Pragmatism and Poetry

Sometimes I wax poetic and think that we must truly have the most beautiful garden on earth. A woodland retreat would not be everyone's cup of tea but, to my mind, we have it all (except a lake or ocean!)  - evergreens, a canopy of leafy trees, a property that is knee deep in ferns, native wildflowers like lady slipper and trillium, roses, hostas, green grass, foxgloves, lupins, lilacs, coneflowers, astilbe, brunnera, mondara, rhododendrons, holly, clematis, winding pathways, bird baths and feeders, and stone walls.

I am also a pragmatic gardener. We don't grow anything aside from herbs that is edible. No fruit, no vegetables, no berries. We have to share this habitat with wildlife. No sense in sending them mixed messages.

Luckily, the creatures of the forest don't seem to like herbs. So on the deck, each year when I plant up the containers, I combine flowers in various colors with a number of herbs. It is lovely to cook in the summer and pop outside the kitchen door to cut spearmint for Indian cooking, chives for salad, or rosemary and savory for roast chicken and turkey.