China Bayles' Book of Days (28 page)

—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 raw 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.

Learn about the tulip craze:

Tulipomania: The Story of the World’s Most Coveted Flower and the Extraordinary Passions It Aroused,
by Mike Dash

MAY 14

On this day in 1607, the first permanent British settlement in North America was established at Jamestown, Virginia.

In Virginia, there is a plant called the Jamestown weed, whereof some having eaten plentifully became fools for several days, one would blow up a feather in the air, another sit naked, like a monkey, grinning at the rest, or fondly kiss and paw his companions. . . .

—COTTON MATHER, 1720

Jimsonweed

The amusing story of the soldiers who ate the hallucinogenic herb Jamestown weed, or jimsonweed, is often told as an example of what not to do: Don’t eat plants you’re not familiar with. The unwise soldiers, who recovered after eleven days, were lucky, for they had feasted on
Datura stramonium
, a psychoactive member of the nightshade family. Jimsonweed and other related plants contain a narcotic that has been used in many cultures as a poison, a medicine (chiefly as a painkiller and wound healer), and as a ceremonial hallucinogenic: an aid to worship, or to obtaining prophetic dreams or messages. And yes, it can kill you, if you eat enough of it.

BRUGMANSIA

Knowing about the dangers of
Datura
, I was surprised to see a beautiful specimen of Brugmansia—called Angel’s Trumpet—in the nursery last year, without any warning of its toxicity. When I asked the clerk about it, she just smiled. “Nonsense,” she said. “It’s completely harmless.”

Not so! Like other nightshades, Brugmansia has its darker side. In pre-Conquest Colombia, slaves and wives of dead kings were given a toxic brew of Brugmansia, to sedate them so they wouldn’t make a fuss when they were buried alive with their masters and husbands. Nobody’s likely to eat it accidentally, since it doesn’t taste good. But do keep children (especially adolescents who might be inclined to experiment) away from the plant.

And one other word, while we’re on the subject. Many familiar plants are toxic, some of them fatally so. These include oleander, azalea, iris, larkspur, daffodil, crocus, lantana, caladium, dieffenbachia, lupine, castor bean, lily of the valley, poinsettia, bittersweet, boxwood, English ivy, and nicotiana. We don’t have to give these beauties up, but we do need to know what they are and how to handle them.

Read more about plants that have a darker side to their personality:

Murder, Magic, and Medicine
, by John Mann

MAY 15

American poet Emily Dickinson died on this day in 1886.

My plants look finely now. I am going to send you a little geranium leaf, which you must press for me. Have you made an herbarium yet? I hope you will if you have not, it would be such a treasure to you.

—EMILY DICKINSON, AGE 14, IN A LETTER TO ABIAH ROOT

Miss Dickinson’s Herbarium

When young Emily Dickinson was a student at Amherst Academy, she began creating an herbarium, a leather-bound collection of pressed plants and flowers. She compiled 66 pages, each page displaying 5 or more specimens. The pressed materials, identified by their botanical names in Emily’s small, precise lettering, are attached to the right-hand pages; the left-hand pages, which serve to protect the pressed plants, are blank. The plants, over 450 of them, are mounted on the page with paper bands, glued at each end, allowing the plant to be removed from the page. (Now, of course, the plants are too fragile for removal. Archivists at the Houghton Library of Harvard University, where the collection is held, have prepared photographs of each page for use by researchers; the originals are kept in a special temperature- and humidity-controlled area.)

Emily Dickinson’s love of flowers is evident in the more than 1,800 poems she wrote. Only ten were published in her lifetime; the others were not discovered until her sister found them, neatly organized, after Dickinson’s death. She is considered one of America’s finest poets.

TO MAKE YOUR OWN HERBARIUM

Collect the whole plant, including the roots, leaves, twigs, blossoms, and seeds. Clean. Spread on newspaper and press in layers, separated by blotting paper and/or pieces of cardboard. Change the blotting papers daily until the plants are dry (a week or more). Arrange the plants on acid-free pages. Mount them with paper strips or acid-free glue. Include the plant’s common and botanical names, the place and date of collection, and perhaps a record of your impressions and experiences of the plant. Keep your pages in a binder, or make special covers for them, bound with raffia or ribbon. Shelve in a dark place.

Read more about Emily Dickinson’s herbs and flowers:
The Gardens of Emily Dickinson
, by Judith Farr

I hide myself within my flower,
That wearing on your breast,
You, unsuspecting, wear me too—
And angels know the rest.
—EMILY DICKINSON

MAY 16

Boursin cheese—a mild, creamy cheese flavored with herbs—was originally created in 1957 by François Boursin in the Normandy region of France. Now, the term is used to describe many herb-flavored cheeses.

Herbs and Cheese

Cheese has been an important part of the human diet for at least 5,000 years, and its smooth texture and (usually!) unobtrusive taste make it a perfect companion for savory herbs. Boursin, an herbed cheese spread that originated in France, makes the best of the natural duo. You can buy it at the supermarket, or make your own taste-alike.

BOURSIN

1 cup farmer’s cheese
1 cup Asaigo or Parmesan cheese, grated
8 ounces cream cheese, softened (don’t use “lite” or low-fat)
1 stick butter, softened
1 teaspoon lemon juice
2 tablespoons minced chives
3 cloves garlic, finely minced
½ cup minced parsley
1 teaspoon fresh minced marjoram
1 teaspoon fresh minced thyme

In a large bowl, blend the cheeses. Blend in the butter and lemon juice. Add the other ingredients and mix well. Refrigerate to blend flavors. Makes about 30 ounces.

BOURSIN BASIL ROLLUPS

8 ounces Boursin, softened
4 8-inch flour tortillas
16 fresh basil leaves, washed and dried
4 ounces thin-shaved deli roast beef
4 teaspoons Dijon mustard

To make this easy appetizer, divide Boursin into fourths and spread one portion over each tortilla. Cover with fresh basil leaves, then layer with roast beef. Spread 1 teaspoon mustard over the meat. Roll up the tortillas tightly and wrap in plastic wrap. Chill 2-3 hours. To serve, cut in slices, straight across or diagonal. Arrange on a platter with fresh greens and herb sprigs.

If you will have a very dainty Nettle Cheese, which is the finest Summer Cheese which can be eaten . . . as soone as it is drained from the Brine, you shall lay it upon fresh Nettles, and cover it all over with the same, and let it ripen Therein. Observing to renew your Nettles once in two days, and every time you renew them, to turn the Cheese.

—GERVASE MARKHAM, THE ENGLISH HOUSEWIFE, 1615

MAY 17

The first Kentucky Derby was run on this day in 1875.

... the mounds of ices, and the bowls of mint-julep and sherry cobbler they make in these latitudes, are refreshments never to be thought of afterwards, in summer, by those who would preserve contented minds.

—CHARLES DICKENS, TRAVELING IN AMERICA IN 1842

Will the Real Mint Julep Please Stand Up?

The mint julep is more than the official Derby Day drink—it’s a page of history. Although mint may have been added for the first time in Maryland (or was it Virginia or Carolina?) in the 1700s, the “julep” is an ancient drink known to several cultures. The Persians called it
gulab
and made it with rose water. To the Portuguese, it was
julepe
. And in pharmaceutical Latin,
julapium
refers to any sweetened, aromatic mixture containing a medicated water or an essential oil.

Julep is French, but the mint julep is definitely American. The American South, that is. And if Southern humorist Irving S. Cobb is right, the mint julep may have been a
casus belli
of the War Between the States. It seems to have something to do with nutmeg. “Down our way we’ve always had a theory,” he said. “The war was brought on by some Yankee coming down South and putting nutmeg in a julep. So our folks just up and left the Union flat.”