The Theoretical Garden

Wednesday, 19 October 2011

I was talking back in May about how big my garden would need to be if I grew my own ingredients from every plant or tree that I ingest in handy form from the shops.  There are a few more that need to be added to my list at the moment.  Those who have read here for a long time (all three of you) know that I'm on an ongoing quest for better health, and for ultimate recovery from chronic fatigue syndrome.  It's an ongoing quest because, quite frankly, parts of my body are not in particularly good, well-functioning order after a long-term illness and antibiotic regimens.  Those parts of the body are also the ones that are not generally spoken about in polite society.  (I find in my online readings of forums that women, so often, seem to have to go on with the requisite "Eww" and "That's gross" and such comments so that everybody knows that even though they're talking about such gross stuff like their own bodies, they're still feminine and all, you know?  But honestly, there's so much of that stupid squirmy my-body-is-gross stuff that goes on that you would think that they had Barbie mounds and their shit didn't even happen, let alone stink ... but anyway, I digress :)

Hmmm.  Anyway, so even though I diverged there, I do most heartily concur that trees and shrubs and living things are far prettier than me talking about my bowels.  Even though it's fascinating (did you know, for instance, that the gut has receptors in it that are connected to your brain?  A second brain, as it were.  Hence trusting those gut feelings because they balance out the brain in your head with a different kind of wisdom.  A body brain.  And also, my father's comment to people he disliked on the  TV and to us kids that "You've got shit for brains" ... well, Dad, you're not so far off in some respects).

Anyway, my digression digressed.  As I was saying, as my bowels are not of interest to you, instead of talking about them I will add a few more plants to my theoretical garden (which looks far more organised than the real garden, which does not have any of the herbs or vegetables we had planned to plant into it by this stage but instead is growing a lovely pile of daisied weeds at this point in time).

The first new tree to the theoretical garden is the black walnut tree, or juglans nigra.  It's a gorgeous-looking thing, and I could sit under it in my garden and read.  My partner with his magic hands could fashion it into woodish things, as according to this site it is "unquestionably the finest wood in the world."  But what I'm after in my apothecary is the nut, the black walnut, picked green and hulled.  This little baby goes into a nice little concoction with the two items listed below to kill parasites, the latest of my health quests.
Creative Commons pic by Jean-Pol Grandmont
I would need to be careful about where I planted this next shrub in my garden because it can inhibit the growth of other plants grown near it.  Artemisia absinthium, or wormwood, is the bitter herb that goes into absinthe and drives you into beautiful before it drives you mad, according to folklore (although this Wikipedia entry argues that it is no more harmful than other spirits).  The pretty silver-green leaves will be pressed for their oil, to go into the tincture form.

Creative Commons pic by Matt Lavin

Can you guess what spice these flowers are?

Creative Commons pic by Dainee.
They're more easily recognisable in their dried form as cloves (syzygium aromaticum to you, Jack).  Apart from being the most wonderful-smelling air freshener when you boil five or so on the stove with a cinnamon stick, cloves go well in apple pies and, less appetisingly, here in my tincture, where they kill parasitical eggs.  Those tiny little sticklike buds come from a tree that can grow from 8-12 metres tall.

Creative Commons pic by Adrien2008


  1. You, my dear, are hilarious! Someone needs to pay you to write like that!

    I do hope you get your dream garden some day.

  2. I agree with the remarks of the previous speaker. You made me laugh at 6 am - a great breakfast supplement:)

  3. susie susie, what a doozy
    how does your garden grow
    a fertile mind, a bit of time
    and parasites all in a row


  4. Thank you Kel, your comment's swell

    A comment in a rhyme
    I rather think I'm tickled pink
    By your creative mind :)

  5. Well, what more can I ask for, knowing I am giving one Briton such a miraculous start to the day (well, miraculous in my book.  Laughing at 6 am is rather an accomplishment :)

  6. Oh, Erin.  I would pass on the dream garden as long as someone would one day pay me to write like that!!!!!!!!!!


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