Why Not Eat The Weeds?

Print Friendly, PDF & Email

Add a little bitter cress to your next salad

Native Nibbles And Winsome Weeds

As every gardener knows, weeds are always with us. When we prep and plant beds, whether for ornamentals or edibles or both, removing weeds is almost always a large part of the process. However, as I’ve matured, I’ve found myself growing more relaxed about the presence of weeds. Watching a haze of happy pollinators including hummingbirds (!) feasting at the flowers of plants I was itching to yank makes me pause before pulling. Why not wait a little longer and let the beneficial critters eat their fill? It’s also fascinating to see how many pollinators are showing up, not just bees and bugs and birds but wasps and yellow-jackets as well.

These last are treated like the weeds of the insect world, fit only to die, but a recent study reveals that wasps are in fact important as predators and as pollinators (as are mosquitoes, by the way). For years, it was claimed that wasps are hairless, therefore not effective as pollen packers. In fact, many kinds of wasps are covered in fine hairs that make them quite good at transporting pollen. Here’s a link to a very recent study (published last week) that highlights the ecological contributions made by these maligned insects. Like so many things we humans love to hate, we are quick to remember that wasps can sting but slow to recognize that they also eat aphids and prey on destructive caterpillars and pollinate all sorts of plants, from figs to orchids.

Want to know more? Check it out:

https://www.sciencedaily.com/releases/2021/04/210430093209.htm

Some Weeds Are Still Weeds

That said, some weeds are definitely still on my hit list, especially those that are fast growing and difficult to remove. Even so, it’s worth learning more about the plants we call weeds before we remove them wholesale. For one thing, many of the common plants that make themselves at home in our gardens are beloved by bees, providing nectar and pollen when there’s little else available. In addition, many underrated plants are also both edible and surprisingly flavorful, making intriguing additions to the salad bowl, adding a tasty tang to egg dishes, and adding refreshingly spunky flavors when used as garnish for grilled fish or poultry.

Like what? Well, for starters, how about hairy bitter cress? AKA Cardamine hirsute, I’ve called that pesky little critter many unkind names for its super annoying habit of shooting scads of seeds everywhere, including into my face and eyes. When you yank out a succulent little rosette, consider giving it a rinse and adding it to your next salad. The frilly leaves add a peppery nip to blander greens such as tender young dandelion foliage. The flavor is sometimes compared to watercress, but it puts me more in mind of the zippy taste of radish seedpods (though not as crunchy). A member of the mustard clan, bitter cress gains heat as the plants mature, though it seems like a new crop appears every time I turn around, so there’s never a shortage (damn it).

Bitter Greens, Classic Or Unusual

And dandelions? But of course! Dandelions are much prized in Europe, where they are still carefully gathered every spring. The foliage tastes mild in early spring, but heats up as summer approaches. If you like bitter greens such as arugula, endive, or radicchio, you may want to add a few mature dandelion leaves, slivered into a fine chiffonade, to a bowl of warm brown rice or buckwheat groats. Some folks roast the roots, while others still make wine from the cheerful, shaggy flowers. With so many uses, it’s amazing that these useful plants aren’t snapped up for the kitchen instead of tossed on the compost heap.

I was delighted to learn that bishop’s weed (Aegopodium podagraria) is not only edible but quite flavorsome. This pernicious spreader is the bane of many gardeners, being very eager to grow and extremely hard to eradicate. The variegated form is still sold at nurseries, and I admit that the plant is quite pretty, especially the variegated form. However, it’s utterly implacable, so if someone offers you a few starts, resist, resist, resist! If you, like me, inherit a patch, relentless removal may eventually allow you to plant something else but until every scrap has vanished and no more appears for at least a couple of years, I recommend covering the infested area with deep wood chip mulch piled generously over several layers of heavy burlap sacks. Until such time as bishop’s weed is vanquished, take revenge in adding the young foliage and flowers to salads etc.

Natives To Nibble

Plenty of native plants that appear spontaneously in gardens are usually weeded out, yet quite a few can make good eating. Snipped into salads and smoothies, sprinkled into sandwiches and wraps, tucked into tacos and omelets, our wildlings deliver a potent punch of flavor and nutrients. A favorite among these is Miner’s Lettuce (Claytonia perfoliata), common throughout the Pacific Northwest. Valued as a pleasant spring green for millennia, this willing little annual got its nickname from goldrush prospectors who used it to avoid scurvy, a trick they learned from native people all along the west coast. Miner’s lettuce is easily grown from seed (Ed Hume carries it; it enjoys cool, moist conditions and can be sown along with early lettuces and peas.

Wood sorrel (Oxalis stricta) is another wild thing that’s found in almost every backyard at some point. Like French sorrel (though not related), wild sorrel adds a light, refreshing tang to salads and makes a piquant garnish for creamy soups. My grandkids call it ‘lemon clover’ for the citrusy savor. Stinging nettles, another are also highly prized, used fresh for spring soups and dried for teas and tisanes. Do wear gloves when you pick and prepare them, as the sting is no joke. Years ago, the father of my children fell through the rotting floor of an old chicken coop into a head-high stand of extremely vigorous stinging nettles.

What Stops the Sting

Fortunately he wasn’t allergic to the nettles, as he was pretty well covered with the little stingers (such a situation could be life threatening to someone who was). Even so, it took longer than he appreciated to soothe the rash that resulted. The trick is to wait for at least ten minutes before trying to rinse or brush off the stinging chemicals. Once these chemicals dry, gently wash the skin with mild soap and water, then pat affected areas with a dilute solution of vinegar. If you aren’t near water, gently dab on the juice of a large dock weed, which helps neutralize the sting. To remove any lingering nettle hairs, gently press duct tape or packing tape on ares that remain painful; pulling away the tape will usually remove the tiny, irritating hairs. Usually.

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , | Leave a comment

Celebrating With Flowers

Print Friendly, PDF & Email

May Day is on the way, are you ready?

Nurturing Neighborliness on May Day

This week has been rainy and cool and I’ve been eagerly eyeing local flowers; will they last another few days? A strong of warm, dry days brought on a flurry of flowers, but many hastily browned off in the unseasonal heat. At this time of year, there’s always something lovely waiting in the wings but I have a special reason for wanting to find flourishing flowers by Friday. Saturday is May Day, and I want to celebrate the old tradition of making flower-filled May baskets for friends and neighbors. It’s such a simple way to give a little pleasure to our neighbors, and something that’s pretty much guaranteed to please. Who wouldn’t be heartened and comforted to find a little bundle of beauty hanging on their doorknob?

When I was a child in Massachusetts, kids all over the country spent the last days of April making little baskets to fill with flowers. The first day of May was observed almost exclusively by children as a simple celebration of the arrival of spring. We delivered our little baskets as secretly as we could, dangling them on our neighbors’ doors, ringing the bell, then rushing, giggling, to hide in the nearest bushes. We’d watch happily as our elders graciously pretended not to hear or see us, loudly expressing their pleasure in our sweet, childish offerings.

Simple And Informal

In elementary school, the art teacher taught us several ways to make baskets. In kindergarten, we rolled construction paper into cones and pasted on paper strips for handles. By grade school, we mastered baskets made like a paper cocked hat; fold a letter sized sheet in half length-wise, then again (but lightly this time) in half width-wise. Bring the two ends of the folded edge in and up to create a cone with a closed point. Fold the upper edge flaps down to make the pointy little “hat”. Flip the hat upside-down and it becomes a little basket. Tape or staple on a handle of paper or ribbon, line the cone with waxed paper or an old plastic bag and it’s ready to fill with flowers, bunched up, with their cut ends rolled up in a damp paper towel. Making these little flower bundles takes me straight back to Second Grade art class and my immense pride in mastering the art of the May basket.

As for the filling, almost anything will do. I always searched the spring garden for whatever was in bloom, which could vary wildly depending on the length and severity of the Massachusetts winter. Usually the mini bouquets combined fragrant lily of the valley and sticky azalea blossoms with velvety pansies, and they always included a few bluebells and dandelions. Though adults see them as weeds to eradicate, children and bees see dandelions as beautiful, like glowing, shaggy little stars. Just as I did, my grandkids now appreciate the adorable way that hollow dandelion stems curl up at the base, forming tight little coils.

Handwoven heart baskets are fun for kids to make

Enjoying The Common

This year, the grandkids are making some now-traditional living May Day garden baskets, using saved pint-sized cardboard berry boxes. Lined with waxed paper, the flat boxes are filled with a handful of potting soil, then clumps of moss, the ubiquitous wild violets and tiny lawn daisies are tucked in to make enchanting mini gardens. For these, we use criss-crossed pipe cleaner handles, taped and stapled for strength since planted baskets are heavier than the usual kind. It’s devastating to see a lovingly filled basket hanging upside down from a door knob, its broken flowers scattered, so sturdy handles are a must.

We’re also making woven paper heart baskets in cheerful colors to fill with handfuls of garden bounty. This Friday, I’ll be filling several dozen of them for a special project, as well as making some for neighbors, so finding a lot of flowers will be especially important this year. They don’t have to be fancy flowers; in fact, the more common, the better. Part of the joyfulness of such artless tussy-mussies is the way they turn the ordinary extraordinary. If we walk by a tangle of rank grass and dandelions, we may smile a bit at their golden cheer, but a single blossom begs and repays more careful inspection.

The Intricacy Of Nature

Indeed, even a carelessly chosen assortment of the most common of garden blooms becomes beguiling, rewarding close attention with unsuspected beauties. Examine almost any flower with a magnifying glass and you’ll discover a wealth of astonishing details, from delicately frilled petals to stamens temptingly tipped with trembling anthers laden with pollen in various shades of cinnamon and gold. Nature is famously generous, pouring out beauty unstintingly, and with seemingly endless levels of detail. No wonder bees love to burrow into the heart of each blossom, wriggling in a dance of delight; it must be like having a luxurious wallow in a soft, cushy pillow while enjoying a delectable dinner from an insect’s point of view.

No matter what the weather will do this week, I’m not really worried about finding enough flowers to fill my little baskets. I’ve got my eye on a large patch of calendulas, always cheerful and sunny in citrus colors. My daily stroll takes me past vacant lots bright with clouds of forget-me-nots in spring-sky blue, and sheaves of Spanish bluebells in blues, white and pink. No matter where I walk, I’m sure to find as many dandelions as any heart could wish. I’ll fill in any gaps with sprigs of rosemary, lemon balm and mint for added fragrance, as well as some variegated Euonymus and trails of Vinca minor, all too abundant in local alleys. Even if I’m all I can find are these most plentiful and ordinary of garden blooms, they’ll still make enchanting little bouquets to greet each recipient with the sight and scent of spring.

 

 

Posted in Gardening With Children, Hardy Herbs, Pollination Gardens, Sustainable Gardening, Sustainable Living, Teaching Gardening | Tagged | Leave a comment

Edible or Ornamental? Why Not Both!

Print Friendly, PDF & Email

Common oregano is uncommonly handsome

Oreganos For Kitchen And Garden

This past week, I’ve been working on designs for three very different gardens, two public and one private. The private one is my own, and the simplest; a modest P-Patch, formerly a raised bed. In departing, the previous gardener removed both the wooden sides and the top foot or so of soil, leaving a sloping mound of weary earth. As I’ve recently mentioned, I’m restoring the bed to health by heaping on compost and planting peas and beans to add nitrogen to the soil. One of the public projects is at our local Senior Center, where a group of hardy volunteers will similarly renovate the soil before replanting the main entrance bed with an array of tough, easy-going evergreen plants. The third project is a still-under-construction play area at a local park, where challenges include full sun and frequent but erratic foot traffic. In each case, my solution to a number of issues is the same: oregano.

Really? Yup. In my own plot, transplanted clumps of oregano are already starting to spread along the sloping bed edges. By summer’s end, the edging will be complete, stabilizing the slope so I can heap on still more compost without worrying that winter rain will wash it away. At the Senior Center, a variety of oreganos will perform a similar task as the clumps knit together, anchoring soil along the edge of the bed and providing evergreen ground cover year round. In the park setting, sheets of oreganos will alternate with large patches of mint, creating tough, enduring ground covers that will stand up bravely to the playful meanderings of a multitude of active kiddos.

A Plant Of Many Virtues

Hardy, perennial, drought and deer resistant, and almost disease-free, oreganos are among my favorite evergreen border edgers for full sun situations. Edible or ornamental, their small but profuse flowers are always lovely, even in their dried stage, making them a welcome addition to the winter garden as well. Like many plants that hail from stony, sunny Mediterranean regions, oreganos look most at home when partnered with rocks and grasses. One favorite combination of mine is to pair a prolific bloomer, Hopley’s Purple oregano, with airy pink Muhly grass (Muhlenbergia capillaris), a dream of pastel prettiness for months on end. I also like to let golden oregano tumble over rocks, along with softly waving clumps of Mexican Feather grass (Nasella tenuissima), or match vigorous Greek mountain oregano with coppery Pheasant Tail grass (Anemanthele lessoniana).

A willing and vigorous spreader, oregano grows best in full sun and open, well drained soil. It’s not a threat to run, though the larger, more robust forms can certainly swamp daintier companions. Again like many Mediterraneans, oreganos prefer poor, lean soils over rich ones; excess nutrients and water dilute their zesty flavors, and heavy soils can encourage root rots in oreganos. As with thyme, sage, and lavender, oreganos are most compact, shapely and flavorful when grown in sandy loam (which I used mounded over native clay soils). An annual top dressing of compost or aged dairy manure will keep these hardy herbs happy for many years, but commercial fertilizers promote lax, looser growth and reduce the intensity of the volatile oils that provide scent and savor.

Highly Ornamental Oreganos

Though edible, many of the highly ornamental oreganos are not as flavorful as the culinary varieties. What they do provide is year round good looks, from the tight winter carpets to billowy masses of blooms that persist well into winter. My favorite Hopley’s Purple (Origanum laevigatum) actually tastes pretty good, but I value it most as an effortless edger that needs only an annual post-bloom trim to look good all year. Smaller and less lusty, Kent Beauty (O. rotundifolium x O. scabrum) spills sheaves of pink and green bracts in ruffled clusters above grey-green foliage, a good choice for a hanging basket in full sun. A sister version of the same cross, Barbara Tingey boasts blue-grey foliage and similarly tinted bracts that overlap to form rounded balls that dangle from wiry stems like cat toys. Another hybrid, Amethyst Falls, offers chartreuse to silvery pink, hoplike bracts, overlapping like fish scales, each involucre plump and tapering as magical mermaids tails tipped with hot pink florets.

A highly ornamental form of culinary oregano, Bristol Grass (sometimes sold as Bristol Cross), combines fine-textured foliage with long-stemmed, slim bracts shaded green to pale purple, with swinging floral skirts of lively pink. Like the other danglers, it’s especially good in hanging baskets or tall containers. Dittany of Crete (Origanum dictamnus), a diminutive Greek wildflower, makes a lovely rock garden plant, its silver-frosted foliage setting off cascades of pink bracts ending in silvery lavender flowers. Tenderest of all the oreganos I’ve grown, dittany demands extremely sharp drainage and full sun all day.

Kitchen And Garden Oreganos

Most kitchen oreganos are forms of Origanum vulgare, native throughout Europe and the Mediterranean and into Asia. A traditional medicinal plant, it’s also been a common culinary herb for thousands of years. Many of its forms and subspecies have been selected and preserved by gardeners and cooks and today, a little searching will introduce you to oreganos that offer a surprisingly wide range of tastes and textures. The straight species forms dense mounds of aromatic, deep green foliage, threaded in summer with soft purple flowers on slim stems up to 2 feet high. Though less assertive than Greek oreganos, most forms of O. vulgare have a lively flavor.

There are quite a few variegated forms of which Aureum Gold is is particularly pretty in the spring, spreading in cheerful splashes of lemony yellow. Golden Crinkled (O. vulgare crispum) is especially compact (to about 6”) and the quilted leaves are attractive and tasty as garnish or in salads. Westacre Gold (O. vulgare variegata) boasts old gold foliage and rosy flowers on foot-high, copper-pink stems. Another form simply called Variegated (O. vulgare variegata) marries olive green leaves edged with butter and cream with white to pink flowers. All of these can double as ornamental ground covers and will thrive in any sunny, well-drained setting, taking a surprising amount of foot traffic in stride once well established. What’s not to love?

 

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged , | 1 Comment

Nurturing Warm Garden Friendships

Print Friendly, PDF & Email

Planting a garden of hope in Alaska

Befriending The Garden

As the days begin to warm up, it’s hard to stay out of the garden. Even on busy days, I find myself sneaking out for a quick putter, putting off even important tasks for a lovely few minutes of plant primping. It’s been surprisingly dry and windy for April so I’m also deep-watering the beds and troughs as well as pots and flats of plants ready for transplanting. Several passersby expressed surprise to see me watering in April but the soil is already as dry as it usually would be in mid May, which is to say, very dry. By watering well now and spreading a comforting mulch of compost and cow manure, I’m hoping to encourage deep rooting and help the soil retain as much moisture as possible. Though snowpack along the West Coast is ample in the North and near normal in Oregon, California and Eastern parts of Cascadia look to be in for another hot, dry summer. Even if it turns out to be another cold, dry summer along the coast, it’s wise to start things off as well as possible.

The prospect of hot and dry is a bit difficult to imagine right now, as yet another frosty April morning has spangled rooftops and cars with icy frosting. Though the night temperature was nominally in the mid 30s, temperature gauges are set at various heights above the ground, and even a few feet of elevation can mean the difference of several degrees, since cold air sinks. I’m keeping my eye on night temperatures, as they affect soil temps as much or more than daytime temps. The frosty mornings have set my planting plans back a bit but so far, my peas and sweet-peas are flourishing in large pots and seem undaunted by chilly nights. I really can’t complain (although I seem to be): my friend Les is still dealing with snow and all he can plant is hope.

Befriending

Though we live a thousand miles apart, Les and I have been garden friends for decades. We have quite a few interest in common, but we mostly correspond about our gardens, swapping pictures and stories about new beds and benches or fences as well as plants. Years ago, he wintered over anything that might not withstand the bitter Alaskan temperatures in an insulated pit, which he later abandoned after finding his plants nibbled and the pit full of a squirrel’s food trove, including psychedelic mushrooms. Alaska, it’s different. By this time of year, Les has covered all surfaces in the kitchen with seed trays and plant starts, including the oven racks. It takes an enormous amount of preparation, but his garden is truly incredibly beautiful in its short season, a miracle of loveliness from June through August. Then, it snows. Boom.

Over time, I realized that although Les is indeed a horthead who adores plants, he has a much deeper relationship with his garden. In fact, he befriends it. All those handsome gates and fences and benches are not just ornaments but are loving gifts to the garden, given as one might present an irresistibly ideal gift to a beloved friend. I’ve thought about that often as I tend my soil, which is as precious to me as my own dear plants. I want the best for both the soil and the plants, and for the garden itself, for any well loved garden becomes an entity and has a distinctive self.

Intimacy And Trust

I recently read a fascinating reflection that called out the huge social shifts that have redefined friendship in modern times. The ancients valued friendship highly, naming ‘intimacy, trust, commitment and loyalty’ as key attributes. Many contemporary relationships are what our ancestors might have termed mere or even warm acquaintance, perfectly suitable for co-workers or associates of various kinds, but not deep enough to merit the term ‘true friendship’. It made me smile to recognize that I count my cat and my garden among my ‘true friends’, as well as some actual people. All of them have shared vertiginous rollercoaster life events, mine and their own, over the years. That definitely makes for trust. Sharing painful and heartbreaking situations makes for strong bonds of intimacy as well; friends who understand and empathize without judgment are priceless.

Over the years, I’ve easily felt as much loyalty and commitment to and from my garden as from any of my friends, dear as they are. Various studies show that cats and other pets develop more character and personality when treated as family members, and I would venture to say that our gardens do as well. Certainly the ambiance of a garden reflects the way it is perceived and cared for. Strolling through a manicured landscape rarely offers the kind of experience found in visiting gardens that are loved and cherished. Gardens that are loved have a decidedly positive, pleasant atmosphere, differing in kind but not in quality. One may feel cheerful, another peaceful, but all beloved gardens have a strong character, and not necessarily that of the current gardener, as old gardens can outlast their makers, sometimes by centuries, developing character as key plants develop.

Peace And Comfort And Hope

The lure of the garden is especially strong these days, when the world is still reeling from the ongoing shocks of Covid19 and endlessly exposed inequities, racism, corporate greed and filthy politics. It’s a privilege and a blessing to be able to turn away from dire news reports to spread compost and plant peas. Even a little while spent sowing seeds feels peaceful. Potting up runaway strawberries lacing through a bed and setting free their crowded companions feels comforting. Seeing cuttings struck last fall springing into new life feels hopeful. Puttering among my plants, watching them awaken and stretch and put on new growth feels like time spent with good friends; refreshing, relaxing, and quietly joyful. As I nurture my garden, it nurtures me in turn, over and over, without fail. Surely there’s no better definition of a true friendship.

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged , | 2 Comments