China Bayles' Book of Days
Page 27
1 quart liquid shampoo, any type
2 drops pennyroyal or peppermint oil
2 drops lemon oil
2 drops rosemary oil
2 drops lavender oil
2 drops citronella
Mix all together, using amounts listed. Too much of a good thing can irritate a dog’s skin. (And do be careful when you use essential oils. Ingested, they are highly toxic.)
Read more about using herbs for dogs and cats:
Herbs for Pets, by Gregory L. Tilford
Veterinarians Guide to Natural Remedies for Dogs, by Martin Zucker
If the first of July be rainy weather,
’Twill rain more or less for four weeks together.
—TRADITIONAL
JULY 2
In China, July is the month of the lotus.
There is more pleasure in making a garden than in contemplating a paradise.
—ANNE SCOTT-JAMES
The Remarkable Lotus
I can’t think of anything prettier than a pool of clear, cool water in a garden, reflecting the moving clouds during the day and the silver moon at night. And there’s certainly nothing prettier in a pool than the waxen blossoms of a blooming lotus, an exotic and beautiful herb. If you have a water garden, the richly evocative lotus would be a delightful—and different—addition to your herb collection.
A PLANT OF PLENTY AND ABUNDANCE
Throughout Asia, the rhizomes, seeds, leaves and flowers of the lotus are all eaten. The rhizomes are roasted, pickled, or dried and sliced for use in curries and soups. The sweet seeds, removed from their bitter covering, are eaten raw, roasted, boiled, or candied. They are also ground into flour. The young leaves, leaf stalks and flowers are eaten as vegetables.
The flowers became symbolic of immortality and resurrection because people observed that they would grow from the bottom of dried-up pools after the monsoon rains. Lotus seeds exhibit a remarkable longevity, apparently due to a special enzyme. In the 1920s, some were recovered from a lake in northeast China, and successfully grown; in the 1990s, when scientists were at last able to determine their age, it was found that they were an astonishing 1,300 years old.
In traditional Asian medicine, the lotus has been used to treat fungal infections, diarrhea, dysentery, fevers, and sexually transmitted diseases. The dried flowers are used in a syrup to treat coughs. The perfume was also thought to be medicinal: It raised the spirits and banished melancholy. The seeds were used as prayer beads, and the fiber was woven into cloth.
Observing the lotus grow from the silt of a long-dried pool when it was filled with monsoon rains, Hindu and Buddhist artists used the plant as a symbol of death and resurrection, and the flowers as symbols of good fortune, plenty, and abundance.
GROWING LOTUS
Lotus are easy to grow, and hardy in USDA Zones 4-10. They need at least six hours of sun a day. Obtain rhizomes in the spring from your local water-garden plant supplier or from on-line sources. Plant them in enriched soil in shallow pans (a kitty-litter pan is fine), on overturned clay pots stacked at appropriate heights. Check with the supplier for additional culture instructions.
Read more about waterlilies:
Waterlilies and Lotuses, by Perry D. Slocum
JULY 3
Deep in their roots, all flowers keep the light.
—THEODORE ROETHKE
Not Just for Headaches
The healing properties of willow are a familiar story to many. But have you heard that this generous plant can help you root cuttings of your favorite shrubs and perennials? Rose rustlers swear by it and rhododendron fanciers recommend it (“rhodies” are notoriously difficult to root). And since it costs nothing to try, you have nothing to lose.
ROOTING FOR WILLOW
Have you ever planted a budding willow wand in a marsh and watched it put out enthusiastic branches and eagerly stretch itself into a green tree? Willows seem to have a remarkable ability to root themselves almost anywhere. What’s more, they seem to be willing to share that ability with other plants. You can take advantage of this generosity by treating your cuttings to a drink of willow tea.
To make this all-natural rooting stimulant favored by generations of gardeners, snip pencil-thin willow wands—budding willow “whips” are best—into one-inch lengths. Put two cups of the snipped wands into a half-gallon jar, fill with boiling water, steep overnight, and strain. To give your cuttings the “root” idea, soak the lower stems overnight in the willow tea, then pot as usual. The tea you don’t use will keep for two weeks or so in the refrigerator.
Good luck, and good rooting!
Read more about starting plants from cuttings: Growing Herbs from Seed, Cutting & Root: An Adventure in Small Miracles, by Thomas DeBaggio
The last week in this month, but not before, you may sow onions to stand the winter. . . . Remember when the plants are come up to let them be weeded in time; for, otherwise, the weeds, which will rise with the onions, will soon get the start of them, and destroy the whole crop.
—THE GARDENERS KALENDAR, 1777
JULY 4
Throw aside your Bohea and your Green Hyson Tea,
And all things with a new fashioned duty;
Procure a good store of the choice Labradore,
For there’ll soon be enough here to suit ye;
Then do without fear, and to all you’ll appear
Fair, charming, true, lovely and clever;
Though the times remain darkish, young men may be
sparkish,
And love you much stronger than ever.
—BROADSIDE BALLAD ENCOURAGING THE DRINKING OF NATIVE TEAS
Sweet Liber-Teas
There’ll probably be a pitcher of iced tea on your picnic table today. But for the people who lived during the American Revolution, China tea was not on the menu. The whole affair had, after all, begun with the Boston Tea Party, and one of the patriots’ earliest acts was to renounce imported tea in favor of locally grown herbs.
LABRADOR TEA
The Labrador tea mentioned in the ballad was brewed from Ledum groenlandicum. The plant was used medicinally by Native Americans, who shared their knowledge about it with the colonists. In 1768, the Boston Gazette reported that the tea had been poured for a “circle of ladies and gentlemen who pronounced it nearly, if not quite, equal in flavor to genuine Bohea tea.” The editor added, “If we have the plant, nothing is wanted but the process of curing it into tea of our own manufacture.” Labrador teas were a household affair, and every housewife had her own recipe. Most included rose hips, mint, and wild ginger leaves. When available, dried citrus peels, cinnamon, and cloves were added.
SASSAFRAS TEA, AND OTHER TREE TEAS
This flavorful tea (the original taste of “root beer”) was brewed long before and after the Boston Tea Party, for it was thought to be both delicious and health-giving. And since the sassafras tree was an all-American native, it was certainly on the list of politically correct tea plants. Other trees or shrubs used as beverage teas: sweet gum, willow, rose, raspberry, and sumac.
HERBAL TEAS
Catnip and pennyroyal were easy choices, along with various mints, bergamot, lemon balm, verbena, rosemary, thyme, sage, and wintergreen. Blossoms went into the teapot, as well: elder, red clover, violet, goldenrod, linden.
YOUR OWN LIBERTY TEA
To make a pitcher of Liberty Tea, pour 10 cups boiling water over these slightly bruised fresh herbs: 5 sprigs spearmint, 3 sprigs applemint, 2 sprigs red bee-balm flowers, 2 sprigs lemon balm, 1 sprig peppermint. Steep 15 minutes. Serve iced. If you don’t have these herbs, choose others. Our brave revolutionary foremothers would applaud your experiment!
JULY 5
It was a hot afternoon, and I can still remember the smell of honeysuckle all along that street. How could I have known that murder can sometimes smell like honeysuckle?
—FROM THE FILM DOUBLE INDEMNITY
Sweet, Sweet as Honey
Honeysuckle and murder don’t usual
ly go together, but Raymond Chandler’s line from the famous Fred MacMurray and Barbara Stanwyck film is one of China’s favorites, and she insisted that I use it somewhere in this book. Maybe I’d better explain why.
Honeysuckle, as a literary symbol, has long been beloved of poets and novelists. Calling it “woodbine,” Chaucer wrote about it in Troilus and Cressida:
When she understood his loyalty and pure intention,
She put her arms around him,
As about a tree the sweet woodbine twists Encircling and entwining. . . .
Unfortunately, things don’t work out very happily in the end, because Cressida betrays Troilus.
Still, the honeysuckle was clearly alluring and definitely delightful. Hence herbalist William Bullein, in his Book of Simples (1562) wrote:
Ah, how swete and pleasaunt is Woodbinde, in woodes or arbours, after a tender soft rayne; and how frendly doth this herb imbrace the bodies, armes, and braunches of trees.
There was, however, another side to the story—the tree’s side. The poet William Cowper warns:
As Woodbine weds the plant within her reach, Rough elm or smooth-grain’d ash, or glossy beech . . .
But does a mischief while she lends a grace, Slackening its growth by such a strict embrace.
“Does a mischief” as she “weds”? Well, yes, of course the honeysuckle can do mischief, as any observant gardener knows. In The Englishman’s Flora, Geoffrey Grigson remarks: “Woodbine, honeysuckle, hugs more like a killing snake than a friend, often squeezing saplings into a spiral.”
So perhaps Chandler’s line does make sense, after all. In Double Indemnity, Barbara Stanwyck plays the role of a dangerous femme-fatale, seducing and entwining and eventually strangling the soul of love-struck, sappy Fred MacMurray, whom she persuades to do murder for her.
Yes, indeed. “Murder can sometimes smell like honeysuckle.” And honeysuckle, sweet, sweet honeysuckle, can sometimes smell like murder.
Read the mystery:
Double Indemnity, by James M. Cain
JULY 6
The rarity and novelty of this herb, being for the most part but in the gardens of great persons, doth cause it to be of great regard.
—JOHN PARKINSON, A GARDEN OF PLEASANT FLOWERS, 1629
Santolina
Santolina is one of those plants you may have to look up twice, since some people call it “lavender cotton,” and others call it by the first of its Latin binomials: Santolina chamaecyparissus. (It’s a little hard to get your tongue around the second part of its name, isn’t it?) It is a small, silvery perennial with lavenderlike foliage, although its scent is more like wormwood than lavender. Planted close and sheared, it forms a dense, compact, foot-high hedge.
It was the hedging habit of this plant, newly imported from the Mediterranean, that made it so valuable to sixteenth-century English gardeners. They were looking for plants they could use to create the intricate knot gardens that had become popular among the wealthy: a geometric pattern outlined in a low, carefully-clipped hedge of box, lavender, germander, rosemary, or santolina. Of these, santolina was favored, for it grows slowly, is bushy from the base, and is hardier than most of the others. It traveled to Virginia with the wealthy Cavaliers, whose knot gardens imitated those in England, and made itself at home here in America.
We don’t plant knot gardens much these days; we no longer employ platoons of gardeners trained to plant, prune, trim, and snip. But we still have santolina. Mine is unruly, for I confess to never having trimmed it; it is growing untidily, but happily, against a dry stone wall, and the yellow flowers that those long-ago British gardeners so carefully trimmed away are bursting into golden bloom. It’s handy to have as a moth repellent, the bees enjoy it, and it is a pretty accent in small wreaths of dried plants.
Mostly, though, it is just pretty, an interesting reminder that garden fashions come and go, but that plants come and stay.
Read more about the design of small formal gardens: Knot Gardens and Parterres: A History of the Knot Garden and How to Make One Today, by Robin Whalley
Cresses, mustard, radish, and other small sallad herbs may now be sown. . . . If a constant supply of these small salleting herbs be wanting, a little of the seed should be sown once every week.
—THE GARDENERS KALENDAR, 1777
JULY 7
By eleven thirty, I had finished planting the flower bed, transplanted a half dozen gray wooly pillows of lamb’s ears into various empty spaces, and broke apart several clumps of thyme, replanting them along the path with the creeping phlox and sweet alyssum, where they could spill onto the gravel.
—WITCHES’ BANE: A CHINA BAYLES MYSTERY
Lamb’s-Ears: Surprise!
In the Victorian language of flowers, lamb’s-ears (Stachys byzantina) meant surprise—and no wonder. When you bend to touch this lovely little plant, you’ll find that it is as soft and supple as gray velvet. Once used as a poultice and wound bandage and first cousin to the medicinal betony (Stachys officinalis), it can soothe a garden cut. And it’s charming in the garden, too, although it has a disconcerting tendency to die out in the center after it stretches up to its full height (about 18 inches) and puts up lavender bloom stalks. Plant it in the driest part of your garden, for it is native to the dry, rocky hills of Turkey and Iran. Let it reseed (it loves to do this), and you will be surprised at the delightful little clumps of lamb’s-ears that will appear.
A SILVER WREATH
But lamb’s-ears is at its most charming in a silvery garden wreath. You can purchase various wreath forms at craft stories—my favorite is an eight-inch loosely-woven vine wreath into which I can easily insert plant stems. Make a hanging tie for the back of the wreath. In the garden, choose stems of silver, gray, and gray-green plants: artemisias “Silver King,” “Silver Queen,” and “Powys Castle,” lavender, pussytoes, statice, speedwell, wooly oregano, yarrow, santolina, and lamb’s-ears. Place your wreath form flat, insert the plants’ stems into it in a decorative pattern that suits you, and add a silver bow. Let it dry flat for a few days, then hang. Make one for yourself and one as a surprise gift for a friend, who will be just as charmed by those lamb’s-ears as you are.
Read more about wreathmaking:
Country Living Handmade Wreaths, by Arlene Hamilton Stewart
When a toad crosses the road on a summer afternoon, rain is at hand.
—TRADITIONAL WEATHER LORE
JULY 8
Today is the feast day of St. Elizabeth of Portugal, known as the Peacemaker. She is often depicted with an olive branch, a symbol of peace. In some calendars, today is also the beginning of the Celtic Tree Month of Holly (see December 3).
The necessary ingredients of civilization are wine and olive oil.
—ANCIENT SAYING
The Legendary Olive
In Greek and Roman mythology, the olive was the symbol of Athena, and of the city of Athens. In fact, Athens was named for Athena in a competition between Athena and Poseidon, each of whom gave a gift to humankind. Because of its oil, its fruit, and its wood, Athena’s olive tree, emblematic of domestic industry and peaceful agriculture, was judged to be of greater use to the people than Poseidon’s horse, which represented conquest and war. The oil was used to anoint the statues of the gods, priests and kings, and Olympic athletes. Throughout the Mediterranean region, an olive branch hung over a door is supposed to keep out devils, witches, and other evil spirits.
In Egypt, it was believed that Isis, goddess of fertility, had taught humans how to extract oil from olives. Olive branches were placed in the tombs of the pharaohs and olive oil was applied to their mummies. The oil was used in cosmetics and in medicine, where it was used to treat everything from kidney and chest complaints to fevers, plague, and dropsy.
THE HEALTHY OLIVE
The beneficial health effects of olive oil are due to its monounsaturated fatty acids and its antioxidants. Research has demonstrated that it protects against heart disease by controlling LDL (“bad”) chol
esterol while increasing HDL (“good”) cholesterol. Olive oil has a beneficial effect on ulcers and gastritis, activates the secretion of bile and pancreatic hormones, and lowers the incidence of gallstone formation. If you’re using olive oil for health reasons, you want to purchase extra virgin oil, which is less processed and therefore contains higher levels of antioxidants, particularly vitamin E and phenols.
One important note: If you’re frying or sautéing food, use another oil. Excessive heat may cause olive oil to change into a “transfat,” negating most of its health benefits.
Read more about olives:
The Passionate Olive, by Carol Firenze
JULY 9
Today is National Sugar Cookie Day.
C is for cookie, it’s good enough for me; oh cookie cookie cookie starts with C.
—THE COOKIE MONSTER
Creative Herbal Sugar Cookies
I collect herbal cookbooks from herb guilds around the country. I love them because they exhibit the kind of creative cookery that herbs inspire. In honor of National Sugar Cookie Day, here are three sugar cookie recipes, dreamed up by creative cooks. Thanks, gals, for allowing me to share these!