• White bellflower (Campanula persicifolia “Alba”). Flowers in summer.
Read more about gardens that glow in the dark:
The Evening Garden: Flowers and Fragrance from Dusk Till Dawn, by Peter Loewer
MAY 7
Today is National Roast Leg of Lamb Day.
“There’s an herb sauce for everything, including lamb.”
—MYRA MERRYWEATHER
The Merryweathers Do Mint
At their regular monthly get-togethers, the Merryweathers celebrate a particular herb. This month, China says, it was mint. Henrietta Henchman kicked off the meeting with a somewhat surprising report on how mint got to be mint: It seems that Pluto was carrying on with a pretty young thing named Mentha. When his wife, Persephone, found out about it, she turned Mentha into a plant and sent her crawling away. Pluto, she banished to the underworld for three-quarters of the year. He could only come up when it got cold enough to freeze the toes off a brass monkey.
Everything that followed this sensational revelation seemed a little anticlimactic, China told me. But Mrs. Henchman gave some good tips on culinary mint, including this one: Store a bunch of mint in the refrigerator, stems down, in a glass of water with a plastic bag over the top. (You can put parsley in the same glass; they’ll get along without fighting.) And Fannie Couch came up with several strategies for keeping mint, a notorious garden bully, from taking over the neighborhood. “Plant it in a pot, and plant the pot inside another pot, and plant both in the ground,” she said. “When that doesn’t work, pull. Growl fiercely and mutter curses while pulling. If all else fails, lock it in the garden shed and throw away the key.”
Then there was a recipe exchange—sauces, this time. This is China’s favorite.
SISSY SMILES’ CILANTRO-MINT YOGURT SAUCE
½ cup chopped fresh mint, packed
½ cup chopped fresh cilantro, packed
1 fresh jalapeño or serrano chile, seeded and chopped
2 garlic cloves, minced
1 tablespoon lemon juice
3 tablespoons water
¾ cup plain yogurt
salt to taste
mint sprig for garnish
Put mint, cilantro, jalapeño, garlic, and lemon juice into a blender. Add up to 3 tablespoons water and process until smooth. Whip yogurt in a bowl until creamy. Fold in cilantro mixture. Add salt to taste, and garnish with a sprig of mint. Makes about 1½ cups. Spoon over grilled chicken, shrimp, or lamb.
And don’t miss the Merryweathers’ Annual Basil Festival, coming June 14!
Read more about mint:
Growing and Cooking with Mint: Storey Country Wisdom Bulletin A-145, by Glenn Andrews
MAY 8
On this date in 1886, the first Coca-Cola was sold.
The cultivation and trade of coca is a very important enterprise and of the greatest significance.
—JUAN MATIENZO, REPRESENTATIVE OF COCA GROWERS, IN A
LETTER TO KING PHILLIP II, 1566
Coca is a thing without benefit . . . and takes the lives of many.
—THE SECOND COUNCIL OF LIMA, TO KING PHILLIP II, 1569
Coca-Cola: The World’s Most Popular Herbal Drink
In 1886, in a three-legged kettle in his Atlanta, Georgia, backyard, Dr. John S. Pemberton brewed a carbonated, nonalcoholic, herbal tonic that he called Pemberton’s French Wine Coca. Pemberton’s formula called for 5 ounces of coca leaf (the source of cocaine) per gallon of syrup. The coca’s hefty kick was boosted by a generous dose of the caffeine-rich kola nut; hence: Coca-Cola.
The first glass of Pemberton’s tonic was sold to the public at Jacob’s Pharmacy on May 8, 1886, for five cents. Originally advertised as “valuable brain-tonic and cure for all nervous afflictions,” a glass of Coke contained about 60 milligrams of cocaine. After Asa Chandler bought the company and began distributing syrup for bottled Coke, the drink’s popularity soared. But the dangers of cocaine were recognized, and public disapproval mounted. The drug was removed from the drink by 1903, the company insisting that the “spent leaves” of coca were used for flavoring only.
Coca was first used by the ancient Incas of Peru, where coca-induced trance states were part of their religious ceremonies. The Spanish conquistadors introduced coca to Europe, and in 1853, its active ingredient was isolated and named cocaine. The drug became enormously popular and was used by such notables as Sigmund Freud, Robert Louis Stevenson, Sherlock Holmes, and polar explorer Ernest Shackle-ton. It was sold over the counter in tonics, toothache cures, and patent medicines; in chocolate cocaine candies; and in cigarettes “guaranteed to lift depression.” Cocaine was banned in the U.S. in 1914, and outlawed under The Dangerous Drug Act of 1920.
Those of us who appreciate herbs often think of them as “warm and fuzzy” plants used for good and pleasant purposes. The story of coca’s transition from limited use of the whole leaf for religious purposes to the use of the extract as a recreational drug provides us with another view: a sad commentary on humans’ misuse and abuse of plants.
Read more about coca and the drink it made famous:
A Brief History of Cocaine, by Steven B. Karch, M.D.
For God, Country, and Coca-Cola: A Definitive History of the Great American Soft Drink and the Company that Makes It, by Mark Pendergrast
MAY 9
On this day in 1914, President Woodrow Wilson issued a proclamation asking Americans to celebrate Mother’s Day.
And so our mothers and grandmothers have, more often than not anonymously, handed on the creative spark, the seed of the flower they themselves never hoped to see—or like a sealed letter they could not plainly read.
—ALICE WALKER, “IN SEARCH OF OUR MOTHERS’ GARDENS”
Peonies for Mother’s Day
The carnation became a symbol of Mother’s Day because President William McKinley wore a white one in honor of his mother. White carnations are fine. I have nothing against them. But my mother’s peonies always bloomed on Mother’s Day, and to me, those extravagant floppy flowers are emblematic of a mother’s love.
THE MEDICINAL, MAGICAL PEONY
In traditional Chinese medicine, the roots and bark of the peony were used to “cool the blood” and treat bacterial infections. In medieval Europe, the peony was a cure-all remedy for gall stones, jaundice, sore gums, and more. Because it was associated with the moon (large, white, round), it was thought to be a remedy for lunacy, as well as for epilepsy, nightmares, and nervous disorders. Peony seeds were swallowed whole to prevent bad dreams, or used in a poultice to relieve stomachaches, while the flower petals were dried and brewed in a tea to ease coughs.
In Europe, peonies were planted near the door to keep evil from entering the house. In England, the seeds were strung and hung as necklaces around children’s necks, to keep them from being carried off by fairies and witches. An odd number of flowers on a plant was a sign that death would come before the year was out. In Renaissance England, there was only one way to harvest the root of this dangerous plant: Like the magical mandrake, it had to be pulled out of the ground with a rope attached to a dog.
The peony was one of those flowers that sent a mixed message. White peonies symbolized purity, chastity, and virtue. The red peony, blushing, signified shame. It is said that proper Victorian ladies refused to plant the red peony in their gardens. My grandmother must have been an improper lady; she loved her red peonies above all others.
For me, the peony’s magic is never dangerous, only alluring. I can’t grow it here at Meadow Knoll (it requires colder weather to bloom). But I will always remember my mother’s and grandmother’s delight in its wonderful floppy blossoms. When I see it, I think of them.
A necklace of beads turned from Poeony roots and hung round an infant’s neck will prevent convulsions when teething.
—TRADITIONAL, FROM SUSSEX, ENGLAND
MAY 10
Making Paper with Plants, Part One
When Maggie Bruce invited me to contribute to a collection of craft-th
emed who-dunnits entitled Murder Most Crafty, I said yes immediately, and thought of writing about handmade paper. In fact, the research for this short story led me to start making my own paper—and to write a book-length China Bayles mystery, Spanish Dagger, featuring a paper artist (available in 2007). I’m hooked!
Papermaking is a fascinating craft, with encouraging results from the beginning. You can use your handmade paper in hundreds of ways: as note paper, holiday cards, calling cards, journal and scrapbook pages, collages, lampshades, gift boxes, book covers, and more. And to add to the pleasure, you’ll be using herbs and flowers from your own garden. Love-in-a-mist, pinks, southernwood, borage, thyme, fern, and fennel are among the herbs I’ve grown and used in paper. Here’s an easy project based on recycled paper, from China’s adventure, “The Collage to Kill For.” (Part One of this topic contains the list of supplies; Part Two, May 11, contains the instructions. Read both before you begin.)
CHINA BAYLES’ HERBS & FLOWERS PAPER PROJECT
To make the paper pulp, you’ll need these items: white copy paper (with no printing) rosemary leaves
bits of fern
tiny leaves of thyme, savory, southernwood, or other small-leaved herbs
petals from roses, marigolds, borage, pinks, or other small blossoms
liquid starch (an optional sizing, for writing paper only)
a blender
a 1- or 2-quart pan
water
To make the mold, you’ll need: fiberglass window screening, about 10 inches × 12 inches a wooden picture frame, about 8 inches × 10 inches staples or tacks
To make the paper, you’ll need: a plastic dish pan, to serve as the vat 6 damp felts (Handiwipes cut in half are convenient and cheap) a cookie sheet (on which to stack the post of felts and paper) a damp sponge a second cookie sheet (to press the post)
Read about China’s adventure in papermaking:
“The Collage to Kill For,” by Susan Wittig Albert, in Murder Most Crafty, edited by Maggie Bruce
MAY 11
Making Paper with Plants, Part Two
To make the mold, stretch the fiberglass screening over the wooden frame and staple or tack it as tightly as possible.
To make the pulp, tear the paper into enough small pieces to fill the blender half full. Add warm water to within 2 inches of the top. Start the blender at a slower speed; increase until the pulp is smooth and thoroughly blended. For writing paper, add 2 teaspoons of liquid starch. (This sizing helps to keep ink from bleeding.) Remove stems from petals and leaves, separate. Bring a quart of water to boil. Add petals and leaves and blanch for 4-5 minutes. Strain. Add petals and leaves to the pulp and stir gently.
To begin making the paper, pour the pulp into the vat. Repeat this process twice more, until you have the contents of three blenders in the vat. Now, add enough warm water to fill the vat about three-quarters full. Stir this slurry with your hands to mix. The thicker the slurry, the thicker the paper. Add water or pulp until it is the consistency of pancake batter.
To create a sheet of paper, pick up the mold by the short sides, holding it with the mesh side up. Dip the mold into the pulp-filled vat, at about a 45-degree angle. Scoop it under the surface of the pulp. Lift it quickly but steadily out of the slurry, aiming for a smooth, fairly thin layer of pulp on top of the mold. If you’re not satisfied, turn the mold over and dump the pulp into the slurry. If the sheet looks okay, shake the mold left to right and back to front to lock the pulp fibers together and produce a uniformly-thick sheet of paper.
Lay a damp felt on the cookie sheet. Place one long edge of the mold on the felt, the wet sheet of paper facing the felt. Gently lay the mold flat, so that the paper is lying directly on the damp felt. With the damp sponge, blot the back of the mold to take up the excess water. Holding down one edge of the mold, slowly lift the other. The wet sheet of paper should remain on the felt. Place another damp felt on top of the sheet of paper.
To make additional sheets of paper, stir the pulp with your hands and make another sheet. Stack the sheets of paper and the felts on top of one another as you work.
To press the paper, carry the cookie sheet outdoors, or put it in the bathtub, so that you don’t have a mess to clean up. Then use the second cookie sheet to press the remaining water out of the post.
To dry the paper, gently separate the felts, clip them to coat hangers, and hang them to dry. When nearly so, gently pull off the paper and iron it dry.
To save your pulp, dump the remaining slurry into a colander to drain. Put it into a plastic bag and refrigerate or freeze it. NEVER pour pulp down the drain—it will clog!
Read about making paper with the herbs in your garden:
Grow Your Own Paper: Recipes for Creating Unique Handmade Papers, by Maureen Richardson
MAY 12
In some calendars, the Celtic Tree Month of Hawthorn begins tomorrow.
Hawthorn was intimately connected to all aspects of village life, especially that conducted around village wells.
—JACQUELINE MEMORY PATERSON, TREE WISDOM
The Decorating of the Wells
About this time of year, it was the custom in many English villages to “dress the well,” or decorate the village spring from which everyone drew water. This ancient ceremony is thought to have originated from pagan times, a ritual of thanksgiving for the clear, cool water that seemed to magically persist through even the most severe droughts. Another possibility: The custom may have been introduced by the Romans, for the philosopher Seneca suggests that “where springs or rivers flow we should build altars and make sacrifices.” However it began, it was banned (as were most pagan rituals) by Catholic priests. The tradition was surreptitiously maintained in some villages, particularly in the county of Derbyshire, where herbs and flowers are inserted in elaborate designs, in shallow frames filled with damp clay and placed beside the well.
The connection of hawthorn and the wells was an important one, for hawthorn was thought to be an herb of fertility and abundance, and many thorns still flourish around old wells. As a magical tree, it was supposed to guard the place where the water sprang forth from the earth, and where the veil between the worlds of matter and spirit was thought to be at its thinnest. Where the hawthorn grew, the friendly fairies gathered, and all was well. Believing that the spirits would live in the well only if they were remembered and respectfully addressed, neighbors from the area brought offerings of flowers to the tree and the well, and celebrated the occasion with stories of the magical happenings there. When the priests came, they revised the stories, so that springs were said to have appeared where saints were beheaded, or had slain dragons, or where the Virgin appeared and left her footprints in the stone.
If you have water in your garden—a pool, a pond, a small fountain—you might like to re-create this ancient celebration of water’s power to cleanse, renew, and heal. Perhaps you could plant a hawthorn tree, or decorate your pool or fountain with spring herbs and flowers, or simply sit beside the water and drink a quiet cup of herbal tea, remembering the importance of clean, clear water in our lives, and saying thank you.
Explore mystic water, powerful plants:
Sacred Waters: Holy Wells and Water Lore in Britain and Ireland, by Janet Bord
MAY 13
Today is National Tulip Day.
How could such sweet and wholesome hours
Be reckoned but with herbs and flowers?
—ANDREW MARVEL, 1621-1678
Tulips on the Menu
Bertha Reppert introduced many of us to the delights of herbs at her Rosemary House, in Mechanicsburg, Pennsylvania. In her book, Mrs. Reppert’s Twelve-Month Herbal, she describes tulip cups:
... I ventured out to gather eight matched red tulip flowers for a luncheon. They will be stuffed with chicken salad . . . to which I plan to add water chestnuts, grated carrot for more color, a touch of new green chives, hard-boiled egg, and black olive halves, and, most importantly, chopped up tulip stems which look and taste like ra
w peas. This festive platter will draw gasps of admiration because the perky red tulip cups always excite comment. Yes, they are edible, although eating the tulip is each person’s option. . . . The pretty salad will be garnished with Johnny-jump-ups. I’ll put one of the smiling Johnnies in each goblet of water as well.
If you’d like to impress your luncheon guests with tulip cups, be sure to use only unsprayed flowers from your garden. Cut off the stem at the base of the cup, so that it sits flat, and remove the pistils and stamens. To fill easily, place each tulip cup in a muffin-pan cup. Chill in the pan for one hour before serving, and get ready for those compliments!
THE TALE OF THE TULIP
The tulip began as a wildflower in western Turkey. A famous legend tells of a prince, whose lover was killed, he mounted his favorite horse and rode off a cliff to his death. From each drop of his blood, a scarlet tulip was said to have sprung up, so that the flower became a symbol of undying love.
In the late 1500s, tulips found their way to Holland. There, an extensive breeding program quickly resulted in exotic flowers that became a status symbol and the center of frenzied speculation. By the 1630s, bulbs were selling for exorbitant prices; one bulb went for 6,000 florins, when the average annual Dutch salary was 150 florins. They were traded on the stock exchanges, and some people, suffering from tulipomania, literally sold everything they possessed to buy tulips. The bubble burst in 1637—an event comparable to the Crash of 1929—and thousands of people were ruined. Luckily for us, the tulip survived.
China Bayles' Book of Days Page 19
