Gold from Green Treasures

Have you ever weeded gently through a spring herb bed when it is assertively emerging into the warmth, finally escaping winter's snowladen cloak? The young herb shoots seem to spring to life around your fingers, rewarding your efforts with bursts of spritely green scents - the mints flinging their distinct pungent perfume like fireworks, never to be ignored.


Have you ever walked slowly along an herb garden, trailing your fingers, brushing softly over the greens and greys, lavenders and burgundies? The plants generously give forth their individual scents like a benediction to the soul.

My current herb bed is small, only about 5x7. Wild sisters have come to dwell among their seemingly domesticated family. Native wild catnip and flirty curly dock snuggle up to echinicea. Alfalfa, from the former hay field that the herb bed now nestles in, has re-emerged from it's deep, deep roots, bringing with it a wealth of minerals from the dark soil. The unruly mints and oregano have reluctantly given space to these gracious cousins of the green world.

As I browse through the early summer herb garden, I am amazed at the sybiotic relationships observed. These plants seem to know not only how to dwell together in relative peace, they each have properties that enhance their neighbor's qualities, back and forth.


Dainty thyme blossoms and garlic chives have welcomed a soft-leaved mullein. The composition will continue through the season when the purple chive blossoms are complemented by the pale yellow mullein flowers.

The walk I had indulged in for the morning didn't include my usual harvest basket and shears. One has to make do at times...
Pluckings of wild catnip, joyful chocolate, ginger and orange mints, some alfalfa tops, and a few sprigs of thyme...into the jar, covered with 2 cups of boiling water, left to steep on the counter until cooled then into the refrigerator overnight to continue the mingling and melding of flavors and nutrition.

While the soon-to-be-tea was still warm, I stirred in a teaspoon of amber local honey, to give a small sweet flavor note. Next year, the honey will be from our own hives. The bees love herb blossoms - the green world is dependent on these small ones who labor so diligently among the fields. Another element of symbiosis.

And now, with the thermometer hovering in the 80's, humidity in the 70's, this cold refreshing brew is sitting beside me as I write.

First I sniff - the aroma is heady with green notes, underlying earthy tones, sharp with mint, soft with sun.

The first sip lingers on my tongue, waking up tastebuds, bringing a heartfelt sigh of released tension from the depths of my body.

Ahhhhh.

Another sip. The coolness of the liquid enhanced by the cool notes of the mints.

I could drink the whole pint in one sitting, but I make myself only sip, slowly appreciating the gifts from the green world. I tend to make only a pint at a time of a new mix of herbs, making sure it has all the elements that refresh, no harshness or bitterness. Herbs can surprise you at times...

On the left, the amber local honey. On the right, the pint of chilled mint tea. In the middle - a golden treasure of taste, aroma, nutrition and love.

This one, I'll be making by the quart.

An observation: humankind should take a lesson from the herb garden.