Summer’s here, and my garden volunteers are all hard at work. As always.
Last night’s supper was pasta primavera with herb pesto made with cilantro, fennel, and anise hyssop. The dinner table centerpiece was a bouquet of tall snapdragon spires. I did not plant any of these. Not this year, anyhow.
I must have at some time, though my memory’s inexact. I do not remember ever deliberately planting snapdragons, for example. Yet there they are, dozens of them decorating my raised beds—the classic example of a “volunteer” garden plant. These mystery guests show up in the ground and, because they are robust by nature, are often considered pests. “Rampant” and “promiscuous” are surly descriptions often applied.
But, to borrow an old axiom, to know them is to love them.
These herbs, foods, and flowers all come with built-in utility and stand ready to grace both kitchen and home.
They’re robust and prolific.
They require very little organized care and tending.
They thrive in underutilized nooks and crannies, nature’s version of the famous European “catch crops.” And they adapt over time to become even better residents of your particular soil, care, and climate.
All you have to do is welcome them using that old phrase, an attitude adjustment. Volunteers are friends, not foes.
Consider my resident cilantro population. I planted this famously fussy herb years ago—possibly using a variety called “Pokey Joe,” as I still have a half-empty packet of that in my seed box. It proved perfect for my garden. Somehow I failed to harvest one plant, which then flowered and set seeds and flung them about like confetti.
That was in July. A few weeks later, little green gift ribbons of tiny cilantro seedlings began to appear amid the beans I installed in that bed, and they set up shop between the rows. Beans and cilantro coexisted happily; I had a fine second cilantro crop in August and September, and I allowed a couple plants to flower and set seed. And I harvested a fine crop of dry red beans.
Then, a few weeks later, an entirely new gang of cilantro seedlings sprang up. I thought their prospects were poor—mid-October chill was at hand, and the first winter frost lay in the near distance. No worries! That fall’s seedlings survived our relatively mild Pacific Northwest winter, and next May, I had a fantastic early crop. I begged cilantro-loving neighbors to come harvest the cilantro forest, and had plenty for a half-dozen potato salads, my favorite use.
And for all this I did ... nothing.
Plants Adapt
Cilantro is supposedly a warm-weather crop, but mine has survived any winter that does not see a freeze below 25 degrees F. How did that happen? The cilantro self-selected to create a cold-hardy race for my garden—what horticulturists call a “land race.”Most Surprises Have a Reason
Last December, the temperature dropped to 8 degrees F one night here at my farm. Among many casualties were last fall’s October-born cilantro seedlings. Not to worry: Many of the seeds hadn’t germinated in October and instead did so in April. On seed packets, a germination rate of 50 percent seems ghastly—but not in the real world.Mild Chaos Is Beneficial
The rigidly ordered garden systems that humans seek are unnatural, and what nature wants is modest pandemonium. We gardeners can interfere lightly or oppressively. Yes, I plant corn in rows and thin it to stand 15 inches apart; otherwise, I get small cobs on feeble plants. It is, after all, a grass. But there is no call for every inch of every bed to be neurosurgically precise.
Innovation Is Nature’s Way
I started with two types of columbine, a semi-wild red variety and a light blue-purple garden type. They crossed, and I now have a gorgeous salmon-colored flower that you can’t find in any catalog. I also have a hybrid pink-purple phlox with exceptionally large blossoms, a very robust tomato crossing Sungold and Green Zebra—I think—and a vivid magenta snapdragon.Embrace the Mystery
Where did my snapdragons come from? No clue. But does it matter, really? Please think for a minute on whether the human obsession with imposing encyclopedic order on our world has led to any misunderstanding or trouble.
Horizons Expand
Store-bought cilantro is a small bundle of tiny leafy stems. But it turns out that when you let the plants bolt, the young flower stems are lovely, tender, sweet tidbits when chopped up. Two weeks later, the seeds are what Asian cooks call green coriander, and have the same intense aroma and flavor as the plant itself. The young, tender, light green seeds are marvelous additions to potato salad, vegetable soups, and pestos.Nothing Is Forever
For years, I had self-sowing sweet peas that materialized beneath my pole bean trellises; I let a few get established in the corners each fall and enjoyed masses of fragrant blooms in July. But this year they are gone, I presume done in by last winter’s hard freeze. Maybe I'll start again, maybe not.Truth is, I have a lot going on in the garden already. And yes, I do occasionally have to rein in these nomadic arrivals that are migrating all over. This fall, for instance, I'll grab a shovel and rescue my strawberries from the alstroemeria that are undermining them.
Then I'll pick a basket of cilantro and fennel, dig up a few potatoes, make a last-of-the-season salad, decorate it with nasturtium blossoms, and give thanks for a little horticultural havoc.
Owl Feather Farm Potato Salad
There’s no mayonnaise in this salad, one of the most popular summer dishes I serve. The fresh green herbs can be any combination of cilantro, anise hyssop, mint, fennel, lemon balm, and oregano. Why don’t I use dill? For reasons known only to the garden gods, I cannot grow it. But cilantro is a superb analogue. When I mix red, blue, and white potatoes, it’s our Fourth of July dish.Don’t throw out the juice left in the pan after steaming the potatoes—stored in the freezer for winter, it’s a superb vegetable stock for soups and stews.
- 3 pounds potatoes (red, blue, yellow, or white, or a combination)
- 1 pound lamb sausage
- 1/4 cup olive oil
- 2 tablespoons balsamic vinegar
- 1 tablespoon lemon or Key lime juice
- 2 cups green garden herbs, chopped fine
- Sea salt and cracked black pepper to taste
When the potatoes are soft, pour them into a large mixing bowl. Add the olive oil, balsamic vinegar, lemon or lime juice, salt, and pepper and stir. Then slice the sausage into thin pieces and add these, plus the pan juice. Stir. Add the chopped herbs and stir gently one final time.
Garnish with nasturtium or calendula flowers and serve with fresh-squeezed lemonade.
