HerbnArts

PURPLR CONEFLOWER (echinecea)       ..... The air was heavy with the scent of lilac as the sweet purple blossoms burst forth in all their glory.  Childhood memories rushed through my mind in a frenzy of stories and pictures remembered. Images of the various herb farms I had visited gifted me with sweet memories from more recent times.  Birds were chirping joyfully after the spring rain as lilac perfume wafted through my window.  Oh, the green garden memories, and the simple tea and cookies that made one long for gentler times. Many of the herb farms I frequented no longer exist.  A sad time indeed...  But one can create one's own gentle memory with tea and cookies, journals, herbs in decorative pots, and flowers all around.   Le Petit Jardin has been a blessed spot of sanctuary for me in these tough times.  Just a few days ago I spotted the first bumble bees I have seen in a very long time.  They were checking Le Petit Jar...

            ...Stiff winds gusted through winter weary Barberton as the temperatures climbed from the teens to the seventies.  For two days we basked in the teaser to spring.  Mountains of ice and snow were disappearing as rain and warm air whisked away most of the nasty reminders of this harsh winter. All I could think of was pots of little green herbs and bowls of spring flowers everywhere.  But, alas, it is too soon for such joy.  Le Petiit Jardin will have to snooze a little while longer.  Our usual Ohio weather is still on its maddening roller coaster ride as the temperatures return to their cold downward spiral.  Mostly, it is soggy.  Between the ice mountains melting and the copious pre-spring rains saturating the grounds everywhere, it is more a time of rubber boots and pontoon boats than for spring gardening rituals.  I am just eager to get to the real gardening stuff.  For now, I will busy myself w...

      ... The moon was glowing in a muggy haze at its fullest.  It was hard not to stare at the ghostly orb, totally mesmerized by its strange pale light.  The end of summer was upon us in the Magic City.  The autumn equinox declared the official beginning of fall.  A few bushes and trees had begun to show a bit of bright color, but it had stayed too hot to actually help the process along.  Greenish brown leaves had begun to fall from trees, signs they were showing the stress of the peculiar weather of this summer.  Lawn grasses were turning brown and crunching under foot.  And yet, somehow Le Petit Jardin managed to produce more than enough herbal treasures for me to still enjoy.      Finally the predicted rains came to Barberton, soaking the dry bones ground.  Knowing that it was going to rain, I hastily harvested Holy basil from its growing bowl.  Sweet basil was begging to be harvested as its flowers waved in...

       ... It is late August and in the otherwise quiet morning, I can hear the noisy rattle of cicadas with an accompaniment of crickets chirping in the background.  These familiar summer sounds confirm for me that the world goes on no matter what is happening all around. The occasional dry leaf slowly floats down from neighborhood trees.  In spite of the copious rains we have experienced here in the Magic City, things are dry.  My father, a woodsman by nature, taught me to observe nature and to read the signs of the seasons it shared.  As gardeners, my grandmother and her sisters talked about the signs of the seasons. predicting the next seasons ahead by reading those signs.  Is it any wonder I contemplate the seasons ahead by reading nature's signs as I sip my tea or coffee to start my day.  I guess I have become the go-to gal for my friends who somehow expect me to knowingly predict the following season's weather.  Maybe I shoul...

      ... A cabbage moth flitted lightly around the flowering thyme, stopping now and then, flittering again to another spot on the fragrant herb.  It was a gentle reminder of the warm sunny days of August.  Was it really August already?  Where had the summer gone?  I had more basil than I could manage to harvest and my thyme plants were spilling onto the walkways.  The many rainstorms of the summer had left the herbs growing with wild abandon, making them grow faster than I could manage to harvest.  The various mints in Le Petit Jardin were growing crazily everywhere.  Thank heaven they were growing in containers or I would be strangling from their "Day of the Triffids" growth. This summer season I had managed to include a few red geraniums in pots on my front deck.  Their cherry red blooms have been a happy greeting each time I come home.  As usual I have been late at shaping up Le Petit Jardin.  For all my gardening goo...

      A bright red light was shining onto my face waking me up much earlier than I had wanted.  What was that red light and how did it get there?  Fumbling for my glasses, I squinted out of my window and through my neighborhood trees at the bright light.  It was definitely red.  As the fog in my brain slowly lifted, I realized that the bright light was actually the morning sun.  I can't remember ever seeing the sun appearing red like a traffic signal.  For many years I was an early morning riser, but not so much in my retirement years.  My memories of early morning sun were that of a dark orange orb that grew more golden in hue as the minutes passed.  This was a different morning sun than my recollections could handle.  In the Twilight Zone of my early morning mind I was questioning whether or not I had simply been transported to another planet.  After glancing at the morning sun again and finding that it was now a light g...

       ... Howling winds, torrential rain, rolling thunder and lightning furiously slammed through the Magic City.  But finally it was cooler.  My morning began with inspecting my yard to see if I had "lost" anything to the wild winds of the storm. Fortunately everything was where I had left it the day before. Though it was a bit breezy, the day was deliciously cool and partially sunny.  Perfect gardener's weather... Immediately I wrestled out my packet of mammoth sunflower seeds and poked five seeds into the moist soil.  My next fun task was that of harvesting the new crop of lavender stems I had been carefully watching.  Le Petit Jardin was already yielding its green stems.  The fragrance of freshly cut lavender put me in my happy place once again, reminding me that it isn't about the size of the garden.  It is all about the amount of joy one derives from the sensory experience of nurturing plants, harvesting the bounty, and enjoy...