Goodbye and Good Night Skullcap

I'm deleting several spreaders from my flowerbeds, one at a time. We all know that bee balm (a member of the mint family) and phlox freely reproduce themselves in the flower bed. Over time, i've collected some less well-known spreaders. The first on my list is skullcap (Scutellaria)--another a member of the mint family.

In the past, i have liked to collect and grow herbs, but i never did anything with them. I just liked have Nature's medicine cabinet at the ready. But when it comes right down to it, i buy a ready-made tincture of valerian and skullcap and use 2 droppers-ful to put my body back to sleep at 2:00 a.m.

I am not going to be making my own tinctures, after all.

This is part of the general pruning off of activities and stuff that i've been doing for the past few years. Yesterday, it was good-bye skullcap.

Multi-use Herb Garden

Running over the chocolate mint.

Every November, my sweetie and i disagree about my herb garden. Since it's at the back door, he wants to back up the truck full of firewood right to the back door. "But it's a garden," i plead to no avail. In truth, it's a multi-use area. For 5 days in November, my herb garden is a driveway for our truck.

Can you see how i get myself into this feeling of ill-will?

1) i resist what is happening: a truck with firewood.
2) i believe the word "herb garden." In true truth, it's an ever-changing patch of dirt. As soon as i give it a label, i create a concept, which i can then believe. The world becomes dualistic--this? or that? If it's an herb garden, then it can't or shouldn't be a driveway. But, in fact, both are happening.

Our woodshed is filled to the brim with firewood for the winter. The chocolate mint, the onions, the thyme have survived.

The kale stays out of the way of those tires.

Poinsettia Re-Blooms

My 3-year-old poinsettia is beginning to bloom. It's scrawny. The "flowers" are small, but there's nothing like a dash of red on these dreary winter days to remind us of new life.

New life is growing underground. When i planted bulbs a couple of days ago, i pulled up the white roots of mint, which are creeping along, undetected, even in this cold weather.

Even on the dreariest of days, like today, mindfulness reminds us that we are alive! Let's be grateful for the simplest things--our 5 senses, our mind, a warm house, electricity, running water.

And i'm even grateful for this scrawny poinsettia.

Ripping Out the Mint

My non-gardening sweetie couldn't stand looking at the 4-foot tall mint patch that was falling over onto the kale, so he waded in and ripped out several armloads of mint. I carried it to the compost pile for him.

It's hard to watch stress overwhelming someone we care about. Perhaps we want to wade in and save them from their suffering. But, really, they have to pull the weeds out of their own (mental) garden. We can only offer our support in the process.

Stress is hard to live with, whether it's our own or the vicarious stress of someone we love.

Our path is our own path. No one else can walk it for us.

Let's take a mindful walk in the garden and reduce our own stress.

Chocolate Mint Re-appears!

A friend gave me chocolate mint several years ago. I planted it at the edge of my mint patch, but then i lost it, since chocolate mint only grows about 6 inches tall and the neighboring, more vigorous, apple mint is 4 feet tall.

Now, after last summer's construction project, with 2 trenches dug through my former herb garden, chocolate mint has reappeared! About 12 feet away from its original location.

One thing about mint: It's a survivor.

Our sweet meditation practice can easily get lost in the overwhelm of daily life. Meditation is so small, and life is so big.

Yet, when disturbances strike--the eustress of good things or the distress of troublesome things--meditation survives to sustain and nourish us.

Allow meditation to reappear in your life. Today.

Thirst-Quenching Iced Mint Tea

Every evening, after dinner, while my sweetie is doing the dishes, i walk out the back door to the mint patch. Last year's construction (and 2 trenches through the former herb garden) gave the mint free rein, so the mint patch is now about 8 feet long and 6 feet wide. W-a-y too big.

I pull up 5 or 6 stems of mint by the roots, clip off the roots, and bring the mint indoors to make iced mint tea for the next day. This year i've been adding hibiscus flowers and a touch of maple syrup for a truly thirst-quenching cool drink on hot afternoons.

When we pull up the roots of stress (greed, aversion, and delusion), our craving (literally, "thirst" in Sanskrit) will be quenched.

We could look at our inner mint patch and sigh in despair. Or we could put ourselves on a daily diet of meditation and mindfulness (and mint tea :). Little by little, the inner heat cools to a refreshing causeless joy.

Photos from parkswholesaleseed.com and republicoftea.com

Mint Spreads

Mint is still growing green in the herb garden. In the summer, i use it to make iced tea. Now that ice forms on the birdbath every morning, i cut mint for a cup of hot tea.

Mint is a spreader. It will take over, if left to its own devices. That's the reason i pull it up by its roots when i go out to harvest 3 or 4 sprigs for tea.

Our obligations and responsibilities, our anxieties and planning can spread over our day-to-day life. We cannot cram it all in.

We could pull each one up by the roots and look closely at it. Is it really worth our time, money, and frustration to read the newspaper? to stop and buy a cup of coffee? to race off to the supermarket for one or two items?

What--really--is most important to us?

I'm going to the mint patch now to pull 4 plants out by their roots, then sit down on the deck, have a cup of tea, and enjoy this beautiful sunny day.

Mint Meditation

With the uproar of construction this past summer, and the deconstruction of my herb garden, i got out of the habit of making mint iced tea every day.

My mint patch is supposed to be about 8 feet long and 2 feet wide, but mint oversteps its bounds when no one is looking. So i pull 4 or 5 mint stems out of the ground, cut off the root, smoosh the tall "sprigs" of mint into a big glass pitcher, and pour boiling water over them. My sweetie calls this "iced mint water."

The mint is still vigorous and green, and cold mint tea in the fridge offers variety to my attempt to drink 8 glasses of water each day.

In the uproar of your life, pull out your old meditation practice. You remember how to do it. It's sitting there with you right this moment, just waiting to refresh you.

Photo from tsflowers.com

The Proliferation of Mint

Mint seems like such a tasty herb to plant, but how many people have i warned? "Don't plant it!"

Mint is a spreader par excellence. When i started my herb garden, i wanted a mint of every type. But then i seldom used them. I actually prefer apple mint, which has a fuzzy leaf, to make iced tea with. Someone gave me chocolate mint, and that's a nice addition, but i think the apple mint has overrun it.

My method of keeping the mint patch under control is to make mint iced tea every day. On these hot days, i "pick" mint in the afternoon, which is to say i pull it up by as much root as i can and clip off the root. When i have a big handful of stems, i rinse them under the faucet and stuff them into a half-gallon glass pitcher. Add boiling water, and let it cool.

Put the pitcher into the refrigerator by evening, and the next day, you have cold mint tea all day long to cool you and refresh you.

This is how we work with our hindrances too. Sense desire, ill-will, sleepiness, anxiety, or doubt will proliferate and overrun our lives. We apply mindfulness every day. One by one, we pull back on desiring, expressing a zinger, collapsing, worrying, or doubting. We take a close look at the presenting circumstance, and in this way, we clip the root of that momentary hindrance.

We ourselves are refreshed and able to relax into the next moment. Maybe with a glass of cold mint tea in hand.

The Herb Garden

The herb garden has sprung back to life. I walk out the back door, and a pie chart of an herb garden stands at my feet.

Tonight i'm cooking spaghetti sauce. I cut 2-inch tall oregano, thyme, Egyptian onion tops, and garlic chives. So fresh that the bottled sauce revives itself into complicated flavors.

The apple mint is 2 inches tall. Well, that was yesterday. Maybe it's 3 inches tall today. It's sending out explorers to the nearby countries of Wormwood, Lovage, and Tansy. I ruthlessly pull those minty colonizers out by their roots in an effort to keep the exploding population within its own borders.

When i have a colander full of mint sprigs, i turn on the tea kettle. I stuff the rinsed mint leaves into a glass pitcher and fill to the brim with boiling water for a 2-day supply of iced tea. My honey calls it "iced mint water." By whatever name you call it, it's a cool drink for a warm day.

I love the herb garden, even though it is not showy. I've considered how i might age with my gardens. All the others may revert to woods or lawn or groundcover. The herb garden will be the last to go.