseplants through the winter.

Basil and Coriander/Cilantro

Basil Ocimum basilicum sown in January in peat pellets and grown by students in the classroom. Two plants planted out in the greenhouse March 20. Pinched back several times. This is a "generic" variety grown from Ferry-Morse seed from the grocery store.

Today I am starting five more varieties of Ocimum basilicum.

Genovese "Extra-large leaves, Height 18-24"

Italian Large Leaf

Lemon "Mrs. Burns"

Purple Ruffles

Summerlong

Basil and Beyond

My approach to selecting which herbs to grow is not very scientific. Lee Valley Hardware sells a nice set of cast brass markers. I didn't buy the markers, labeled basil, dill, mint, sage, oregano, parsley, rosemary and thyme, but I started seeds for each.

I've already grown basil among the tomato plants. It's easy. Dill got loose in the garden several years ago and now runs rampant. Parsely has been reliably self sowing for several years and I am more worried about keeping it cut down so that it doesn't take over than in getting it to grow. I already have thyme growing in a clay pot, but want more to plant between the stepping stones leading to my front door.

I don't have any mint, but I know that I need to keep it contained or it will take over. There is plenty nearby that I can dig up and transplant if my seeds don't make.

I've tried sage in the past, but killed it with neglect. I have never grown oregano or rosemary.

To these, I am adding cilantro which I already have grown and use in salsa, and marjoram, because I happened to have a packet of seed. I also ordered a start of french tarragon from Gurneys.

In search of willow bark tea.

A common scene occurs in many works of fiction in which a traveller, soldier, lost child, or adventurer is injured, caught out in the weather, or otherwise suffers mischance. Found by a shaman, peasant, wizard, or other angel of mercy, the character is nursed back to health with the aid of teas, compresses, tinctures, or salves made from forest plants.

Readers of this sort of novel are not surprised when the rescuer prepares willow bark tea to ease the hero's aches and pains. Other medical marvels are coming. Major surgeries are accomplished with flint knives under herbal anesthesia. Dressings and compresses of moss and plant materials relieve pain, prevent infection, and speed healing. From the same herbal pharmacopoeia, gastronomic wonders are prepared, and the herb lore of the master is held in awe and fear by all.

I often wondered how much of this is real. I would wonder how cancer was treated in Middle Earth, Narnia, Camelot, or along the neolithic Danube. Did the writers actually know all this herb lore? Do these plants actually exist? What is the difference between a tissane and an infusion anyway?

As an apartment dweller in the inner city, my exposure to herbs remained largely literary, with a few culinary forays. I grew a pot of basil on the window sill. I rubbed grocery store sage into my chicken before baking. I added dill to my potato soup. Busy as a student, I had interest but little time to expand my knowledge.

Later, embarking on a career, buying and renovating a home, marrying and bringing children into the world, and changing careers consumed my time. My curiosity about the ways and uses of plants remained unresolved.

Finally my children's curiosity about the natural world and my interest in feeding them healthy food converged at a time when I had a place of my own to call a garden. Our family continues to create a garden from what had been a neglected yard and each year we learn more and are able to grow increasing quantities of a wider and tastier variety of vegetables.

The pot of basil on the window sill is now a whiskey barrel full in the garden. Dill, prolific seed maker, sprouts up in expected, and unexpected places. Parsley garnishes our soups. Cilantro flavors our salsas. These are all easy to grow, and now it's time to add some others.