Need a new idea?
You know how some folks know everything already… not me. I learned the minimal basics of a handful of landscape plants this year, enough to know there’s so much I don’t know. Oh, the pitter patter of delight bouncing through my enthusiasm is like pansies dancing in a gentle autumn breeze, or something like that. That’s my mood when I get to learn more about plants new to me. Plants and us, we’re in this together.
The point is there is fun in gardening if you allow it. Maybe you are interested in things like that, so here are a few herbs with charm and a purpose possibly new to you that you can try next year to get your imagination all a-flutter.
A few summers ago, a friend not only watched over my garden while I was away but sneaked in a couple new plants, one of which was anise hyssop. It grew as tall as me, gangled left and right and eventually bore dozens of tubular purple-pink flowers much appreciated by pollinators. The leaves have an herby-anise scent and were used by indigenous folks in teas and as an herbal steam for congestion complaints. I saw a recipe for apple tarts using the sweetness of anise hyssop leaves to replace sugar in the crust. Trimming branches will keep it shrubby instead of tall and gangly, and it will self-seed itself.
Borage is a comfrey cousin, but it does not spread by adventurous roots like comfrey. But, if you’re lucky, its seeds will scatter and sprout. It’s a good companion plant among tomatoes because it scares away hornworms, and deer don’t like it because the leaves are rough and a bit toxic if too many are consumed. I like it because it produces tiny blue or pink star-shaped flowers which are edible and a pleasant treat while gardening. Young leaves, in moderation, can be chopped and added to salads for a cucumber-like taste.
Early in my gardening adventure, I tried burnet, aka salad burnet. It is a short plant with many stems bearing small toothed green leaves opposite each other. It’s sort of adorable, like green happiness. The leaves have a slight cucumber taste, and the root can be dried, ground into powder for use in a rejuvenating tea. I grow it because I like it and I nibble on a few leaves, but mostly it makes me smile.
There are hundreds of mustard varieties, many from Asia, and you should try a couple. Japanese red mustard, a productive variety that likes our area, is grown for its large spicy burgundy leaves. It prefers spring and autumn weather for leaf production, and it sends up a flower stalk after a couple months. After the seed pods dry, you can collect the seeds and make your own mustard condiment. Recipes are on your phone. I let seeds fall where they might and get new mustards in unexpected places.
Mustard leaves are tolerably spicy and full of vitamins and enthusiasm. Its beta carotene is a buffer against terrorist cancer cells. Magnesium in mustard seeds moderates blood sugar levels. I grow it because it’s tasty, reliable and colorful.
Pineapple sage can fill up a corner of a garden bed with bright red flowers from mid-summer ‘til the first hard frost. Mulched well in autumn, a trimmed-back plant might re-sprout the following spring, but not always. Stem cuttings might root in water, then grow in a pot during winter by your living room window. Saying the leaves have a pineapple taste is a stretch, but folks say it anyway. The leaves do have a distinctive pleasant aroma, and legend says a tasty tea made with them will calm down your overwrought self a bit.
Bee balm, fennel, lemon balm, and nasturtiums also deserve a try. Did you ever grow feverfew? You should if you have regular headaches. Folklore is replete with herbal legends that science has validated. I trust science and mustard. What will I learn about next?