CURRY COOKIES
1 cup butter or margarine
2 cups brown sugar
2 teaspoons vanilla extract
2 eggs
1½ cups chopped walnuts
1½ cups whole-wheat pastry flour
1½ cups unbleached flour
½ teaspoon baking soda
1 teaspoon baking powder
2 teaspoons curry powder
½ teaspoon salt
Preheat oven to 325°. Cream butter and sugar. Add the vanilla and eggs; continue to cream the mixture. Mix together the walnuts, flours, baking soda, baking powder, curry powder, and salt. Stir these dry ingredients into creamed mixture. Refrigerate until dough is chilled. Roll into a log and slice. Bake in preheated oven until golden.—Bettye Boone, Collected Herbal Favorites
MINT BUTTER COOKIES
1½ cups flour
teaspoon salt
½ teaspoon baking powder
1 stick butter
2/3 cup sugar
1 egg
2 tablespoons milk
4 tablespoons chopped fresh mint
¼ teaspoon vanilla
Cream butter, gradually add sugar and beat until fluffy. Add the egg, milk, and vanilla and beat thoroughly. Mix dry ingredients and chopped mint. Let dough chill overnight. Drop by teaspoonfuls 2 inches apart on greased cookie sheet. Bake at 350° for 10-12 minutes.—Calista Trembath, Lemon Verbena Herbal Cookbook
To obtain these books, contact: Lemon Verbena Herbal Cookbook, Lemon Verbena Herb Society, 6049 Skyline Dr., East Lansing, MI 48823; Collected Herbal Favorites, The Herb Bunch, 205 Hermitage Road, Lexington, SC 29072.
JULY 10
To a Gallon of water put a quart of honey, about ten sprigs of Sweet-Marjoram; half so many tops of Bays. Boil these very well together, and when it is cold, bottle it up. It will be ten days before it is ready to drink.
—THE CLOSET OF SIR KENELM DIGBY OPENED, 1669
Marjoram, Oregano—Which Is Which?
If you’re confused about this herb, you’re not alone, for the words marjoram and oregano are almost interchangeable common names given to some thirty-six species of small perennial shrubs or tender perennials in the genus Origanum. The parent species, Origanum vulgare, originated in the mountains of the Mediterranean area. In Greece, newlyweds wore wreaths of marjoram. It was planted on graves for good fortune in the afterlife. And in England, witches who repented of their practices were said to bathe in oregano and thyme to wash off the guilt.
Origanum vulgare (the word vulgare means “common”) has very little of that magical oregano flavor. Its full-blooded Greek cousin, on the other hand, will make you stand up and shout Pizza! So if it’s flavor you’re after, look for the white-flowered Greek oregano, O. vulgare hirtum. If sweet and subtle is your pleasure, try O. marjorana, valued for its milder, warmer taste and gentle aroma.
WHAT COLOR IS YOUR OREGANO?
Taste, of course, isn’t everything. If you’re a gardener, you’re looking for color—and oregano has plenty. Try these colorful cultivars in raised beds, window boxes, or containers, where you can enjoy their arching blossom-sprays.
• Go for the gold with “Areum” or “Norton’s Gold”
• Think pink with “Kent Beauty,” “Showy Pink,” or “Barbara Tingey”
• Plan on purple with “Hopleys Purple,” “Herrenhausen,” or “Rosunkuppel”
OREGANO FOR GOOD HEALTH
• To relieve the muscular ache that comes with colds and flu, use 10-12 drops of oregano essential oil in a hot bath. Breathe deeply.
• As a massage oil, add 6-8 drops to cup almond or olive oil. Massage onto the chest to ease respiratory ills, or into a sprain or bruise.
• For stomach upsets, sip a cup of oregano tea. Pour 1 cup of boiling water over 1-2 teaspoons dried oregano, steep for 5 minutes, strain.
• For inflamed gums, steep the tea for 10 minutes and swish around in your mouth.
Read more about oregano:
Growing and Using Oregano, Storey Country Wisdom Bulletin A-157, by Sara Pitzer
JULY 11
Prairie Doctor
The echinacea (Echinacea purpurea) is blooming in my garden just now, its drooping purple petals a colorful contrast to its bright orange centers. On this hot July afternoon, it is the prettiest thing in the garden. The bees and butterflies pausing happily to enjoy it obviously think so, too.
Echinacea is native to the Great Plains of North America, and the peoples of the region, skilled herbalists as they were, understood its effectiveness long before white people came into their territory. In their larder of plant medicines—ginseng, goldenseal, slippery elm, chickweed, milkweed—echinacea held the highest place. It was used to treat toothaches, coughs, infections, sore throats, and just about anything else. Preparation was simple: They dug a fresh root and sucked on it.
European botanists heard about the coneflower in the early 1700s, but it was not until the Indians shared their knowledge with the settlers that word of this American treasure, often called “prairie doctor,” got around. It was a German named H.C.F. Meyer, of Pawnee City, Nebraska, who made it famous, incorporating echinacea with herbs such as hops and worm-wood in “Meyer’s Blood Purifier.” Meyer was so persuaded of the efficacy of his preparation that he offered to demonstrate—on his own person—how quickly it would cure the bite of a full-grown rattlesnake. Nobody took him up on his grandstanding offer, but it brought echinacea to the attention of physicians and patients, and its use began to grow steadily. But while European interest remained strong, echinacea dropped out of sight in its native country in the 1940s, and did not reemerge until the 1990s. Now, it is one of the best-selling herbal remedies on the market, recommended as a treatment for colds, flu, and related ailments. There’s a great deal of literature on this herb; while there are no known safety issues, it’s a good idea to read about it before using it.
Herbalist Steven Foster suggests making your own herbal tea with the fresh flowering tops of E. purpurea. Pick a flower, he says, chop it fine, and put it into a tea bag or nonreactive strainer. Steep in hot water for 15 minutes, and sip to combat flu and colds.
Prairie doctor tea. Sounds right to me.
Read more about echinacea:
Echinacea: The Immune Herb, by Christopher Hobbs, L.Ac.
Echinacea: Nature’s Immune Enhancer, by Steven Foster
JULY 12
I do not know whether I was then a man dreaming I was a butterfly, or whether I am now a butterfly dreaming I am a man.
—CHANG TZU
Milkweed and Monarchs: From Susan’s Journal
Out for the morning walk with the dogs today, I have to stop and admire the neat globular pastel flower clusters of the green milkweed (Asclepias viridis), blooming across our meadows. The green milkweed comes along about a month after the antelope-horn milkweed (Asclepias asperula), which bloomed earlier. There’s a problem, though. I’ve looked at a dozen plants of both species this morning, and I don’t see any damage on any of them. Flowers intact and nary a leaf nibbled.
What’s wrong with that? Perfect plants are nice, aren’t they?
Yes, usually. But not in this case, for the milkweeds are the foraging food of the monarch butterfly, which lays its eggs exclusively on this plant. In earlier years, I could watch the striped caterpillars feeding on the leaves, absorbing the bitter taste of the latex sap that protects them from predators. Having lunched and munched for two or three weeks, the caterpillars pupate, spinning jewel-like green chrysalides ornamented with gold spots. If I am lucky, I may even see an adult monarch as it emerges from its chrysalis, stretches its wings to dry, and flies away.
But not this year. Several black swallowtail caterpillars have chewed the garden fennel to tatters (I grow it mostly for them), but the milkweed in the fields is picture perfect. No monarch mothers, no munching monarch caterpillars, no chrysalides, no emerging adults. Of course, this is only one small corner of Texas; I’m hoping it’s not typical. Bu
t last year’s monarch migration was sparse, according to published reports, and this year’s may be sparser. Bad weather and habitat destruction in Mexico, chemicals in the United States. Those butterflies may look care-free, but their lives aren’t all milkweed and sweet breezes.
So you can see why I’m not celebrating all those perfect leaves and flowers.
I’m rooting for the monarchs.
Read more about monarchs
Four Wings and a Prayer: Caught in the Mystery of the Monarch Butterfly, by Sue Halpern
I have a garden of my own
But so with roses overgrown
And lilies, that you would it guess
To be a little wilderness.
—ANDREW MARVELL, 1621-1678
JULY 13
Come buy my mint, my fine green mint!
—LONDON STREET CRY
Mint Mythology
The Greeks had a myth for it. Pluto, the god of the underworld, indulged in a passionate fling with a haughty, beautiful nymph named Menthe. His jealous wife, Persephone, transformed the proud girl into a small plant that grew underfoot, so it would be trodden by all. Pluto was heartbroken when he found out. He couldn’t undo Persephone’s magic but he worked some of his own, endowing Menthe with a sweet, spicy fragrance, so that those who trod on her would love her as he did.
MULTIPLE MINTS
The best-known mints are spearmint (Mentha spicata) and peppermint (Mentha piperita). To confuse the matter, there is also water mint (Mentha aquatica), horse mint (Mentha longifolia), and pennyroyal (Mentha pulegium). And then there are the flavored mints: apple mint, pineapple mint, chocolate mint, orange mint, and ginger mint. Mints are almost too easy to grow, so unless you plant them behind a barrier, you’ll have mint in your marigolds. They crossbreed easily, too, so if you want your chocolate mint to remain true to its divine nature, give it a separate garden spot of its own.
MEDICINAL MINT
Menthol (mint’s essential oil) soothes the digestive tract, hence its use as a digestive aid and its starring role in the after-dinner mint. American Indians used mint as a rub to treat pain, headache, and coughs, and menthol still appears in many ointments and creams that relieve pain, clear chest congestion, and heal cold sores. Peppermint has also been used as an abortifacient, and pregnant women should avoid this herb. And never, never ingest peppermint oil—it is decidedly, definitively fatal.
CRAFTY MINT
Got mountains of mint? Make mint soap. Brew a strong tea (1 tablespoon dried mint to 1/3 cup boiling water, steep 15 minutes). Grate two large bars of castile soap. Reheat the mint tea and add 4 drops peppermint oil. Mix well, knead, and form into balls. Place on waxed paper and air-dry 2-4 days. Gritty? Wet, smooth with your hands, and dry again.
Read more about mint:
Mints: A Family of Herbs and Ornamentals, by Barbara Perry Lawton
But if any man can name the full list of all the kinds and all the properties of Mint, he must be one who knows how many fish Swim in the Ocean, how many sparks Vulcan Sees fly in the air from his vast furnace in Etna.
—HORTULUS, ABBOT WALAFRID STRABO, 809-849
JULY 14
Going Places: Shady Acres Herb Farm, Chaska, Minnesota
If you live in the Upper Midwest and want some help getting started with herbs (that winter climate is challenging!), you must make a visit to Shady Acres, the dream farm of Jim and Theresa Mieseler. There, you can stroll through the herb gardens and greenhouses settled across a green and pretty landscape, meet helpful people who know their herbs, and learn how you can take home both plants and knowledge, so you can grow your own.
Jim and Theresa’s 25-acre farm is located in the rolling farmlands of Carver County, just 30 miles southwest of Minneapolis-St. Paul. The couple has been there since 1977, long enough to put down roots in the Minnesota soil, to learn the habits and needs of all the herbs they grow and sell, and see their dream grow. And grow it has. From a small beginning, the Mieselers’ farm now includes eight greenhouses, display gardens, classroom space, a gift shop—and a full calendar of events from late March through mid-December.
There’s always something to learn at Shady Acres. Want to create a fairy garden? Theresa will provide the plants, accessories, and materials that you and your child can use to create a charming landscape. If it’s container gardening you’re interested in, you can go home with three terra-cotta containers full of plants! Or if you’d like to learn about scented geraniums, or topiaries, or edible wild plants, those classes are available, as well.
And crafts, too—soap-making, for instance. You’ll not only see the herbs growing in the garden, you’ll see how they’re used in soap, and when you go home, you’ll take with you eight ounces of your own custom blended soap. Or you can learn to make a holiday wreath of fresh balsam, or a holiday window box. And kids can paint gourds and make wreaths and pomanders.
Special events are on the Shady Acres menu, as well: a bus tour of area gardens; an outdoor supper fresh off the grill; an afternoon of herbal sorbets; a morning crafts workshop followed by a delicious lunch; and a delightful seven-course dinner in the garden, with live music.
All of the plants the Mieselers sell are produced from seeds, root division, or cuttings grown at the farm. Herbs are available for nation-wide shipping from April through September. Check out the on-line store at the web site: www.shadyacres.com, where you’ll also find gift shop items, books, oils, and herbal supplies. And be sure to subscribe to the farm’s newsletter, so you can keep up with all the goings-on!
JULY 15
Today is St. Swithin’s Day.
St. Swithin’s Day if thou does rain
For forty days it will remain;
St. Swithin’s Day if thou be fair
For forty days ‘twill rain na mair.
—TRADITIONAL WEATHER LORE
The Weather in Your Garden
We have satellites and Nex-rad radar and the TV weatherman to tell us what sort of weather to expect. But in past centuries, farmers and gardeners could only look to the skies and depend on folk wisdom for their meteorological forecast. The St. Swithin’s Day rhyme is a good example.
Saint Swithin was a Saxon bishop of Winchester in the ninth century. According to legend, he asked to be buried outdoors, so that “the sweet rain from heaven” could fall on his grave. For nine years, that’s where he stayed—until the Winchester monks decided to move him to a splendid shrine inside the cathedral. The ceremony, planned for July 15, 971, was rained out, or so the story goes, and the rain continued for 40 days. Hence the prediction: foul weather on St. Swithin’s Day will bring 40 days of rain—but not often enough to make it a reliable prognosticator, according to British meteorologists.
But there are other weather proverbs that might help:
• If the leaves show their undersides, beware of foul weather.
• When the dew is on the grass, rain will never come to pass.
• When you hear the rain crow call, the rain will fall.
• When the wind’s in the south, the rain’s in its mouth.
If these don’t work, try looking at your garden. Clover, chickweed, dandelions, morning glories, anemone, and tulips are said to fold their petals prior to a rain. If the calendula blossom opens before seven, you’ll soon hear thunder; if it stays open all day, you’re in for sunshine. Most reliable, perhaps, is the bog pimpernel (Anagallis tenella), also called shepherd’s weather glass and poor man’s barometer. It is immortalized in this quatrain:
Pimpernel, pimpernel, tell me true
Whether the weather be fine or no;
No heart can think, no tongue can tell,
The virtues of the pimpernel.
And for predicting the temperature, try your local rhododendron, which furls its leaves as the temperature rises and falls: completely closed at 20°F, completely open at 60°F.
Who needs the weather man?
Read more about weather lore:
The Farmer’s Almanac
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nbsp; JULY 16
My garden is an honest place. Every tree and every vine are incapable of concealment, and tell after two or three months exactly what sort of treatment they have had.
—RALPH WALDO EMERSON
A doctor can bury his mistakes but an architect can only advise his clients to plant vines.
—FRANK LLOYD WRIGHT
Vining Herbs
Most of us think of herbs as relatively small plants—until we stand in the shade of a ginseng tree. To broaden your herbal repertory even further, consider these herbal vines, all of which are as honest as Emerson says they are, but are capable of concealing a multitude of architectural crimes.
• English Ivy (Hedera helix). Perennial evergreen vine. According to herbalist Maud Grieve: “Ivy was in high esteem among the ancients. Its leaves formed the poet’s crown, as well as the wreath of Bacchus, to whom the plant was dedicated, probably because of the practice of binding the brow with Ivy leaves to prevent intoxication, a quality formerly attributed to the plant. We are told by old writers that the effects of intoxication by wine are removed if a handful of Ivy leaves are bruised and gently boiled in wine and drunk.” Also used in divination.
China Bayles' Book of Days Page 28