All things which come of the earth, in the season thereof, are made for the benefit and the use of man, both to please the eye and to gladden the heart. (D&C 59:18).
Gardening is a lot about preparation. And waiting. You clean up, rake out, dig up, move around, plan for, mow, chop, burn, haul here and haul there for days and days. It means dirty hands, dirty-all-over, and sore muscles. Then you wait till the forecast is favourable and finally you plant! If you’re like me you plant in stages. Spinach first, assuming it’s bed is ready. Then potatoes and peas, carrots and beets and so forth. Lastly are the delicate bedding plants like tomatoes, hoping that you’re not jumping the gun. And very lastly is basil (persnickety little princess that it is). Its a happy day when everything is looking your way, and the sun appears to commit to a lengthy stay – the tomatoes are finally into their summer home. And then! . . . you wait. . . . sigh . . . .
I cannot be the only gardener who wishes things would grow a littler faster. We can prepare the beds, fertilize, water, mulch, weed and water some more, but I’ve never met a seed in a hurry. Every year I try to be more realistic. “Get real!” I tell myself. “Stop peeking.” I tell myself. And I do. For maybe a week. Then we get a good two day rain, and I cannot help but take the inevitable day-after-the-rain-garden-tour, looking closely for any shoots of . . . anything. If I was honest, I am always disappointed. Having said that however, I am still utterly amazed at the difference two weeks in May can make to a garden.
May 1: my world is brown. A few hearty weeds starting to unashamedly show themselves, and the promise of buds on a few early trees.
May 15: The trailing bell flower (I call it devil-weed) is the most hardy green thing in the yard and it’s happy to be alive. (I’m not happy its alive) Dandelion leaves are beautifully tender in texture and taste. More buds on more trees. Most perennials are up, even the hostas have started poking their pointy heads through. Leaves have budded out on the chestnut tree. Blossoms on the Mayday tree, and the scent of them on the breeze. Tulips are blooming. Things are starting to green up.
May 21:
The stupid red lily beetles have sprung out of NOWHERE and are eating every relative of the lily family for miles around. Pink blossoms on the crabapple trees, and white blossoms on the cherry tree. Popcorn literally popping on trees all over our yard. The Delphiniums are two feet high. Mint is poking through the soil. Borage is in the four leaf stage. Mullein is nice and big and fuzzy. Lovage is already three feet high. The bright cheery yellow daisy-like flowers of Leopard Bain are in glorious full bloom. The world is suddenly every shade of green!
June 1: The garden is full of promise and hope! Above all, hope. When all is said and done, after all is said and done – there is nothing one can do to rush the outcome. What if the carrot seeds don’t germinate? What if that one time I let it go dry was the critical time when they were their most vulnerable? What if stupid idiot cutworms cut the cucumbers off again? (stupid idiot cutworms) What if it hails? I hate hail.
faith vs hope
“One of the most delightful things about a garden is the anticipation it provides.” – W. E. Johns
I do not have faith that my seeds will germinate. That would be a misplacement of my faith, as I have seen times that seeds have not germinated. Many factors influence that outcome. Of course, I HOPE they will, and I water them as if they will, and I keep hoping till I see it actually happen.
I don’t even have faith that I will have a harvest. Again I hope every year for a good harvest, but my faith is reserved for something much more dependable than the weather, or the fickle nature of ‘nature’. I have faith in God, and in His Son Jesus Christ. I have faith that He will answer my prayers, and that He will bless me according to my diligence and obedience to the laws and principles upon which those blessings are predicated, and of course those He desires to bless me with. I have faith in His promises; promises like families are eternal and that I will see my dad again. Other things I don’t have faith in.
For my garden, I hope the weather will be good. I hope that the sun will be hot. I hope that we’ll get enough rain and that our rain barrels will refill frequently. I hope that day will follow night, and that night will follow day again the way I’m used to. The way I like it. But this year of Covid19 has taught me that even the things I thought were constant and dependable, are volatile and removable. Do I have faith that life will always be what it is right now? Absolutely not.
If there was no hope in a harvest why would we plant a garden?
our city backyard family garden cc 1988
I love garden fresh carrots. Crunchy and juicy at the same time, there is nothing quite like them. But carrot seeds are very small and they take forever to germinate, and keeping them moist while they germinate is critical and truth be told, . . . . . I’m not always on top of it. Watering them can cause a flood and push them all into one area leaving another area empty. You could easily have 8 billion carrots growing so closely together that you must thin them out or they’ll be puny, spindly, little things.
This year I hit upon two reeeeeally good ideas for growing carrots and I happily carried them out. One was to soak the seeds for four days till they begin to sprout, then suspend them in a cornstarch slurry inside a small ziplock bag. You plant them through a small hole snipped in the corner of the bag, squeezing the slurry of seeds into a pre-watered trench. The other idea was to sprinkle the seeds into a pre-watered area and then keep them under a board to protect them from drying out or from being washed away by water. Both hacks required constant moisture of course. I used the best of both ideas and was ‘hopeful’ (even giddy) for excellent results, reasonably certain of a positive outcome. Between hand watering and the rain, I was confident the row never dried out. After about a week I allowed myself to peek, and thereafter peeked almost daily. Carrots can take an easy twenty plus days to germinate (I told you they took forever), but I was delighted to see little white spears poking out of the ground in less than two weeks. I gingerly lifted off the boards to let the sunlight start greening them up. The ground seemed moist enough but I soon got distracted and didn’t get back to them till the next day. Bone dry with not a sign of seedlings I saw the day before. (sad face) I was certain I had killed the tender startlings by uncovering them too soon. I hoped I hadn’t. I watered gently and often, continuing to ‘hope’ for the best but I had lost my prior confidence. I was just considering taking next year’s seeds (I always buy one year in advance) to begin soaking them. Our season is short enough, that every day that goes by gets closer to being too late to start seeds in the garden, so I didn’t have a lotta flex time to weigh it out. I continued to hope, watering daily for the best possible scenario, and checking daily. A few more days and I saw those wonderful grassy-looking tiny bright green speers poking through the dirt along the carrot trails! I am SO glad I didn’t give up.
If hope hadn’t existed I would have ceased to water, ceased to check daily, ceased to expect the best, and consequently I would have sabotaged potential, losing any chance of carrots in my garden this year.
“When the world says give up, hope whispers ‘try it one more time.‘” – anonymous
Hope is a choice. It doesn’t just happen to us; we consciously and intentionally choose it. Hope strengthens us mentally and emotionally. Hope provides a positive outlook on life. It literally makes us happy. Hope reduces stress and anxiety. Hope improves our general state of health and boosts our immune system. Hope is essential to our feelings of self worth. Hope moves us forward and makes the future look like a brighter place, one in which we’d like to live. Hope energizes us. When we are positive and cheerful it is easier to have energy. Hope increases faith. And faith increases hope. They are very closely tied together Hope is healing. Depression is a state of hopelessness, and the opposite is true. Hope is not stagnate, it is all about ‘doing‘. Acting on hope yields more results than sitting on hope. Hope is infectious. Just like laughing makes us laugh and smiling makes us smile, hope in another inspires hope in ourselves. Hope is realistic. Hope in a fairy tale world is not hope, its fantasy. Hope for a pony while you live in an apartment is not hope, it is pleasant musing.
“Every thing that is done is this world is done by hope.” – Martin Luther
The truth is, hope may let you down. It seems cruel but sometimes even those things we have the greatest amount of hope for, don’t happen. Its at those times we wonder why we ever invested in it. It seems briefly that had we not hoped, we wouldn’t have fallen so far, and wouldn’t hurt so much. But for the most part, hope is such a pleasant companion while we’re walking with it, that at the end of the journey, we decide it really was worth it, and we yearn to walk with it again, because with hope everything looked brighter, and our days were better. I wouldn’t ever want to live without it. No matter what happens, I hope ‘hope’ and I can always be friends.
“Do not spoil what you have by desiring what you have not; remember that what you now have was once among the things you only hoped for.” ― Epicurus
~
The next few blog posts will follow the theme of Lessons I learned from my Garden. I hope you’ll join me. I would love to hear your comments, and your own experiences about lessons learned in your own garden.
Having grown up on military bases, other than relatives I rarely saw, I never knew any one personally who had a garden. Gardens were exotic places that I saw from a distance when visiting cousins during summer vacation. I really had no clue as to their purpose, or how many hours were spent in them. It wasn’t until I was a newly married 18 year old and heard a wise man say that everyone should plant one, that I even gave the idea more than a cursory nod. Little could I have comprehended then, the life long relationship I would have with my garden.
We planted our first garden in a corner of my mother in law’s vegetable garden our very first summer. A wise man I trusted and loved had openly counselled that we should ALL plant a garden. So we did. We didn’t know a bush bean from a potato plant, but we were enthusiastic and happy to be engaged in the project. By mid summer, morning sickness took over my life and ruled everything I ate, smelled or even thought of. I lost interest in weeding or harvesting that fledgling garden, but my mother-in-law brought an arm full of produce every time she came to visit. I appreciated the gesture, but I really had no interest in anything that ‘smelled’, and that summer, everything ‘smelled’.
I not only felt like a gardening failure, but disloyal to the new wholesome lifestyle it represented. A lifestyle that only a few short months before, I had been so committed to. Some time during the months that followed, that incessant flu-like sickness faded away and we focused on the new baby that would soon be coming to make our family ‘three’. I had such visions of how it was going to be. He arrived in April. We found a house soon after and made an offer to buy it. We were to move in July 1. It had a small spot perfect for a garden and we received permission to plant seeds while we awaited our possession date. We were excited for all it represented, anxious to begin this next step in our life together, but one week before we moved in, Dan got laid off at work. We never did move in, and since we had given notice in our rental, our plans were readjusted quickly. We moved the three of us and everything we owned into Dan’s mom’s basement while we figured out our next step.
Later that summer I learned an important lesson. One of those defining lessons that shapes the rest of your life. That wise man who said everyone should plant a garden, was a prophet (that wasn’t the lesson). His name was Spencer W. Kimball, and when he had said “plant a garden”, it felt like he was speaking directly to me, and I committed to do whatsoever he told me to do (that wasn’t the lesson either). “We encourage you to grow all the food that you feasibly can on your own property.” he said “Berry bushes, grapevines, fruit trees—plant them if your climate is right for their growth. Grow vegetables and eat them from your own yard.” he said “Even those residing in apartments … can generally grow a little food in pots and planters. Study the best methods of providing your own foods. Make your garden … neat and attractive as well as productive. If there are children in your home, involve them in the process with assigned responsibilities.” – Spencer W. Kimball, April GC 1976
He had a way of driving things home, and he spoke to my young heart. He reminded us of the scripture in Luke 6:46 “Why call ye me, Lord, Lord, and do not the things which I say?” He had me. And yet, as that summer ended we were back in another apartment, Dan going to school. Though we had tried to have a garden twice, there we were. Friends generously shared of their excess: cucumbers, tomatoes, zucchini and other produce, and I marveled at the bounty in my kitchen. I mused this blessing over with a friend one day, saying that I believed we enjoyed more produce this month than we ever could have harvested from our little garden. My wise friend Shirley said “It is because of your garden that you are being blessed this way.“ She pointed out the principle of obedience. That promise that when we obey a law, we receive the blessings associated with it. Plain and simple according to her. The prophet said “plant a garden” – we had. The circumstances surrounding the fact that we didn’t harvest it were incidental. The principle stood. She bore testimony to me in her straight forward way, that I could count on that principle for all the days of my life. “There is a law irrevocably decreed in heaven before the foundations of this world, upon which all blessings are predicated. And when we obtain any blessing from God, it is by obedience to that law upon which is is predicated.” (D&C 130:20,21) THAT WAS THE LESSON. I didn’t know it then, but my life changed that day. I had seen the fruit of the principle with my own two eyes. And yes, Shirley was right, I had planted a garden. Pitiful though it may have been, I had been obedient. I had tried my best to obey. That was all that mattered. God is in the details. He doesn’t ask us to feed five thousand. He asks merely that we bring our loaves and fishes to the picnic. Thank-you Shirley Clelland, for being such a wise friend and such a patient mentor.
I was no longer a girl. I was a mother. With the responsibility now to take care of my little one. And as a mother, there was one thing I knew I wanted – NEEDED. Yearned for. To obtain blessings from God. Which blessings? All of them. And I now knew how to access them. Obey the laws upon which they are predicated. “I the Lord, am bound when ye do what I say; but when ye do not what I say, ye have no promise.” (D&C 82:10) I could think of nothing I wanted more than to have the Lord bound to me, and I committed myself that day to do whatever it took to accomplish that.
There are many lessons I learned from my garden over the years, but they all began from that first one – which was that any good thing must start with a DESIRE to do that good thing. Hearts can change on a dime. I’ve seen it happen. But behaviour takes time. Don’t expect to BE everything in the beginning. Start with the desire to ‘be’. And work from there. Alma summed it up in his sermon to the Zoramites: “But behold, if ye will awake and arouse your faculties, even to an experiment upon my words, and exercise a particle of faith, yea, even if ye can no more than DESIRE to believe, let this desire work in you, even until ye believe in a manner that ye can give place for a portion of my words.” (Alma 32:27)
The next few blog posts will follow the theme of Lessons I learned from my Garden. I hope you’ll join me. I would love to hear your comments, and your own experiences about lessons learned ‘from’ or ‘in’ your own garden.
in this chapter: Horse Radish, Lamb’s Ears, Lamb’s Quarters, Lavender, Lovage. Some inside, some outside. Chapter continues to be a work in progress. I’d love to read your comments below.
HORSE RADISH
Horseradish is a rugged hardy perennial, even in cold climates. In fact, the winter forces the plant into dormancy, which like the rest of us, can be kind of a reprieve. During the growing season, it likes full sun but does fine in light shade. Since sun in my garden is in such demand, I don’t waste it on any plant that doesn’t demand it. If it can tolerate light shade, it gets light shade. Planting one to three horseradish plants should provide an abundant supply for even those of us who love it. You can only eat so much of it, but if you have a bigger garden, and are in love with it or want to share it, plant more. Whether you dig a root from your friend’s garden, or buy one from a greenhouse, they’re ready to go into the ground immediately.
Its interesting to note that the word “horseradish” has nothing to do with horses or radishes. The word “horse” formerly meant “coarse” or “rough”, and the word “radish” originally meant “root”, and yes, it is in fact in the radish family. The root is large, tapering to a point. It has a dark brown peel with a white inside.
The plant’s most commonly used part is the root, known for its strong, pungent flavour (and its heat) – that you either love or hate. There doesn’t seem to be much middle ground with horse radish. I didn’t develop a taste for it till well into my adult years but since then I am always on a quest for appropriate ‘carrier’ foods. But don’t discriminate against the leaves, as they are quite edible and very delicious when they are young. They have a sharp, bitter, and peppery taste — similar to arugula and kale and yes, even radish. Snip one or two fresh young leaves and chop up to add to a mixed green garden salad. I’m not suggesting a “horse radish leaf salad”, but to have some horse radish IN your mixed green salad is completely delicious. Try incorporating some of the young leaves into your next garden pesto. Or even add to the greens in your stir-fried vegetables. Be creative. Don’t be a garden bigot by not allowing certain ‘herbs’ or vegetables in your garden to show you how wonderful and versatile they really are.
Horseradish roots are large, tapering to a point, with a dark brown peel and a creamy white interior. They are well known for the ‘bite’, which comes from the release of compounds when the root is grated or chopped. Without grating and exposure to air, horseradish roots seem very innocent, but don’t be fooled, once you grate it you release its full potential, and it can become so hot you can feel it when you breathe. LOL – but not really funny. I’m serious – very HOT. *hint: vinegar stops the heat producing chemical process.
growing
When looking for the perfect spot to plant it, remember, its gonna be there for a long time. The hardiness of horseradish implies that once invited in and given a seat at the table, it is no longer a guest. It needs it’s own room. Set aside an area in the corner of your garden especially for it. It wants good drainage, not soggy feet. Dig a hole about a foot deep, and loosen the soil around it. Make sure the hole is wide enough to accommodate the entire length of the root. It should be planted at an angle. Allow 18-20 inches between plants, or away from its closest neighbour to allow the roots plenty of room to spread out and grow.
Place the horseradish crown or root into the hole diagonally (roughly a 45 degree angle), with the thinner, bottom portion of the root downward. This allows the roots to radiate out while keeping the leaves of the crown straight up. Always a good idea to add compost to the fill when planting perennials. Good idea to fertilize once in the spring when it starts to grow. Keep them weeded – which is only good manners when inviting a new plant into your garden. A healthy plant should have only 3 or 4 leaf stalks, so prune the others. Not pruning will encourage it to ‘go wild’ and it can quickly crowd out nearby plants, taking over a larger space than you want it to take.
A few years ago, I dug some horseradish roots from my son’s farm where it had gone wild, and transplanted two or three to my garden quite late in the season. They didn’t seem to ‘take’ so the next spring I was convinced I had lost them, so I purchased a plant from a local nursery. Within days of planting the new plant, I noticed the other horseradish plants were sprouting up where I had planted a year ago. Good things happen to those who wait, so be patient. I waited another full year after that before I tried to harvest any, and then just a little ’cause I was anxious to try it. It was the third year before I seriously dug up the plants to harvest.
harvesting
‘They’ (whoever they are) suggest we wait for at least two years, maybe even three years before harvesting. I decided to trust ‘them’; you might want to as well. Best time to harvest is mid-late fall. That’s always a joke in our climate. When does late become too late? At the very least, wait until you’ve experienced a good frost. The frost will kill off the green foliage and you’ll think you’ve lost it, but take heart, this is the sign it is ready to harvest.
With a shovel or a fork, gently loosen the soil around the roots and remove the whole plant. Try as you might, the likelihood of you getting the entire root out is very low. This is fine, you want the plant to grow back next year right? Expect the root to be between 6 to 10 inches in length so dig deep. Horseradish roots are large near the top, tapering to a point. You’ll usually hear the root break off as you’re digging it out. But if you’re worried that you didn’t leave enough, cut the bottom 3-4 inches and return it to the soil. For kitchen use, cut away the green leaf stalks, wash and dry thoroughly, then slice the horseradish into small, thin sections. These can stored in the fridge in a plastic bag for up to 3 or 4 months.
using your homegrown horseradish
Let me interrupt this part for a plug about the ‘leaves’. Re-read the opening paragraphs in this section – they are not only edible, but very delicious when they are young. Don’t miss out on those, while you wait for the root to mature. And be creative. Okay, I now return you to the ‘roots’.
Wash thoroughly. Easier said than done; when you try it, you’ll know what I mean. Peel roots with a regular kitchen peeler making sure you remove all the brown spots. Continue to rinse as you’re peeling so you don’t transfer the dirt. Dry well. Uncut horseradish roots will keep for several weeks in the crisper drawer of the refrigerator. Cut horseradish should be used right away. Grated fresh horseradish, preserved in vinegar, will keep for several months in the refrigerator. Peeled and grated horseradish can be stored in sealed bags or containers in the freezer for a few months.
You might want to grate it, you might want to puree in a blender. Up to you. Or maybe a little of both. If you’re grating, use the fine side of your hand grater, or use your food processor (I don’t have one). If you’re going to puree it, then you must first chop the root into small pieces before adding to the blender.
* hint: grated horseradish will tarnish silver upon contact. Don’t put it on a silver serving dish.
Fresh horse radish is super-duper-HOT. It even smells hot. Like clean-out-your-sinuses hot. Best to make sure you’ve got some air circulation while you’re shredding it. Horseradish’s bite comes from the release of compounds when the root is chopped or grated / exposed to air. Without grating and exposure to air, horseradish roots really don’t smell like much of anything. Vinegar stops this chemical process. If you want really hot horseradish sauce, leave the grated root exposed to the air for a few extra minutes, but not so long that it begins to discolour or dry out. For milder horseradish sauce, add vinegar right away. Horseradish will lose its powerful heat over time so don’t make a lot at once. Keep jars sealed in fridge. Best to consume an opened a jar within a couple of weeks at most. Every day after it opens it gets milder and milder, until pretty soon it disappointingly doesn’t taste like anything.
To grate or puree – that is the question. The answer is: whichever you prefer. Whatever you choose to do, make sure you have open windows, a fan blowing the air away from you, and be careful not to put your face directly above the rising vapors.
Grated: Grate finely. Measure out your grated horseradish into small bowl.
Pureed: Chop horseradish in pretty small chunks. Measure out 1 cup into blender and add 1/2 cup white vinegar, 1 T sugar and 1/4 t salt. Puree for a minute until horseradish sauce is desired consistency. Pour into 8 oz jar and put lid on. Tighten to seal.
Basic recipe measurement suggestions. May be multiplied for bigger batches.
Recipe 1 – without sugar: 1 cup grated or pureed horseradish if using the blender or food processor, add just enough water to make it easier to puree. Once completely grated or pureed, let sit in the air for a couple of minutes. Add 2 Tablespoons – 1/4 cup white vinegar and 1/2 teaspoon salt The vinegar is not there to add vinegar flavour. It is used for the chemical reaction it causes which stops the heat, so don’t add it too soon. The salt is there to enhance the natural pungent taste, so use according to your taste. Mix well KEEPING YOUR FACE FROM BEING DIRECTLY OVER TOP THE FUMES. Spoon into small jars and seal with air tight lid. Do not process in hot water canner, but you can freeze it.
Recipe 2 – with sugar: 1 cup grated or pureed horseradish (using same method as above) Add 1 Tablespoon of sugar 2 Tablespoon – 1/4 cup white vinegar 1/2 teaspoon of salt. Mix well. Spoon into small jars. Put the lid on and seal lid.
Recipe 3 1 cup horseradish peel and cut for the blender, or shredded. 1/3 cup white vinegar (can use apple cider vinegar, will be darker) 2 Tablespoons of sugar (do you want it more sweet or less? 1/4 teaspoon salt
Recipe 4 – Like it creamy? Take 1/2 cup prepared horseradish sauce and gently stir into 1/2 – 1 cup heavy cream beaten stiff.
* Cooking horseradish greatly diminishes the flavour and ‘heat’ of the root, so be sure to either eat uncooked, or add to recipe only when the heat has been turned off. Prepared horseradish will keep in the fridge for about six weeks, but you can store the wrapped root in your fridge for longer.
eating it
I am a huge fan of horseradish and wasabi, but my husband is not. Our kids are on either side of the fence. Nobody seems to be a fence sitter with such strong flavours.
– I like it straight from the jar for all beef dishes, even burgers.
recipe 5 for creamy sauce: to each 1/2 cup horse radish puree add 1/4 cup sour cream and/or mayonnaise, some chopped chives or green onion and some freshly ground pepper. Like it milder? Add 1/4 cup sweet cream (whipped after measuring).
recipe 6 for simple cocktail sauce: 1 cup ketchup + 2 T horseradish + 2 T lemon juice + 1 T sriracha hot sauce (or 2 T Franks hot sauce) + 2 tsp worcestershire sauce. Whisk together. That’s it. Serve with shrimp, or as a condiment for burgers, hot dogs, meatloaf, even on top of a ham & cheese omelet or in the mix for devilled eggs.
recipe for sandwich spread: add a little horseradish into mustard or mayonnaise for sandwiches.
Try putting just a little in your next cranberry sauce.
LAMBS EAR
Wooly Lamb’s Ear is an easy-care perennial with velvety soft, woolly evergreen leaves that are grey-green in color, similar in shape to that of a real lamb’s ears. That combination is perfectly described in the name. It generally grows 6-8 inches, and in bloom, spikes up to 12-18 inches, producing spikes of pink to purple colored flowers.
growing in the garden
In the early spring, Lamb’s Ear looks very similar to a Mullein plant. Same grey/green tones, fuzzy leaves. Tricky little things. But given time it will sort itself out and confess which one it is. As long as you provide suitable conditions, growing lamb’s ear in your garden is relatively simple. It is more hardy in zones 4-8, but I am in zone 3 (Edmonton) and it grows well in our backyard garden. It wants full sun, so try to be accommodating, although you might get away with partial shade. Since it originates in the Middle East, it dislikes overly moist soil, so if you have a notoriously dry spot, it would be a good resident. Because it is not totally comfortable in our zone, best to give it a protected spot if you can. Mine grows mostly in my front garden, but this year I intend to transplant one or two into my death valley area, a particular spot that is always dry. An area that seems to miss all the rain, and would never get any water if I didn’t see to it personally. Which much of the time I forget to do – hence, it is known as ‘death valley’. Only the heartiest plants can grow there. And the ants. They do splendid there, which is another part of its problem. Stupid ants.
Lamb’s Ear self seeds, but you can also collect the seed after flowering to start indoors next spring. In my zone, this is a good idea, as you can never be completely sure its gonna make it through a particularly cold winter.
using
Mostly I grow it because its a novel plant, fun for the kids to touch and enjoy. Low growing, it is perfect border plant with unique flowers. It’s ever green leaves make it a good plant to dry for wreathes.
The leaves can be used as a “band-aid” of sorts, for healing wounds and in helping painful bee stings. In fact that’s what it used to be known for: a ‘bandaid’ plant. For centuries it was used as a wound dressing, particularly valuable on the battlefield. Not only do the soft, fuzzy leaves absorb blood but evidently they have properties that help it to clot more quickly. They also possess antibacterial, antiseptic, and anti-inflammatory properties. I haven’t ever used it for this purpose, but if you cut yourself badly one day while you’re at my house, in the summer – maybe we can give it a try.
LAMBS QUARTERS
(goose foot or pigweed) – relative of spinach and quinoa. Sometimes known as wild spinach, and considered a weed in most gardens, it deserves more credit than it usually gets. Highly nutritious, rich in V C and E, essential fatty acids, iron, calcium, minerals and antioxidants.
Most of these ‘weeds’ – meaning those plants that volunteer themselves in your garden without an official invitation, are most beneficial in the earlier part of the season before those that you plant deliberately are viable. Most of the weeds grow from self seeding, so they are up and established weeks before your regular garden. This means that you can start eating nutritious and delicious mixed garden greens (lambs quarters, chickweed, dandelion leaves, borage, plantain, etc) in your salad as early as April or May (in the Edmonton area) most years. By mid June, as your garden grows and develops. you should be eating garden more regular garden produce, so you’ll be depending on ones like lambs quarters less.
The underside of Lamb’s Quarters’ leaves and top of the new leaves are covered in a fine pink dust. Resist the temptation to wash it off as it is full of calcium and protein. It contains even more protein than kale. When lamb’s quarters is young, the entire above ground plant is edible. The stems and leaves can be eaten raw, steamed, or sautéed. Can be used any way and in any recipe that spinach is used, including a ‘spinach’ salad. When I am in my garden, I will often pick the tender new plants and eat them while I work. I never pull them to get rid of them. They’re much too valuable for that. I’ll add them to salads, add them to any other green that I steam.
Like spinach, beet greens, swiss chard and most other greens lambs quarters contains some oxalic acid which when eaten raw in large quantities can inhibit calcium absorption. These plants are so loaded with calcium however, that the amount of calcium not absorbed due to oxalic acid is minimized. Its a good idea to rotate your ‘greens’ for that reason anyway. Variety is a good thing. The black seeds are edible and very nutritious. Very good source of protein.
“Sticks and stones can break my bones, but names will never hurt me”. Just because something is called a weed, doesn’t mean we should discount it. The word is only a ‘term’ we use for a plant we haven’t yet found value in. Lambs Quarters is a protected ‘weed’ in my garden and has earned an honoured place in it.
LAVENDER
I don’t know what it is about Lavender that I love so much. Or more accurately I suppose, when my love affair with it began, or ‘from-whence-it-sprang‘. Even as an adolescent when I first discovered the unique and heady smell of lavender, I loved it. I use it in dried bouquets and arrangements. I use it in potpourri. I use it in the bath, and in cosmetics. I use the essential oil. I hope to never have to live without it. A close relative to Rosemary this bushy, strong scented plant is a native to the Mediterranean so don’t expect it to be super hardy in our winters. Having said that, you might be surprised by how often plants in your garden will survive our winters. Every year my lavender comes back is a good omen for me. I learned recently that the life expectancy of a lavender plant is about nine years. This is great information as I can now plan for that demise by encouraging new growth from the mother plant while she’s still young and vibrant.
growing
Best to buy your lavender plants from your local greenhouse or nursery, as they are not that easy to start from seed. But beware, not all lavenders are the same. You may find French Lavender, English Lavender and Spanish Lavender. I prefer English Lavender (pictured here) in every way. The classic lavender scent is English, which is more long lasting than the more mild French and Spanish. French or Spanish Lavenders are lovely and showy, so they’re perfect to have in a pot on a balcony or patio, but to plant in the ground with any expectation of longevity, English it is. English is easy to grow, and is hardier by far, more likely to survive the cold of an Alberta forecast.
In my area (Edmonton, Alberta), lavender may come back a few years in a row, and it may not. Some give up and admit defeat if it doesn’t survive a winter but that’s the coward’s way out, and there’s no glory in it. Every year I buy another four or five lavender plants. I plant them in various spots around my yard. One or two in my herb garden, another one in the back flower garden, another one in my front flower garden. Depends on where my empty spots are. I’ve had lavender come back in a certain spot eight years, and after the ninth winter – it did not. I mourned that one. I really thought I had it licked. Since then I’ve learned that lavender has a life expectancy and it wouldn’t have grown much longer than that anyway. I didn’t do anything wrong. That information is encouraging, and armed with it, I can move forward with more confidence. I’ve had lavender plants come back several years in a row, and some that have not made it through a single winter. Not every spot is ideal, and there’s no beating experimentation while looking for the best one. I plant them in all different locations because I keep hoping to discover the perfect lavender loving spot in my yard. . . . . . still looking. Truth is, Edmonton is not lavender’s ideal climate or soil type, but that doesn’t mean it cannot thrive. You just have to be creative.
Lavender wants SUN. So I give it sun. Sunniest spots I have. Anything it wants that I have the power to provide. Because of its Mediterranean origin, it wants blazing hot sun, but I am not in control of everything – sigh. It will handle drought and heat, but not wet soil or poor drainage. It actually prefers poor soil, which is one of my problems as I have very rich loamy soil (which I try hard to make that way). One of life’s little ironies I guess.
Lavender’s purple flowers attract bees and other pollinators so its a valuable asset to any garden. Plant in the spring but after all danger of frost is past, in the driest part of your garden with good drainage. Because lavender loves dry (even sandy, and slightly alkaline) soil with good drainage, there are a few things we can do to help. If it doesn’t do well, it’s likely due to a wet season, not enough sun and high humidity. Plant your lavender in a raised mound, mixing in a little sand to increase its drainage, and make it less likely to sit in wet soil after a rain. Give it room to expand – about two feet, and think positive thoughts. Not much we can do to keep the rain away in a wet season, but don’t add to it. Avoid the sprinkler. Remember, you’re going for ‘dry’.
harvesting
In the morning, when the oils are most concentrated, clip the base of the flower stalk when approximately half of the flower buds have opened. Cut them as long as possible so that you can put them into bundles. I use an elastic band to secure them, but you can also tie them with string. If I have just a few, I dry them standing up in a dry vase. If I have more, I hang them upside down in an area with good air circulation. Flowers will keep their perfume for months, even years sometimes if in a sealed container. When thoroughly dried, gently rub each stem to remove the flowers.
using
– All parts of a lavender plant are edible, but it has never appealed to me. Kinda like eating soap in my opinion. Store the dried flowers in an airtight jar out of direct sunlight to preserve the perfume as long as possible. – Sprinkle them into bath water, – Tie a handfull into a lavender sachet for a drawer, closet or suitcase. – What a lovely gift idea. Slightly squeeze the dried flowers in the sachet to reawaken the scent. – Lavender oil can take the sting out of bee stings. It is good for minor burns, and reducing inflammation. Use as a wound wash to help prevent infection. – The scent of lavender is said to relieve stress and depression, and promotes relaxation.
LOVAGE – super hardy, self seeds, can be transplanted
Native to the Mediterranean and popular in Europe and Southeast Asia, lovage is quite unique in that it’s hardy in zones all the way from 3 to 9. That’s pretty much Edmonton to Athens! You don’t see that very often! Because it grows so tall, and bushes out in brilliant greenery, lovage makes a beautiful backdrop to any flower, herb or vegetable garden, and is an excellent pollinator plant. It has earned a permanent spot in my herb garden because of its hardiness, usefulness and loveliness.
growing
Related to parsley, but growing like a bush, lovage has a strong taste resembling a parsley/celery combination. It is perennial – coming back from the root, and also self seeds so you’re never gonna run out of it. Will grow to about 8 feet tall in my garden. It likes sun but will tolerate partial shade. That means it gets partial shade. Full sun in my garden is too precious to waste on any plant who doesn’t require it. Give it plenty of room to be what it wants to be. It likes to be moist (probably because it grows so fast), but I don’t water anymore often than I feel the need to water my lawn.
It goes to flower mid summer and will self seed easily, so you may get lots of volunteers next year. Luckily its easy to pull out when its young, or dig out to transplant. All your friends can have grandbabies of your lovage plants. If you’re just starting out with lovage, probably best to get a transplant from someone. Apparently, germination of the seeds isn’t reliable and usually has about a 50% viability, so if you’re starting with seeds, plant more than you want. Definitely, spring transplants have better success than fall ones, although I have given plants to friends all throughout the growing season. Clearly, the more time they have to establish themselves the better.
harvesting and using
mortar and pestle
You can use the seeds, leaves, stalks and even the roots.
Seeds: They flower mid summer, and then go to seed, so expect to start harvesting them toward the end of summer. Make sure they’re dry before you pack them into an airtight jar, and then use throughout the year till next summer’s seed is ready. Sprinkle over salads and mashed potatoes, breads, pastries, biscuits, and cheeses. I find it helpful to slightly crush them in a mortar and pestle to release their flavour before sprinkling over your dish. Strongly aromatic.
Stocks: Stocks are tough and need to be blanched. I personally have never used them, except to simmer in a stock and then discard – they’re too tough for me, but the flavour is intense.
Leaves: The leaves look like very large Italian parsley leaves, and they taste like celery, only much stronger. In the summer, I pick them a little here and there as I use them. Chop coarsely to add to a mix of salad greens. Chop finely and use in place of parsley in chicken salad or tuna salad, or even in a batch of fresh tomato salsa. Use in marinades, soups, creamy dips, chili and potato salad, as well as stocks and casseroles. They’re VERY flavourFUL, so use sparingly at first till you get used to how strong they are. Flavour to taste.
For winter use, I pick the leaves anytime in late summer. I dry them, then powder them in the blender and mix with a nice salt to make “celery salt”, which I use throughout the year in all sorts of dishes that I want to add a parsley / celery taste to. Or for a nicer look, hand crumble the dried lovage leaves, and mix with a coarse Himalayan salt. Keep in a short jar to spoon out for use in cooking.
