Moxie Gardener

Thymus vulgaris (common thyme)

Thyme was the first fresh herb I ever held in my hands. A small bunch in a plastic bag was given to me decades ago by a friend of a friend who was a very enthusiastic gardener.

Even though I cannot recall her name, she is the one who inspired me to grow herbs. At the time, I was living in a townhouse with no yard and no garden. A year later, I moved into a duplex with an entire yard and began my foray into the wonderful world of growing herbs.

Thyme, basil and parsley were the first three herbs I grew. I started them from seed and I remember how amazed I was that the tiny seedlings were so aromatic. From the time they germinated, they gave off their heavenly odor when I rubbed them between my fingers. I’m afraid I lost a few in my over-enthusiasm to smell their lovely, fresh scent.

Thyme is one of the oldest cultivated herbs; the ancient Egyptians used it when embalming their mummies. Throughout recorded history, thyme is used as an antiseptic as well as for the treatment of chronic coughs. Its active ingredient, Thymol, is a major ingredient in both Listerine Mouthwash and Vicks Vapor Rub because of its antiseptic and soothing properties.

It’s known botanically as Thymus vulgaris. Interestingly enough, thyme is one of the few plants that has never been referred to by a “common” name in the English speaking world.

Thyme is a woody perennial that is reliably hardy to USDA Zone 5, although it has survived in my Zone 4 garden with adequate winter protection.

Start thyme seeds indoors about six weeks before frost free weather in your location. Plant outside when all danger of frost has passed.

Plant thyme in unimproved soil. It will grow much better and be more aromatic than if it is grown in the improved soil of a vegetable garden. Thyme grows about a foot high so it is perfect for the front of an herb garden.

Small pink flowers bloom in mid-summer at the ends of the branches. The best time to cut thyme to dry for culinary use is just before the flowers open. Cut in the morning when the essential aromatic oils are at their highest concentration.

Provide winter protection for thyme. If you live in areas with severe winters, mound some dirt around the base of the plant and cover with a layer of leaves or straw. Remove in early spring about the time your chives start to peek out of the ground. Established thyme can take a little cold weather; if setting out brand new seedlings, wait until all danger of frost has past.

Fresh thyme, along with parsley and bay leaf, make up the bouquet garni added to simmering pots of soups and stews. It complements the flavor of virtually any vegetable. A very tasty marinade for meats can be made using only fresh thyme sprigs, olive oil, and wine vinegar. It also makes a very flavorful herb vinegar.

Once you taste the flavor of home grown thyme—whether fresh or dried—you’ll be as hooked on it as I am.

Overwintered kale plant--white stuff is mold, not snow.

First full day of spring. Garden still frozen solid.

Took rake out and began raking the foot-high pile of leaves off of vegetable garden. Handle of rake broke. Grrrrr.

The kale plant I buried last fall still has some leaves that look alive. Unfortunately, the stem and surrounding ground is full of a healthy layer of white mold (see the picture at right and also this link to a post about it ).

There was a rather strong odor like old cabbage in the area where the kale plant is. I picked a couple of leaves. They were limp, but not “rotten.” I brought them in the house, just in case I got up the courage to cook them.

I finally put them out in the compost pile after I smelled them every time I went into the kitchen. Couldn’t imagine eating them when they smelled so sour.

I have to report that my experiment overwintering a kale plant was a failure. According to my research for this post on growing kale, kale are biennials and should survive the winter. Perhaps I should have uncovered it as soon as the weather warmed to above freezing during the day. I think I’ll try again next winter.

One of the things I love most about gardening is conducting experiments. Some fail, but occasionally I’ll have a huge success. Some of these successes can change the way I garden. Some defy conventional gardening wisdom. Some extend the range of plants I can grow. All are enlightening.

Look for more gardening experiments as the season progresses.

Potatoes might be the oldest domesticated crop.

Potatoes are one of the oldest of all cultivated crops. It is believed that the potato originated in Chile and has been cultivated for at least 10,000 years.

It took about three decades for the potato to spread throughout Europe after the Spanish brought it back from the New World. At that time it was cultivated primarily as a curiosity by amateur botanists. This was perhaps due to its relationship to poisonous plants. It wasn’t until two hundred years later that the potato gained wide acceptance as a food crop throughout Europe and North America.

Normally you plant pieces of a potato, each with one or two eyes. Throughout the growing season you weed, fertilize, water, and harvest when the tops die down.

Digging potatoes is a fall ritual in gardens everywhere. There is another method, though, one in which you don’t plant the seed potatoes in garden soil.

Have you ever heard of growing potatoes in a trash can?

I read about this method of growing potatoes many years ago. More recently it has been the subject of speculation in at least one gardening forum.

First you cut the bottom out of a new plastic trash can. Set it on the ground and add two to three inches of compost in the bottom. Lay your seed potatoes on the compost and cover with a three inch layer of straw.

As the potatoes grow, you cover their stems with more straw. Be sure to leave the top three sets of leaves uncovered so they continue to grow. When the plants reach the top of the trash can you stop adding straw; just water and fertilize as usual.

Because a large portion of the plant is buried under several feet of straw, many potatoes are formed along the buried stems.

Harvest is easy; you simply remove the trash can and the potatoes are easily reached from the sides of the resulting cylinder of decomposed straw. Because the potatoes are not grown in soil or dug with a shovel, they have fewer cuts and bruises.

A positive side effect of this method is that the straw in the trash can breaks down and turns into rich loam during the course of the growing season. If you have an area with poor to modest soil that you want to improve, grow a trash can or two of potatoes on it. After you remove the trash cans and harvest the potatoes, rake the residual soil smooth. Then turn it under to decompose completely and enrich your new garden bed.

I’ve often wondered if you could translate this to square foot gardening and use a five gallon bucket set in a single square foot. Because of their small size, they could probably be planted with only one or two seed potatoes.

Has anyone ever tried using five gallon buckets to grow potatoes in this way?

Love, love, love getting my hands dirty.

I did it again. I ran out and planted vegetable seeds in my flower garden because the ground was thawed. It wasn’t even completely thawed, just enough to dig up the top inch and put some seeds in it.

Last year I planted spinach there. I couldn’t find any spinach today when I went out to plant, so I planted a short row of mesclun. Then I added a row of Fire ‘n Ice radishes, then a row of mystery radishes (radish seeds still in the pod, harvested late last summer from my garden, but never processed, labeled or stored correctly).

Back in the house, I started digging out the seed packages that I’d tossed in a general “seed holding” area. Found the spinach. Back outside and planted spinach seeds in an old, cracked, twelve gallon crock.

My vegetable garden, on the other hand, is still completely frozen. It’s covered by at least a foot of leaves. The ground around the garden is still too wet to walk on. Ever see a grown woman cry in frustration because she can’t dig in the dirt?

By next weekend, the ground should be dry enough to walk upon. Then I’ll see exactly what has survived in my vegetable plot under the blanket of leaves. I know the kale did, I wrote about it here.

I confess I dug around a little and found some green onions whose leaves were green, not dead and brown. I’m also wondering if the seeds I planted last fall will germinate. I wrote a post about planting them that you can read here.

Finally, it’s finally time here in the perpetually frozen north to start seeds for tomatoes and peppers. I know the seeds are around here somewhere….

Will Spring Ever Arrive?