Author: strawhouseherbs

The Healing Power of Water

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Healing of self

China tea, the scent of hyacinths, wood fires and bowls of violets – this is my mental picture of an agreeable February afternoon. –Constance Spry.

 What does it mean to heal thy self?  I think you must first know yourself. Not in the strengths and weaknesses way of a professional evaluation but to know in a more intimate way. Others often perceive us differently than we perceive ourselves. It is surprising to me that many folks take that to mean they were wrong about themselves. Like most things, there are many sides of a person. When we aren’t “right” and feel the need to heal, I believe it is our own perspective of ourselves that is most important.  Feeling comfortable in one’s own skin- is an expression that has always resonated with me. I believe the self-knowing is more aptly described as a feeling. We don’t know ourselves in terms of adjectives but rather by how comfortable we are with ourselves and how our life is going. When we feel out of sorts is when we need to pay attention, soothe, and rock ourselves. The best advice I ever heard was to “be a mother to yourself.” Right away, that makes me less hard on myself and more supportive and understanding. Sometimes, actually or symbolically, rocking yourself is a great comfort. 

Healing takes time. In our world, where there seems to be a pill for everything, we don’t want to hear that. Take some time and devote it to yourself. Make it a regular, even scheduled event. This could take many forms. Practice yoga, take a cooking class, make time for a daily walk, meditate, bathe rather than shower. This last suggestion may seem strange, but I will tell you the story of when I realized the significance. We had been building our own house and contrary to the advice of many, we were living there while it was being built. At the time, my children were 10 years, 8 years and 6 months.  My husband worked full time and I worked 3 nights a week after he got home. Needless to say, progress was slow. Strangely, our living conditions didn’t dampen my enthusiasm for entertaining. We were having a summer solstice party for a few dozen friends. The pre-party stress was high as we scrambled to finish cleaning and cooking. If we had the normal American set up, we would have jumped in the shower and came out just as stressed as we went in. Well, we didn’t have the normal set up, not even close. We didn’t have running water much less a shower or a bathtub. So, we gathered soap and towels and headed to the pond! This was where we bathed, at least in the summer. So, I basically went skinny-dipping with my husband in a sweet little pond with frogs and cattails on a warm summer evening. We swam and dove, soaped up and rinsed off. By the time we were done, we were relaxed and happy in a way unimaginable in the ‘usual American set up.’ My husband had forgotten to bring clean clothes, so we walked back up the hill to the house with him dressed in a towel to guests already arriving. In our relaxed state, we were able to laugh about our unorthodox arrival. Moral of the story: time heals. Slow down and find ways to soothe yourself. When relaxed you are better able to solve or simply deal with the problems in your life.

Ways to soothe yourself

If you don’t have a pond to bathe in (haha), create a sanctuary in your own tub or even shower. Scent is a powerful tool in healing. Simply buying essential oils (not synthetic perfume oils) and putting drops in the bath or shower can be a wonderful start. I like to include the plant material, too, although it does complicate cleanup, which may undo the benefits for some folks. You can compromise and just add a bouquet of beautiful and aromatic flowers to the bathroom. You will notice that over time, repeatedly using the same scent in a relaxing situation will then empower the scent alone to relax you anytime you use it. 

Collect a few evergreen boughs, pine, spruce, cedar or whatever you have. Tie them with some nice string. I love string. I have all kinds of hemp string for practical and decorative uses. Bruise the needles a bit. Going over them with a rolling pin is a good method. Then hang them by the string over the bath spout and let the hot water run over the needles, scenting the room and the bathwater. Enjoy!

“The bath,” just saying it is relaxing to me. Many say they haven’t time for a bath and continue to “jump in the shower” as part of their morning rush. In Japan, the custom is to wash first outside the tub, sitting on a small wooden stool. The floors in the bathroom have a drain allowing you to scoop warm water from the bath and pour it over you to rinse. The scoops traditionally are like short open barrels with a long handle. Once clean, you step into the tub or o-furo. Japanese tubs are very deep allowing you to soak up to your shoulders. But the best thing about Japanese baths is that the water is constantly cycling through a heat exchanger, so it never gets cold. The deep bone relaxation is wonderful. It is traditional to bathe before bed in Japan. It is hard to imagine trouble falling asleep after such a ritual.

 In the Philippines, another country where I have lived, they have a different custom, one borne of necessity. The Philippines is a poor country and bathtubs are reserved for the very rich. The average person does a “dip and pour.” Filipino people are very clean. They bathe every day and wash their clothes even if they only own what is on their backs. Bathing is sometimes communal around a spring or pond. Woman and men are remarkably discrete and manage a complete bath around their garments, laughing and socializing. I was lucky enough to have a place indoors to bathe. I lived in a grass house made by my neighbors. A rain barrel caught run-off from the roof and had a spigot through the wall into my bathroom. I would fill a bucket then dip and pour as the Filipinos did. The bucket and scoop were both recycled plastic containers. Filipinos waste nothing. The walls were not all the way to the ceiling allowing me to enjoy the sights and sounds of the coconut grove. The one drawback being the day a tree frog landed on my wet backside with a slap. I’m not sure who was more scared, him or me. He jumped off me to the wall. I stared at his lime green skin and orange eyes for only a second before he escaped to more familiar perches.

Making an outdoor shower for use in the summer can be a great way to relax and enjoy your natural surroundings while you shower. Covering the walls with flowering vines can add privacy and beauty. A Filipino “dip and pour” in the garden would take no more set up than a bucket of warm water, soap and a towel! Grow some aromatic herbs like mint, thyme, and lemon balm in a secluded corner for this purpose. You will water the garden as you shower and treading on or brushing against the herbs will release their scent! It’s on my list this year to finally make just such an outdoor shower. I feel relaxed just thinking about it!

Summer Kitchen

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“Sorry, Mom!”

My mother used to say, “the garden looks beautiful, Honey. But you could spend some more time in the kitchen…”

Sorry, Mom. The garden is my priority. It’s literally the first thing I think about in the morning and the last thing I think about before I sleep. But the kitchen is an essential component. The counters, shelves, and floor overflow with the supplies needed to harvest and process my bounty. Bushel baskets some empty, some full of the day’s haul, are stacked on the floor. Huge bags of salt and sugar for drying herbs and brining vegetables, and making fruit cordials, jams, and jellies, vie for space with the gallon jugs of vinegar for herb vinegars and bread and butter pickles. I often get sidewise glances for the handles of vodka I have on hand for herbal tinctures and elixirs. The rafters are chock full of baskets of all shapes and sizes that I use for gathering and drying. Two compost buckets overflow with vegetable trimmings that the chickens will enjoy. And the shelves groan with mason jars, jar lids and rims, freezer bags, parchment paper, bottle caps, dehydrator, canning pots and racks, labels…..you get the picture. A working kitchen. There will be time to nest in the fall.

Legacy

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A life’s work is like drawing in sand. 

I garden, I plan.

The beauty I create has a shelf life, an expiration date.

It is the kind that must be enjoyed in the moment. The birds who fly, perch, and choose a mate, understand this. I take my cue from them.

The scent of lilac fills the air, the roses will be next. But scent can’t be saved like we put up berries in jams and jellies. 

I place markers with the names of flowers, herbs, and vegetables I have grown from seed next to the plants as I set them in the garden. Like the sun invariably bleaches the names from the markers, the names fade in my memory as well. 

My daughter’s boyfriend bragged the other day that, “Josie knows the names of all the flowers.”

This is my legacy.

I’m not Tired, You’re Tired

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The exhilaration of the season gets us up in the morning. 

Early. 

It gets us going even, or perhaps, especially in the rain.

The tastes of our plants, their likes and dislikes, override our own. 

I plant seeds in the hot greenhouse knowing how much they enjoy the heat, 

I wipe sweat from my eyes with a dirty hand.

I transplant tender new friends during periods of gentle rain knowing how it will ease their transition. 

Mud caked clothes pile up on the bathroom floor. 

I make brews of comfrey tea to nourish my young plants.

I don’t think about lunch for us until well past three. 

The bright sunshine grows sturdy strong stems,

my own joints and muscles cry out for attention.

Ahh, but the rewards are great.

I’m not tired, you’re tired.

Winterberry

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The holidays are over, time slows again. The view from the window looks like an old black & white snapshot. It’s no wonder we decorate in reds for the holidays. I’m no exception. At Thanksgiving the white linen curtains come down and the red toile ones go up. Red oriental rugs, red velvet pillows, red tartan throws, and stout red candles warm as much as the fire in the stove.

I finally took out the tree and evergreen boughs that filled vases and adorned the rafters. All their wayward needles vacuumed up. But the winterberry slowed me down.

The true red of those berries stopped my cleaning. Instead I started to research propagating winterberry from seed. I had gotten these stems from a generous friend who harvests a ton every December to sell bundles in my shop. Donating the proceeds to charity. I wasn’t ready to let go. I pulled all the seeds from the dried stems and put them in a bowl. It was only about a quarter cupful but it was so red! I found myself playing with the seeds running them through my fingers wondering if I could string them like beads. They had dried hard and weren’t going to be strung this year. Maybe next year I’ll catch them at a better time. My research said you had to soak the berry to release the seed inside. So into a dish of water they go. Are they too dry already? How does it work in nature. Do they soften in the wet snows of winter and drop to ground? Anyway I’ll enjoy the red as long as I can. Then I’ll cold stratify the seeds in the fridge until spring. Whether it works or not, I’ve extended my time and pleasure with this red friend.

The Beginning or the End

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Circles entice me and confound me. I’m drawn to their curves, their unbroken ring, their ability to contain things. I like being encircled by love. I love wreathes on the door, and a house whose rooms flow one into the other in a circle. I use circle geometry in my gardens, curved paths, circular beds, and rounded archways. I like the sense of continuance. Yet, I am always searching for the beginning or the end.

The seasons are this way for me too. I love the confidence I have that spring will indeed follow winter and summer after that. I love to mark the year by the equinoxes and solstices and the cross-quarter days of old pagan calendars. The flow of years before my existence, now, and long after I’m gone is a comfort to me.  I love each season equally. I love summer for its exuberance and abundance, fall for pumpkins, warm soups, and wood fires. I love winter for its hush, its reprieve from the busyness of summer and fall. And I love spring for its delicate colors and return of the light. 

As a child, I egotistically thought the year should start in May as that was when I was born. As logical a beginning as any other. As I got older, my confidence faltered and I felt the beginning of the year was akin to the conundrum of which came first, the chicken or the egg? I still lean toward spring as a beginning as I see through a gardener’s eyes. We plant seeds, they grow, life begins. But without death there is no life. The breakdown of living matter by microorganisms is a death that begets life on which new plants and animals rely.  

So why this need to organize? To mark the beginning and the end? I feel it is a human weakness to have to bundle bits of life into organized groupings, hours into days, and months into years to mark the passage of time. To mark our beginning and our end.

Fall Chores

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The cooler air energizes. The late summer haze has cleared. Suddenly the long list of garden chores has completely changed from building to undoing. I unravel what I have worked since early spring to build. I should be sad but it’s oddly satisfying. The smells have changed to the sweet scent of decay. I wear long sleeves now. The weather report predicts dropping temps overnight. Somethings will succumb, some can handle a bit of frost, then there’s the third group, the ones I can save. Today it’s those I concentrate on. I dig up the rosemary I planted in spring. I pull in the Christmas cactus and clivia that have spent the summer outside. I repot them with fresh soil and water them well. I find my collection of chipped floral plates I use to put the terracotta pots on. Slowly the window sills fill up with greenery.

I get the wheelbarrow and roll back into the garden. I pick all the pumpkins and winter squash. I pause wishing I had a camera to capture the full load in yellow, orange, green, and even blue. These go onto the window sill too tucked in around the plants, on the coffee table, and in a basket on the kitchen counter.

Out again, this time armed with my pruners and basket. I wind my way around the garden harvesting tender herbs, a patch of dill here, a some basil there, and some mint and sage too. I sit in a sunny spot, no longer needing the shade for comfort and tie the herbs into bundles. Back in the house, I hang the bunches in the rafters on nails put there for this purpose. The atmosphere has changed. The scent of herbs fills the room. The colors add warmth.

I take one more trip out to the garden carrying the old metal colander I use to collect vegetables. The sun has already begun its decline. I pick the last tomatoes from the vine where most of the leaves have gone brown. I start filling the colander. I add what’s left of the green peppers some even tinged red, rare in my northern garden. I top it off with some onions drying in the shed. With the bounty balancing on my hip, I head back to the kitchen to make soup for dinner.

~Kat, September 21,2023

Kat’s Favs 2022

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Lately I’ve been seeing collections of favorite seeds by garden YouTubers, bloggers, and writers. Well, those who know me, know that I am made up almost entirely of opinions; so, creating my own list seemed inevitable. I have been gardening for about 40 years now and have tried and true favorites I order year after year. So here goes, in no special order, “Kat Favs.”

Mokum carrot is the first to come to mind. This carrot is early, crisp and full of carroty flavor not just sweetness. In my short zone 4b/5a garden, I get a harvest from both early spring and summer sowings. My other carrot fav is the heirloom Red-cored Chantenay. Chantenay types have a tapered root and fat top giving it an attractive old-fashioned stout conical shape. They aren’t just pretty to look at though, they are my go to for winter stews. Their carrot flavor stands up to the richest gravy. These keep all winter in the ground with just a layer of straw cover. On mild winter days my husband picks enough to fill our refrigerator crisper drawer. We are able to do this 4-5 times and have fresh carrots last all winter.

My must haves for pickling are Calypso cucumber, Rosa di Milano red onion, and Chioggia beets. With these the winter is brightened by adding pickled beets to salads and bread and butter pickles to sandwiches or buttered Irish soda bread. I must also mention 3 Root Grex, a blend of beets of extraordinary colors- yellow, orange, pink, and ruby. I like to pick these early; they steam/boil quickly when fresh picked, then peel (leaving some stem), and toss with butter. I have never met anyone who wasn’t a beet convert after trying these!

A similar colorful beauty I also grow is Easter Egg radish. With one packet you get white, pink, red and purple radishes just a month after sowing. Great for a children’s garden. Zucchini is another child pleaser with the amazing, seemingly overnight growth of its fruits. Please your taste buds too with Zypher, a yellow and green color-blocked zucchini that has a delicious nutty flavor. As I write this I’m beginning to see a trend…I like color. But after all, as color translates into vitamins, it’s not a bad yardstick. I’ll add a new colorful favorite Dazzling Blue kale. Pretty enough for the flower boarder, this sport of Lacinato (Dinosaur) kale has the added benefit of being much hardier than its delicious Italian cousin. I picked fresh from the garden until Thanksgiving.

Maxibel French green bean or fillet bean has been a favorite for years. I keep on trying other varieties but come back to Maxibel. Thanksgiving wouldn’t be the same without a big steaming bowl of these! Waltham Butternut squash is also a Thanksgiving must have along with mashed Carola potatoes.

I have lots a favs in the lettuce category especially Tom Thumb, Rex, Jericho, and Rouge D’Hiver. Other greens I wouldn’t want to be without are Deadon Savoy and Ruby Perfection cabbage, Ruby Red and Bright Lights chard, Wasabi arugula, and my beloved Tyee spinach that sadly is no longer available. I’m still looking for a replacement that equals it!

I’ll finish with everyone’s favorite veg to grow…tomato. My favorites in the tomato category are: Aunt Ruby’s German Green, unparalleled for old fashioned tomato taste. I’m drooling just think about them! I also love Sungold , early and tasting as sweet as a melon. Constoluto di Genovese, Principe Borghese, are gorgeous Italian heirlooms. And for paste, I love Specked Roman.

I hope you try some of my favorites and please share your favorites (especially spinach) in the comments!

Argeratum-Where it all Started

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When I was five my parents took me to New York City for the flower show. I remember only two things from that trip, a redwood brought in for one of the landscape displays and my very first flower purchase. That redwood was awe inspiring but what little girl could resist the pull of a tiny flower that looks like a purple teddy bear? The argeratum, a low growing annual with tiny, fuzzy purple flowers, no longer fits my grown up tastes but thinking of them always makes me smile. However, some of my other early favorites have a secure place in my garden. The first of these old friends is not only purple but smells like grape candy. In fact, I’ve been inspired to write this post because they are in bloom now, the grape hyacinth. I can’t resist lying down on my belly and breathing them in!

Another grape-scented beauty I still love is a deep purple bearded iris. The unusual shape, again the fuzzy patch, the beard, on the falls was exciting to me. But that sweet grape scent was its greatest draw. These old-fashioned bearded irises are hard to find. Anyone who has one of these in their garden….I’d love to discuss a trade!

Others whose scent intoxicated my young brain were the lilac and lily of the valley. These both bloomed on my birthday. Since I have moved farther north I have to wait a month longer to enjoy them. The sense of smell plays an important role in the physiological effects of mood. Scents take a direct route to the amygdala and the hippocampus, the regions of the brain related to emotion and memory. No wonder these fragrant beauties have cemented themselves in my mind.