In the Herb Garden

( Originally Published 1933 )

Herbs come readily from seed and are not finical or difficult to raise. Many of them are natives of the lands surrounding the Mediterranean, where they grow on dry, poor, and often rocky ground, and that is why they like a warm, sunny exposure, preferably facing south or east, and a well-drained, dry soil. As with all general statements, however, there are the usual exceptions; tarragon does well planted close to a wall or hedge where it is shaded for a portion of the day, while sweet woodruff grows in the woods, and most of the mints thrive in a moist soil. Except these, herbs will grow in any garden soil provided it is not too rich. Plants grown in too rich a soil are apt to be leggy and produce an essential oil poor in fragrant essences, while those raised in a comparatively lean soil will be compact and bushy and produce a more concentrated oil.

With the growing of herbs, as with all plants, the better the soil is prepared in advance of sowing the seed, the stronger and healthier the crop will be. The ground should be spaded to a depth of from eighteen inches to two feet, forked two or three times, and then finished off by a final patting and smoothing to give it a finely pulverized surface. When the soil is friable the roots do not stay near the surface where they dry out in periods of drouth, but grow deep down where they almost always find some moisture. Strong, deep roots anchor the plants against winds and heavy rains.

In the spring after the last killing frosts are over, generally from the end of April into early June in the northeastern states, it is safe to plant the herb seeds. Since almost every seed in the packet comes up, they are sown thinly and then lightly covered by sifting a little soil over them. The seeds are pressed down firmly with a board and if the ground is very dry they are watered. When they are about two or three inches high, if they are too thick, they are thinned out, to give those remaining room to grow and spread. They require almost no care except pulling out the weeds by hand from time to time and cultivating them after a rain. During three summers' experience with them the only pests have been a solitary attack of aphids on the wormwood and costmary. The other herbs have been perfectly healthy and clean and have grown lustily. In fact, as I write, during a long dry spell in July, the herbs look more cheerful and fresher than any other group of plants and not one of them is drooping or wan like some of the phloxes and roses. Watering is likely to cause the soil to bake, particularly if it is of a clayey consistency. I have raised seedlings during a season when it hardly rained at all without any watering, but I did keep a fine dust mulch around the plants to prevent the evaporation of the moisture which was already there. It is not necessary to shade the young seedlings.

Most of the annuals take from two to three months to flower, and, therefore if planted in May, will be ripe for harvesting early in August. A few, such as summer savory and borage, ripen quickly and then run to seed. If a continuous supply is desired, crops could be planted at intervals of two weeks until July, but we must admit that often our three crops, the planting of which has been spread so carefully over a period of six weeks, will all ripen at once as happens so frequently in the vegetable garden when an avalanche of string beans, peas, or corn descends upon us.

A few of the herbs are not raised from seeds. The tarragon sets no seed and is raised from cuttings, or di-visions of the roots. The horseradish is propagated from pieces of the root, and the fragrant-leaved geraniums and lemon verbena are increased from cuttings. There are many kinds of fragrant-leaved geraniums with pretty flowers and gracefully curved branches which are attractive in pots or for a vacant space in the border. Pots filled with lemon verbena, and fragrant-leaved geraniums standing on the terrace or porch where we drink tea or after-dinner coffee give off their pleasant perfume as we walk past them and our clothes or hands touch their leaves. Dampness is said to bring out their scent, so they are placed along the margins of our garden pool as in Spain where the fragrance in flowers or leaves is as much valued as their form or color. Laurel, or sweet bay, is another plant which is increased from cuttings. When grown in tubs and trimmed into a pyramid or umbrella shape by a gardener who is also a topiarist, they make handsome and aristocratic-looking accents.

Most plants grow stronger and produce more of their essential oil when their roots are firmly anchored in the earth, where the breezes stir them, the sun shines down on them, and the sweet rains from heaven wash their leaves. In a pot a plant is cramped for space, and besides, has to be watered daily, often with artesian well water which may be cold, and may contain chemicals bad for the plant's digestion. People who have no gardens, however, and those who wish to keep on growing herbs during the winter, like to raise herbs to stand on the window sill. A few of them, like parsley and chives, do well when grown in this fashion. Flats of these two are often sold at the grocer's during the winter. It has been my experience that although they keep their flavor when grown this way they do not recover as quickly when their leaves are cut off as they do in the garden. Sweet marjoram is a decorative plant; its branches curve down prettily over the sides of the pot, but when I grew it indoors during the winter, it lost its fragrance. Summer savory, thyme, and rosemary might do well in window boxes. The sages, tarragon, and others would be too coarse, besides this seems unnecessary since their dried leaves are as fragrant as the fresh ones.

When one is a beginner at raising herbs and the plants are strange to the gardener, it is practical to plant them in long rows separated by walks, each row divided into tiny grave-like beds. Enough of most herbs can be grown in a space measuring two by four feet, but some of them, such as horseradish, balm, and pot marjoram, spread so riotously they must be given more room to follow their natural inclinations without interfering with the others. When each herb is in a little space to itself it can be studied or replaced and moved about without disturbing the other plants. For the cook's convenience, they should be conspicuously labeled, especially when she is new and as yet unacquainted with them.

If the beds are kept clean and tidy they will be attractive, for the beauty of any garden is in its order. By keeping back the weeds and pests and having each plant healthy and exactly where he wishes it to be, man shows he has been able to impose his will upon nature and conquer it. This is the root from which all garden art has grown and flowered, whether it is exhibited in a field of forage crops, a planting of vegetables, or an elaborate design by Le Nôtre.

Once the herbs are well known and their idiosyncrasies understood, we can begin to play with them and move them about. Since most of them are not strikingly beautiful it would seem difficult to fashion a pretty effect with them; but, as with all plants, when they are given a setting in harmony with their colors and in scale with their size, their charms are set forth to the best advantage.

If there is plenty of space, a collection of herbs is attractive in a little garden by itself shut away from the other flowers and vegetables by an enclosing wall or hedge. This enclosure keeps the plants warm and sheltered and protects them from the winds which scatter their perfume. When the gate into the garden is opened a rich odor of spice, anise, and resinous oils greets the visitor. In such a garden the beds could be laid out in a geometric or, as some prefer to call it, a formal design. The gray-leaved plants perhaps could be in beds to themselves and balancing these, or next to them for contrast, beds filled with dark green ones. The red basils could border beds of gray-leaved plants; in fact this was such a stunning combination that my own herb garden was hedged in by bushes of a rose with dark red leaves, the Rosa rubri f olia, Vill.

Herbs can also be grown in a double border on either side of a path of grass, or of bricks laid in an old-fashioned pattern. The low basils, savories, and Thymus vulgaris will furnish the edging as they do around beds of vegetables or of other herbs in European gardens. Winter savory is charming as a border and if left un-disturbed it forms a thick, undulating ribbon and when sheared makes a stiff little hedge, a good substitute for the box if this is too expensive or not hardy. Behind the low edging plants can be grouped the Umbelliferae, the white-flowered anise, and pinkish coriander in the foreground, backed by tall fennels and dill with their yellow-green, wheel-like flowers and alternating with these clumps of pink, white- and blue-flowered hyssop. At the back of the border, Inula helenium lifts its daisy-like yellow flowers, and the tall spires of Salvia sclarea send forth their sagy scent. A damask rose or two stands at some pivotal point, and tucked in where their colors harmonize, are red- and pink-flowered bee balms, golden calendulas, violets, nasturtiums, and both the blue and the white varieties of borage, so pretty one wonders why they are not grown more in the flower garden. There are clumps of Florentine iris, and the spear-like leaves of Acorus calamus, while here and there an artemisia gives a silvery note with its gray leaves. Varieties of artemisias such as abrotanum, absinthium, stellariana, and dracunculus rightly belong in the herb garden, and besides these one might include the feathery-leaved pontica and albula, called artemisia Silver King, a handsome native of our Southwest with entirely gray foliage; and another native, filifolia, called silver sage, or white rabbit bush with very finely cut leaves. A. lactiflora has green leaves and is grown in many nurseries, but is so large and spreading it is best off in a corner of the shrubbery.

In the old gardens in Europe, the fragrant herbs, clipped like box edgings, have long been arranged in designs like interlacing ribbons and are called knots. Lavender cotton, Santolina chamaecyperus, with its leaves like stiff branches of gray coral, is often chosen for the gray ribbon, while hyssop, winter savory, or rosemary furnish the dark green ones, and feverfew, Pyrethrum parthenium, provides the yellow note. Mazes were made of sheared hyssop, but shearing deprives one of the flowers which are too pretty to be dispensed with, especially since they come in late summer.

Lavender, when grown in Spain or in favored places in England, makes perhaps the handsomest of hedges. When varieties with light and dark blossoms are planted together and placed beside Nankeen lilies or bushes of yellow roses the effect is like a song in color. In my own fragrant garden the lavender bushes grow behind an edging of lavender cotton, and close beside them are the silvery artemisias and in the wall behind misty tufts of pale pink gypsophila, the Gypsophila muralis. Although the rosemary grows beside the lavender in southern France and Spain, where it is so common that the dried bushes are used for kindling, it is not nearly so hardy here, perhaps because it lacks the protection of furry hairs on its leaves.

Where it thrives, it, too, makes a handsome hedge, and a garden bed hedged with either of these two gives off a heady, almost intoxicating, fragrance during the heat of the day. In the south, where the geraniums grow to shrubs, the less spready ones also make deliciously scented hedges.

Herbs, besides making hedges and edgings, serve as good ground covers, where grass cannot be grown, on dry slopes, over rocky soil, or between shrubs. Bacon de-scribed walks paved with burnet, wild thyme, and water mints. I agree about the wild thymes, which creep and snuggle caressingly over the stones on walks or between steps, and when in flower look as if a purple or magenta-colored cushion had been dropped down on the ground. I also like the purple patches they make when they have seeded themselves into the green lawns, although most gardeners consider this a pest. I do not approve, however, of burnet or water mints on walks. Perhaps the Elizabethans lifted their feet higher than we do, or maybe they ruthlessly stepped on the plants, because the flowers of burnet and the branches of mint grow so high that present-day people would have to jump to avoid them and not stumble over them. Bacon also speaks of chamomile as a ground cover, and Shakespeare, in "Henry IV," has Falstaff say, "For though the chamomile, the more it is trod-den on the faster it grows, yet youth, the more it is wasted the sooner it wears." It is a low creeping plant and makes a satisfactory covering, especially on banks and between shrubberies.

When a plant with glossy evergreen foliage is desirable as a ground cover, the winter savory as well as some of its close relatives are most satisfactory. I grow several which resemble the winter savory, Satureia montana, such as S. alpina, S. croatica, S. cuneifolia, and S. kitaebelii. Only alpina and montana are at present obtainable in our country.

Why we do not grow more of the fragrant violets in our gardens is a mystery. The leaves are lush and green and even if the flowers hide behind them, their fragrance is so pervasive one can smell it from afar. Planted under yellow or pink roses or under white tulips they are the most poetic of ground covers. In Spain, flower beds are carpeted with them to act as a mulch.

All through the summer the branches and flowers of herbs make delightful nosegays, in jars, indoors. The borage is handsome alone or with other flowers and lasts well in water after it has been cut, as do the calendulas, bee balms, artemisias, and sages. Branches of rose, nutmeg, or ivy-leaved geraniums give a green note and a perfume to arrangements of scentless flowers like the gladioli and dahlias. The gray branches of southernwood or wormwood go well with white phlox or delphinium; while lavender is handsome with yellow thermopsis; and rue is stunning with orange lilies; Lilium elegans, and clary, Salvia sclarea, makes an effective ensemble with anthemis tinctoria and yellow foxgloves. On a hot day a vase filled with the branches of gray-leaved mints, and the crisped ones, costmary, balm, and marjoram, is cool looking as well as fragrant and unusual.

When we see the flowers prepare to open their corollas, it is time to harvest the thyme, hyssop, and others of the Labiatae, for this is the precise moment when the plants are richest in essential oils. Early on a clear summer morning, while the dew is still on them, I pick the leaves and flowering tops into large baskets and carry them into a little garden house near by which has windows on three sides, and a door on the fourth. The flowering tops are cut off and the older leaves further down are stripped from the stems, which, with all imperfect leaves, are discarded. The leaves and tops are washed and the moisture shaken off them. They are spread out on trays, over which a clean piece of cheesecloth has been laid, and dried indoors. The trays are made of wire screening and are propped up so that the air circulates under as well as over them. Every morning the trays are shaken about to make sure the leaves have all been exposed to the air. In hot weather they dry quickly and are ready for storing the second or third day. The quicker they dry the less chance there is of their becoming mouldy. We have tried heating them over a stove to dry them but do not find this necessary. When dried indoors they generally keep their color quite well, but when dried out-of-doors the sun darkens the leaves, the wind is likely to blow them away, and there is always the fear of a dog or cat playing havoc with them, or of an annoyingly tidy person busying himself with stacking the trays and perhaps mixing up the different herbs.

The dried leaves can be crumbled between the fingers before packing, and as far as I know this does not affect their taste. It is more attractive, however, to keep whole the leaves to be used for the teas.

As soon as they are dry the crisp green leaves are placed in close-stopped containers. For storing the herbs one can have Mason jars, or paper bags, cardboard or japanned boxes such as contain the expensive teas. One of my friends has Italian pottery jars with pewter covers and beautifully lettered labels for them, and when standing in the herb cabinet made expressly for them, they are a sight to stir envy in even the most sweet-natured of herb gardeners.

In olden days the bunches of herbs were hung picturesquely from the rafters, where the heat from the kitchen slowly dried them, and where they collected dust which might or might not add to the delicacy of the food. Much of the fragrance must also have been dissipated.

Leaves and seeds grown and dried at home are far more fragrant than the ones bought at the druggist's or grocer's. Perhaps this is because they are fresher, but it may be due to keeping them shut up in a container and not having to open them for the numerous customers coming into a shop.

Seeds of anise, coriander, fennel, and the like are harvested as they ripen and before they fall to the ground. Dr. Stockberger recommends picking them "a little before they are open in order that they may retain their bright, fresh appearance." They are picked into baskets lined with clean paper, cleaned of their stems, and then washed and the water strained off. Then they, too, are spread out on a clean cloth laid over the trays of wire screening and turned about daily until they are quite dry and ready to be packed into jars.

The roots of horseradish, iris, calamus, and others are generally harvested in the fall, but sometimes in early spring. They are washed and dried. The large fleshy ones are sometimes split and sliced and then spread on clean trays and often turned. The roots can also be dried on racks in fruit dryers hung over the stove. They are dry when they break open upon being bent.