China Bayles' Book of Days

by Susan Wittig Albert

  The connection between fern seed and invisibility goes back to the times when it was thought that all plants reproduced from seed. Well, then, it was logical. If there are no visible seeds, the seeds must be invisible. And if your logic took you that far, it could take you one step farther: put some of those fern seeds in your pocket, and you would be invisible, too.

  Since Midsummer Night’s Eve was known to be a magical night, it was obviously the best time to collect these magical, mythical, mysterious fern seeds. On that night in Bohemia, girls spread white cloths under the ferns to catch the seeds, which could not only make them invisible, but lead them to a vein of gold. In Brittany, fern seed collected on Midsummer Night could be kept until the next Palm Sunday, when it would show the way to treasure. And in Austria, fern seed tossed into a cache of money would keep that money from decreasing in value. Quite a reputation for something that couldn’t be seen!

  It wasn’t until 1848 that the real mystery of fern reproduction was solved, and botanists understood the two-phase process that involves both asexual and sexual reproduction. But folklore has a long life. Which is why people could be April Fooled, and why stories about “invisible fern seeds” still appear as late as the beginning of the twentieth century.

  Ferns have been used to treat a variety of physical ailments, from wounds and burns to intestinal parasites. The immature, coiled fronds are edible—in New England, the steamed and buttered fiddleheads of the ostrich fern are considered a great delicacy—and the dried fronds are used in basketry and papermaking, and as ornamentals.

  Read more about the secret life of ferns:

  A Natural History of Ferns, by Robbin C. Moran

  April, Comes like an idiot, babbling, and strewing flowers.

  —EDNA ST. VINCENT MILLAY

  APRIL 2

  It is a tradition with many, that a wreath made of Periwinkle and bound about the legs, defendeth them from cramp . . . And Mr. Culpeper writeth, that Periwinkle leaves eaten by man and wife together cause love—which is a rare quality indeed, if it be true.

  —WILLIAM COLES, THE ART OF SIMPLING, 1656

  Periwinkle Blue

  The periwinkles (Vinca minor) are flowering in my Texas garden today, their blossoms like beautiful blue stars scattered among the dark green leaves, brightening the shady places under the oak trees. The generic name of this pretty groundcover derives from the Latin vincio (“to bind”), a fact I am reminded of every time I pull weeds in that bed. The long, trailing stems are like tough little ropes. No wonder they have been used for twine!

  There are other periwinkles in my garden, too. Beside a rock wall (where this invasive plant can be easily controlled) is a bed of Vinca major—same blue flowers, but a larger leaf and longer, arching stems. And I just brought home a dozen Catharanthus roseus, the Madagascar periwinkle, for containers on the deck. The blooms run the gamut from white to neon pink to bold purple. This little beauty has been recently reclassified from Vinca to Catharanthus, but trust me: It’s still a first cousin to Vinca minor.

  In Jamaica, periwinkle was drunk as a tea to ease the symptoms of diabetes. In India and Hawaii, the leaves were used as a poultice to treat wasp stings. In China, the leaves were dried, powdered, and used as an astringent, a diuretic, and a cough remedy. In Central and South America, periwinkle was a staple cold remedy, easing lung congestion and inflammation and sore throats. In the Caribbean islands, an extract from the flowers was used as an eyewash, and the leaves were chewed to ease toothache. Scientists say that the plant contains a host of useful alkaloids, some of which lower blood sugar levels, while others lower blood pressure and still others have anticancer properties. Research is continuing on these useful plants.

  The next time you’re admiring the periwinkles in your garden, stop for a moment and think about all the things we have to learn about the plants we take so much for granted!

  Through primrose tufts, in that green bower,

  The periwinkle trailed its wreaths;

  And ’tis my faith that every flower

  Enjoys the air it breathes.

  —WILLIAM WORDSWORTH

  In the floral calendar, today’s flower: white violet.

  APRIL 3

  We carried our lunch trays out to the sunny flagstone patio under my kitchen window, where the late-blooming butterfly weed was attracting the last of the hummingbirds, tanking up for their long haul to Mexico. If you sit out there for lunch in the summer, you’ll be barbecued in nothing flat, but on an autumn day like today it was perfect, just the right mix of sun, cloud, and breeze, seasoned with the sweetly pungent odor of the sun-warmed creeping thyme that grows among the paving stones.

  —THYME OF DEATH: A CHINA BAYLES MYSTERY

  A Box of Thyme

  If you’re planning a thyme garden this year, now’s the thyme (oh, dear!) to get started. A “thyme box”—a small raised garden (four-by-four feet is a good size) constructed of landscape timbers or boards—is an easy and attractive way to grow a collection of thymes. Use a good garden soil for your mix, with the addition of sand to improve the drainage, and put your garden where it will get a full day’s sun. While thyme can be started from seed, beginning with plants will give your garden a head start. Shear the plants in midsummer to make them bushy (you’ll have plenty of uses for the snips), and divide every three or four years.

  Thyme is one of the basic herbs, grown not just for its culinary uses (it’s an excellent seasoning for meat, poultry, and eggs), but also for its medicinal qualities, chiefly as an antiseptic, to combat infection. It was often burned as a fumigant to cleanse the air. As late as World War II, when it was called “Russian penicillin,” thyme was used to heal wounds and prevent infections. And if you want to attract fairies, thyme is a must-have. Fairies are thought to be entranced by its wonderful odor, as are bees. Thyme honey is among the most prized honeys in the world.

  SOME THYMELY CHOICES

  Thymes come in a wide variety of growth habits, colors, and fragrances. Since it ships well, you can also purchase plants on-line. Here are a few for you to consider:

  • Common Thyme: T. vulgaris

  • Common Thyme: silver, gold, fragrant. T. vulgaris cultivars: ‘Argenteus,’ ‘Aureus,’ ‘Fragrantissimus,’ ‘Roseus’

  • Creeping Thyme: T. serpyllum

  • Caraway Thyme: T. Herba-barona

  • Nutmeg Thyme: T. Herba-barona v. “Nutmeg”

  • Wooly Thyme: T. pseudolanuginosus

  • Camphor Thyme: T. camphoratus

  • Lemon Thyme: T. x citriodorus

  • Coconut thyme: T. pulegiodes coccineus

  Read more about thyme:

  Growing and Using Thyme, Story Country Wisdom Bulletin A-180, by Michelle Gillett

  APRIL 4

  In some years, this is the Jewish Passover Seder, celebrated on the night of the fourteenth day of Nisan, the first month of the Jewish lunar year.

  The symbolic foods [of the Seder] include those laid down in the Talmud two thousand years ago: bitter herbs—originally wild romaine lettuce—to recall the harsh conditions the Israelites endured; haroset, to remind us of the mortar they had to form; and above all matzah, called lechem oni, the unleavened bread of poverty, but also the bread of freedom, for on the night the Israelites left Egypt, their sourdough starter, the yeast of biblical times, had had no time to rise.

  —PHYLLIS GLAZER, JEWISH FESTIVAL COOKING

  Bitter Herbs

  According to the Talmud, romaine (Chasa) is one of the herbs that may be eaten at Seder, with the unleavened matzah. Here are other herbs, native to the Mediterranean area, that may have been available for the Hebrews’ use at the time of the first Seder:

  • Endive (Cichorium endivia and C. intybus, also called chicory and radicchio) has a bitter flavor unless it is picked young or blanched.

  • Watercress (Nasturtium officinale) was used by the Egyptians and early Greeks to increase strength and courage. It has a spicy tang.

  • Sorrel (Ru
mex acetosella) was widely available in the spring.

  • Dandelion (Taraxacum o fficinale) leaves were also readily available.

  • Horseradish (Cochlearia armoracia) leaves, rather than the root, would have been eaten at this time of year.

  • Nettle (Urtica dioica) leaves are rich in minerals.

  HAROSET

  Haroset is a fruit-and-nut paste that symbolizes the mortar Jewish slaves used to build for their Egyptian masters. The recipes vary regionally, but all include fruit (dates, apples, figs, raisins, pomegranates), nuts (almonds, chestnuts, walnuts), and spices.

  2 medium-size tart apples

  ½ cup almonds, chopped

  1 teaspoon cinnamon

  2-3 tablespoons orange juice

  1 tablespoon sugar or honey, or to taste

  Peel, core, and finely chop or grate the apples. Mix with the rest of the ingredients.

  To learn more about Jewish holiday food:

  Jewish Festival Cooking: 200 Seasonal Holiday Recipes & Their Traditions, by Phyllis Glazer with Miriyam Glazer

  APRIL 5

  Gardeners learn by trowel and error.

  —SHARON LOVEJOY

  Grow Your Own Salads

  Salads taste better when they come straight from the garden to your salad bowl. What’s more, the experience of growing your own may make you appreciate it even more. Here are some considerations for your salad garden.

  • Visualize your favorite salad and list all its ingredients: lettuces and other spring greens, plus radishes, carrots, edible flowers, tomatoes, cucumbers, spinach, green onions, mustard.

  • Plant your salad fixings close to the kitchen door, or in a collection of containers on your deck, filled with a lightweight potting medium. Plant seeds, water well, and add a solution of fish and/or seaweed fertilizer.

  • Add herbs. Basil, cilantro, dill, parsley, and chives will spark any salad. Peppery, aromatic arugula, a trendy salad green, was once called “rocket” or “roquette.” About it, one herbalist observes: “In the language of flowers, the Rocket has been taken to represent deceit, since it gives out a lovely perfume in the evening, but in the daytime has none. Hence its name of Hesperis, or Vesper-Flower, given it by the Ancients” (The Modern Herbal, 1931).

  • Build a teepee trellis in the center and add a climber—Malabar spinach (Basella rubra) is nutritious and attractive, as is a climbing tomato. Growing your salads on a deck? Train your climber up a wall trellis.

  • Plant an edible border (pretty, too): nasturtium, pansies, Johnny-jump-ups, calendula.

  • Plant tight, harvest as you go. You can squeeze four leaf lettuces or four spinach plants into one square foot, or two chards, or a dozen green onion sets. Harvest the young leaves, and finally the whole plant. Then replant.

  • Plan for all-season salads. Early Bibb lettuce yields to bush cucumbers. Tomatoes are followed by fall spinach and carrots.

  Read more about salads to grow:

  The Edible Salad Garden, by Rosalind Creasy

  The buds of the elder bush, gathered in early spring, and simmered with new butter, or sweet lard, make a very healing and cooling ointment.

  —MRS. CHILD, THE AMERICAN FRUGAL HOUSEWIFE, 1833

  Who soweth in raine,

  hath weedes to his paine,

  But worse shall he speed,

  that soweth ill seed.

  —THOMAS TUSSER

  APRIL 6

  The pedigree of honey

  Does not concern the bee;

  A clover, any time, to him

  Is aristocracy.

  —EMILY DICKINSON

  Don’t wear perfume in the garden—unless you want to be pollinated by bees.

  —ANNE RAVER

  Befriending Bees

  Plants can’t set seed without pollination, and bees are among the best pollinators. Luckily for us humans, there are more than 3,500 native species of bees in the United States, and some of them are bound to live in your neighborhood. They’ll drop in for a visit if your garden includes the plants they enjoy. Start planning now for a buzzing garden all year round—and do skip the toxic sprays. The bees will bless you for it.

  • Timing is important. To attract different varieties of bees, plan for succession-blooming in spring, summer, and fall.

  • Bee-utiful. Bees are attracted to yellow, purple, red, and blue blossoms. But unlike hummingbirds and moths, they can’t negotiate long-tube flowers. Members of the Compositae family—cosmos, dahlias, zinnias, and sunflowers—are winners, but stay away from hybridized double varieties, which produce almost no pollen.

  • Herbs are heavenly. Hyssop, lavender, rosemary, borage, mint, sage, catnip, butterfly weed, horehound, and boneset are especially attractive to bees.

  • Weeds are wonderful. From the bee’s point of view, any plant that provides nectar and pollen is wonderful—including dandelions and white clover, which we think of as weeds.

  • Native is nicer. Wild bees are already adapted to the native plants of your area, so if you want to attract more bees, plant more natives. In many parts of the U.S., this will include wildflowers like coreopsis, gaillardia, basketflowers, toadflax, sunflowers, red clover, black-eyed Susans, and monarda.

  Read more about the secret society of bees:

  Honey: From Flower to Table, by Stephanie Rosenbaum

  Letters from the Hive: An Intimate History of Bees, Honey, and Humankind, by Stephen Buchmann

  The bees have their definite plan for life, perfected through countless ages, and nothing you can do will ever turn them from it. You can delay their work, or you can even thwart it altogether, but no one has ever succeeded in changing a single principle in bee-life. And so the best bee-master is always the one who most exactly obeys the orders from the hive.

  —TICKNER EDWARDS, THE BEE-MASTER OF WARRILOW, 1907

  APRIL 7

  Tansy is very wholesome after the salt fish consumed during Lent, and counteracts the ill-effects which the moist and cold constitution of winter has made on people . . . though many understand [the eating] not, and some simple people take it for a matter of superstition to do so.

  —WILLIAM COLES, THE ART OF SIMPLING, 1656

  Tansy: A Lenten Mystery

  There’s a mystery about tansy. This herb (Tanacetum vulgare) tastes bitter and has traditionally been used to expel intestinal parasites, treat kidney ailments, and fever. So why would people use it to flavor a dish that celebrates the end of Lent? Some writers suggest that the tradition began with the celebration of the Jewish Passover and the eating of bitter herbs, adapted to Christian use. Other writers suggest that tansy was used as a blood cleanser after the rigors of Lenten fasting; over time, this reason was forgotten.

  The herb was made more palatable by cooking it with other fresh greens in an egg-rich batter, a cross between a pancake and an omelet, strewn with sugar. As time went on, the dish was embellished, first with cream and spices, and then with breadcrumbs and more sugar, until it became a sweet pudding and finally a cake, often called simply “a tansy.” The dish might include some symbolic tansy, but it was usually spinach juice that created the traditional green color.

  This colonial recipe for tansy pudding comes from Mary Randolph’s The Virginia Housewife Or, Methodical Cook (1832)—rather like a simple spinach soufflé without the spinach. No tansy? Substitute lemon juice, beating to incorporate.

  TANSY PUDDING

  4 eggs slightly beaten

  1 cup of cream

  ¾ cup of spinach juice mixed with a tablespoon of tansy

  juice

  1 cup of cracker crumbs

  ½ cup of sugar

  ½ teaspoon nutmeg

  Mix all together and bake in a buttered dish until firm. It may also be cooked like an omelette. It looks green.

  According to Alice Morse Earle (Old Time Gardens, 1901), the coffin of Jonathan Mitchell, exhumed, was found to be full of tansy. Mitchell, president of Harvard College, had died in 1668 of “an extream fever.” The use
of tansy at funerals, Earle reports, “lingered long in country neighborhoods in New England, in some vicinities till fifty years ago.”

  APRIL 8

  Make no mistake: the weeds will win; nature bats last.

  —ROBERT M. PYLE

  The Wayfaring Plantain

  If you have plantain (Plantago major) in your yard, you’re not the only one. They’re everywhere. In fact, some 200 species of this plant live in temperate regions around the globe. There’s a romantic explanation for plantain’s ubiquity. The plantain is said to have once been a maiden who gave her heart to a wayfaring man. Anxious for his return, she waited beside the roadway, weeping. One day, the goddess Demeter walked past and heard the maiden’s sad story. “Well, my goodness,” Demeter said in a reasonable tone, “if you feel that way about it, why don’t you go find the fellow?”