herb garden - Natural soaps and skincare

Posted on March 29, 2019March 31, 2019 by Tiffany Burns — 8 Comments

Who is the cutest baby herb seedling in my herb garden?

Everyone loves an adorable baby, especially when that sweet little cutie is a baby herb seedling. Enjoy these pictures of all of the little babies growing in my kitchen window herb garden.

Keep reading, I’ll reveal my choice for cutest of the cute.

Genovese Basil

Basil babies have a soft, round look to them, like chubby little cheeks.

Oregano

A tiny little choir of oregano seedlings grew from itty-bitty black seeds.

Spinach

Nature is so funny. Would you believe these lanky green shoots turn into oval spinach leaves? Check out the little curly ends, awww.

Catnip

My catnip took so long to sprout, it’s still just emerging from its sleep. One miniature sproutling is just popping through.

Tomatillo

They’re not just any ordinary tomatillo. These baby herb seedlings are going to grow into purple tomatillos!

Parsley

Something about the leaves on a crowd of baby parsley reminds me of a flock of birds. Or at least, the way I draw them as V’s.

Bay leaves

Wee baby bay leaves…it should be a nursery rhyme. I love plants that start as tight buds. One day, they burst into an explosion of little leaves. I cheated a little with this one. It’s not a baby herb seedling, just baby leaf buds.

Ground cherries

You all know I’m partial to ground cherries. I created a salsa recipe featuring ground cherries instead of tomatoes, so unexpected. If I didn’t harvest these seeds myself from some ground cherries I picked up at this farm stand, I would not recognize this bowtie-shaped baby herb seedling.

Cilantro

So easily confused with baby parsley, cilantro leaves are more full and less spikey on the ends. They look like tiny little fans as they begin to form. Cilantro babies sprout in pairs; in other words, they’re twins!

Nasturtium

I confess. I have a favorite baby. It’s a nasturtium seedling. Every time I find one coming up in the garden, it makes me smile. Every. Time. Baby nasturtium leaves look like a little duck landed head first in the dirt with her feet up in the air. Too cute.

Newborn kale is pretty cute, too, but we’ll have to wait until I can do a feature on herb babies of the outdoor garden in May!

How about you? Do you have a favorite baby herb seedling? Leave a message in the comments.

Posted on August 29, 2018November 23, 2018 by Tiffany Burns — 7 Comments

Worst gardening mistake I ever made

Don’t read this post. It will ruin the whole illusion for you. Right now, as far as you know, my garden grows weed-less. My flowers are always crowned with a glistening morning dew. My local farm stands always have lush offerings, and my hair always holds a perfect curl.

Why are you still reading?

Ok, fine.

I brought it on myself, really. It’s not like I don’t know what happens when seeds fall into soil and water lands on them.

Last year, I had a beautiful chive plant. It grew nearly 4′ tall and blossomed snow-white flowers. Those flowers were the trendiest new bar in town for my neighbor’s honey bees. We were all so happy. Me, with my beautiful flowering chive, and the bees with the nectar.

In fact, those flowers were so pretty, I let them stay in bloom in September.

And since there were a few late bloomers, I didn’t cut them down as they went to seed in October. Oh wow, did that chive plant know how to make seeds.

We were in the middle of a major renovation of the first floor of our farm house, which is probably why I got lazy. I never did go back and clear out that dry, seedy chive plant.

And those seeds went everywhere.

Boom. Seedling explosion.

The following Spring, roughly 10,000 baby chive plants sprung up all around my garden. It was intense. A 4′ diameter around the momma chive blanketed with her hairy little babies.

Tough little suckers, too. I could pull and tug. Those seedlings just snap in half and grow a stronger, chunkier root ball.

I spent some time digging around the garden bed with my bare hands to pull up the chives. Maybe, I got 8,000 of them. Mostly I just gave up and planted some hearty green bean seeds in the bed with the chives. Figured some sturdy, little green beans would be capable of bursting through the chive forest. And they more or less did.

I’d like to say that if I could go back in time I would cut down those pretty white flowers before they caused me trouble. But, I probably wouldn’t. Circumstances being what they were. My family knee deep in construction debris, and me spending my evenings shimmying between towers of moving boxes to microwave frozen burritos.

Update! How I fixed it

After following a cycle of sprout-pull-resprout for a summer season with those chive seedlings, I was able to clean out the chive bed. In the early Autumn, I went in and dug through that bed with my bare hands. First, I pulled everything out that wasn’t a chive. Then, I went inch-by-inch through the garden soil, driving my hands below the surface, feeling for chive roots and lifting them out completely.

An half-hour later, there was a pile of little white chive root balls and green shoots in our compost bin. My back ached for two days, but I got a great leg and shoulder workout. I suspect there will be a few more chives to pull out next season. I’ll be ready. Of course, that would mean that letting one plant go to seed one time cost me two seasons of work to undo.

Oh well, only time will tell if the chive baby bomb retains its place as the worst mistake I ever made in the garden. But for now, champion crowned.

Posted on August 27, 2018October 7, 2018 by Tiffany Burns — 2 Comments

Forgotten herb: Nasturtiums

Close-enough pronunciation: “Nah-stir-shums”

Spicy little things and tough too.

I wouldn’t be surprised if you have heard of this one. It probably puts you in the 1% of Americans who have, but it’s not completely erased from memory.

And now, some actual statistics. According to Google Trends (as of September 2018), you are most likely to have searched for nasturtiums if you live in…Alaska! Fascinating.

Nasturtiums are most popular in Alaska and Maine according to Google Trends — Nasturtiums receive the most searches in Alaska (source: trends.google.com September 2018)

It does require a little patience to grow nasturtiums. I don’t often see them at nurseries. They don’t transplant well, but it will save you time and money to grow nasturtiums yourself from seeds. I buy one cheap packet of seeds every Spring and place them all over my yard.

As long as you are patient with the little sprouts, nasturtiums grow well from seed, which might mean getting your hands dirty. But, if you are willing to plant them yourself, you will save a bundle over buying seedlings. You do need some patience. The seedlings are straggly for a little while.

When they finally mature and start to bloom, the flowers are abundant. The colors are absolutely bright and brilliant. Keep scrolling for a stunning display of the wide variety of nasturtium colors you can find online.

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You can eat the flowers and the leaves. The flavor is spicy. They make beautiful butters and add a peppery bite to salads. The leaves and flowers can be brewed into tea. Peppery tea. I think I’d have fun mixing fresh nasturtium tea with complementary flavors, like lemon, orange and lavender.

One of the best characteristics is the sturdiness of the flowers. These blooms might look like tissue paper, but they are surprisingly long-lasting in an arrangement.

For the perfect impression and an affordable alternative to orchids, pick a bowl full of nasturtiums and place one bloom on each plate just before your guests arrive for brunch. You can use the leaves as garnish for hors d’oeuvres and platters.

My grandmother, Peg (born 1929), loved nasturtiums. Her sons could identify the plants on sight. Proof positive that we only started to forget this herb recently.

I was on vacation when she passed away in 2016. In my grief and the confusion to pack up and get home asap, I forgot to send flowers to the funeral home. I had a wonderful grandmother who adored her flower gardens, and I…forgot…to…send…flowers…to…her…funeral. Ouch.

It’s not that there weren’t any flowers there. My parents and relatives ordered beautiful, big arrangements with sashes on them: Mother, Grandmother, Aunt, Sister. But, when I arrived at the wake and realized there was nothing from me to her, I felt hollow.

The afternoon before her funeral, I was wandering through the garden in search of some peace and calm. It was mid-August. My nasturtium vines were covered in blooms. What a saving grace.

I picked about 20 flowers and honored Gram’s Irish heritage with a beautifully-simple, hand-gathered arrangement: one big lime-green hydrangea circled by orange and white nasturtium flowers.

Thanks to offcenterfarm.com for letting me take photos of her beautiful variegated nasturtiums for this article.