Poland — Where the buffalo roam?

I love all herbs. In my mind’s garden, I picture them in little compartments, just like in a real herb patch.

While teaching English in Poland in 1990 and again in 1992, my husband and I learned about lots of interesting “Polish” herbs. For example, many people there grow myrtle in pots on window sills. And although this ‘Venus’ herb originates from the Mediterranean region, they consider it to be the “Polish wedding herb.”

Another Polish herb we learned about is sweet vernalgrass (Hierochloe odorata or Anthoxanthum nitens) also known as vanilla grass or buffalo grass, which the Poles add to vodka. They call the plant trawa Zubrowka.

To prepare your own Zubrowka vodka, insert one or two blades of grass and a tablespoon of white sugar into a bottle of vodka. Shake the bottle, and then store it in a warm place for three to six weeks. The vodka is ready when it turns a soft yellow/green color.

On both of our trips to Poland, we spent some time in the beautiful primeval forest of Bialowieza in Eastern Poland where Zubrowka grass grows. Bialowieza is famous for the 300 rare European bison that roam the forest. The bison love to eat the grass!

Ted and I took a memorable tour of the forest in a horse-drawn wagon and also enjoyed several wonderful walks on our own. One afternoon, we rented bikes and rode through the little town of mostly wooden homes. Every home had a lovely garden in place of the customary lawn. It was hard to decide what to photograph! We pondered what causes such a beautiful tradition to develop.

We cannot imagine returning to Poland without another visit to this wonderful spot.

submitted by Lorraine Kiefer, South Jersey Unit
website: www.tripleoaks.com

Editor’s notes:

• If you are in the Mid-Atlantic area, please join Lorraine Kiefer and other HSA members at their annual Herb Weekend, May 25 and 26, at Triple Oaks Nursery & Herb Garden, Franklinville, N.J.  Visit the website to sign up for Lorraine’s e-mail newsletter and to receive a schedule of this herbal event.
• Most years Triple Oaks Nursery and Herb Garden carries sweet vernalgrass in their New Jersey garden center. You also can find sources for it online.
• To learn more about the bison of the Bialowieza Forest, watch this CNN video “Eye on Poland” on YouTube.

Prickly Pear: An Herb to Watch OUCH For

The prickly pear cactus (Opuntia lindheimeri) is in bloom in our Texas meadows now, and the bees are crawling drunkenly over the bright yellow flowers, as large as hollyhock blossoms. We’ve cleared most of this prickly native herb from our meadows because the spines are painful when we carelessly blunder into the plant, or (heaven forbid!) our dogs step on it. But I’ve safeguarded a few, because they’re beautiful and useful and because they remind me that not all plants are easy to get along with.

The prickly pear’s translucent yellow flowers ripen into ruby-red fruits, called tunas. I’ve made these into juice, jelly, and syrup. I’ve harvested the young, tender pads, called nopalitos. Do wear leather gloves if you do this: I speak from personal experience when I say that this plant is spiny. If you don’t know a prickly pear up close and personal that will offer you a few pads, you can sometimes find them in your supermarket’s produce section.

Research suggests that the nutrient-rich fiber in the fruits and pads helps to reduce cholesterol. Native peoples singed the spines from the pads, then split and warmed them for use as a poultice to relieve chest congestion. They placed warmed pads over the ears for earache, or over rheumatic or arthritic joints. The gelatinous sap (which is a lot like aloe vera gel) was a soothing skin lotion for rashes and sunburn, and they mashed the flesh of the pad and used it as a poultice to heal wounds and burns. Taken internally, the plant treated many gastrointestinal disorders.

And like most native herbs, prickly pear served many purposes. In rural Mexico, it was used (with water, lime, and salt) to make a durable, waterproof paint for walls, and as a formidable fence—just try getting through that dense, thorny wall! Its fibers were used to make paper and its thorns as needles and pins, while the insect that feeds on its pads and fruit (the cochineal) made red dye. Like many other natives, this durable, adaptable plant has its darker side: free to roam, it can be an invasive pest.

But I’m not thinking about that today, as I revel in those beautiful blooms. I’m thinking about the many native herbs which, like prickly pear, were important to earlier people—the buffalo gourd that grows in the south pasture, the cattails in the marsh, the redbud trees, the willows. They teach me about the place where I live, about the richness and bounty of the land, and remind me that I live in a beautiful wilderness garden.

submitted by Susan Wittig Albert, Honorary President Herb Society of America
website: www.susanalbert.com
blog: www.susanalbert.typepad.com/lifescapes

editor’s note:
Native Habitat: Nevada, Utah, California, Arizona, New Mexico, Oklahoma and Texas, as well the Mojave, Sonoran and Chihuahuan deserts. Grows in well-drained sand, loam, clay, and caliche in zones 5 – 10. (www.wildflower.org)

Just say “Yes!”

Because I work in the ego-crushing atmosphere of a high volume sales office, I find the need for an occasional morale booster. So when my husband asked me to accompany him on a business trip to the Berkshire Mountains of Massachusetts, I felt compelled to say “Yes.” Normally, I am more likely to offer a quick “No,” but I saw this trip as an opportunity for a much-needed break and a chance to tour the gardens of the area.

One of my garden stops included Project Native, which sells indigenous plants that grew in the region prior to the arrival of European settlers. This sounds like a noble initiative, but the truth is I primarily found the common goldenrod, pokeweed, and sumac that I tend to take for granted. Closer inspection, though, yielded some more interesting discoveries like purple angelica, Jack in the pulpit, wild orchids, and Sambucus Canadensis (American Elderberry), a plant I have been on the hunt for since discovering its tremendous dyeing properties.

Next stop was the Berkshire Botanical Garden in Stockbridge Massachusetts. The public display gardens offered a colorful array of lush greens, purples, maroons, and the brilliant orange hues of autumn. The succulent-covered roof garden was fun and the themed herb gardens including: fragrance, cooking, and Hogwarts, were inspirational.

a sunny herb bed at Berkshire Botanical Gardens

My last garden visit was to the Hancock Shaker Village, which is, perhaps, the antithesis of Project Native. The herb and vegetable gardens were expansive and the sheer variety of herbs was overwhelming. Each plant was labeled with a simple marker referencing the common name, scientific name, and a brief explanation of its use. The grounds provided a clear vision of how critically important herbs were to the Shaker community.

the only round stone barn ever built by the Shakers

While away on my gardening stint, I received a request from my local Herb Society unit to create a NorthEast Seacoast unit page on Facebook. Again, I was compelled to say “Yes,” followed by a silent . . . “Yikes!” But how fortunate to be in the midst of the amazing Berkshires’ gardens which offer inspiration, not only for my own garden, but for our new Facebook page.

Upon arriving home from our trip, I found, tucked in my front door, a request to have my garden added to our town’s 2013 Pocket Garden Tour. Saying “No” would have been the smart thing to do. But why say “No” when “Yes” leaves you open to more gardening possibilities and exploration.

submitted by: Jen Munson, NorthEast Seacoast Unit

Herb Garden Magic

Our next-door neighbor Rebecca was 6 or 7 years old when she began her Saturday morning visits. She was pale and undersized; her parents said she was born with a heart condition. They never allowed Rebecca to play outside. She couldn’t ride the school bus or attend the birthday parties of her classmates.

But for some reason, Rebecca was allowed to walk across her yard and ring our doorbell, which she did frequently. She always asked the same question, “Would you show me your herb garden?”

So I’d dry my hands, hang up the phone, or drop whatever else I was doing and together we’d head out into the yard.

In May, we’d stop under the white wooden arbor to smell the climbing Cecile Brunner rose with its sweet and spicy scent.

herb garden entryway

Other weeks we’d stoop to pick a few sprigs from “Thyme Square,” comparing the colors and fragrances of caraway thyme, Doone Valley thyme, and lemon thyme.

thyme square

In mid-summer, the anise hyssop always put on a bee-buzzing, purple-hued show. The smell of which never failed to surprise and delight us.

And on a warm August day, what’s more thrilling than the scent of a roughly textured leaf of lemon verbena?

Late in the growing season, Rebecca and I would dead-head the green and purple basil, pinching off the flowers and in the process, stain our fingertips with the heavy smell.

After many weeks of these pleasant, but none-the-less interrupting interruptions, I impatiently answered the doorbell and asked Rebecca, “Why do you love herbs so much?”

She looked surprised and said, “Oh, I don’t care about the garden. I just like to watch you pick a leaf, put it to your nose, and shiver all over when you smell it.”

Our weekly horticulture class might have missed its intended target, but we shared a little herb garden magic.
submitted by Holly Cusumano, Philadelphia Unit