If my head hurts, I go to the medicine cabinet. When dinner is bland, I look at the spice rack. Using deodorant and cologne helps make me socially acceptable. None of these actions require any knowledge of horticulture, but a few generations ago, none were possible without knowing how to grow, preserve and use plants, or at least having some servants to do it for you. But thanks to modern manufacturing, all I need to do now is visit a store, and home cures have largely gone the way of sword fighting, butter churning and hoop rolling…or have they?
Nevertheless, our little garden is a good showcase of herbs that a creative modern person might use as well as a few plants which are as obsolete as flatirons. Considering the former, a sprig of easily grown spearmint (Mentha spicata) in your iced tea is still refreshing, even if the tea comes from a store-bought powder. Sage (Salvia officinalis) and thyme (Thymus vulgaris) are similarly easy and simple to use, too, in meat dishes and breads. And many gardeners don’t consider it summer without basil (Ocimum basilicum), made into pesto or as part of that ultimate August cuisine, a homegrown tomato sandwich.
But we’ve got wormwood and marshmallow, too. Before appearing as a character in C.S. Lewis’s “The Screwtape Letters,” wormwood (Artemesia absinthium) was used to make absinthe, beer and vermouth, as an ingredient in various liniments, and for de-worming farm animals. A sprawling, three foot tall plant with gray-green foliage, its concentrated oils can be extremely poisonous. Given wormwood’s rather strong and not-unpleasant scent, it was used as a strewing herb in churches and other public places to make those without deodorant less socially unacceptable.
A paste made from the roots of marshmallow (Althaea officinalis) was used in cough syrups, since it soothed the throat, and also yielded the first, totally organic, marshmallows. Imagine the work those kids from yesteryear had to endure, digging, drying and processing a bunch of roots just to make s’mores!
The recognition that many “wild” plants as well as ornamentals once had widely known herbal properties is as obscure as homemade marshmallows. The pesky lawn plantain (Plantago major) soothed nettle stings and wounds, while shrubby, invasive barberry (Berberis vulgaris) cured jaundice.
Would I remain socially acceptable by trading my “Old Spice” for a mixture of lavender, peppermint, tarragon and anise?
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