Did the herbs come before magic, for me? The magic before the herbs? In my recollection, they are inextricably linked: the first herbs, the first altar, the beginnings of my collection of folklore. They came, I suspect, from the same source: my thirst to understand and surround myself with secrets from an early age, to find a tangible connection to the mysteries I perceived moving in the universe and to learn to work with the small things that wrought large changes. The carrots and peas I grew did not have the same immediate appeal. They were too guileless, too straightforward in their nature and limited in their use. As a child I yearned, perhaps by instinct, to feed less the stomach but more the delicate senses. (As an adult, the simple nourishment of the body has new appeal, but that is a story I tell often.)
To look at the pagan community, it is obvious that I am not alone in my fascination with these useful plants. Is it the mythology of the outcast witch wise-woman with her garden and forest full of herbs that she alone knows the uses of that draws us? Is it the presence of so many obscure plant names in the magical lore, and in the descriptions of seasonal celebrations? Pagans and herb gardens have strong associations in the mythology of our community. There is a sense that herb lore is something that we ought to know. Many pagan books and Web pages have been filled with magical associations for various plants. And yet, while herbs are among the easiest plants to grow, many people who would like to have their own gardens have shied away from starting them.
Some have not had time, or space. Others have had disappointing experiences to undermine their confidence: a Mother's Day pot of rosemary that withered and died when planted outside, basil starts planted too early that expired when the temperature dipped into the forties or seeds planted in the ground that were never heard from again. I wonder, sometimes, how many people decide whether or not they can garden based mostly on whether or not their first attempts were with plants well-suited to their environment.
I am not a particularly good gardener. I try to change this, but every year it seems I either am late getting my plants in, or abandon them from some stretch of time in late July, or fail to take appropriate measures to control slugs. I know people who spend every weekend tilling the soil, consistently have ripe tomatoes early in August and see to their vegetable plot each morning before their first cup of coffee. I am not one of them. But I am persistent, and struggle on year after year, and have, if sometimes it seems almost by accident, chalked up a number of successes to balance out my many failures.
In the 20 or so years since I bought my first herb starts at the Arboretum plant sale, I've learned which plants need constant attention, and which can be left to themselves. I've also learned that the plants right next to the front door, which I see every day, will be watered more consistently than the ones in the lower yard that are so much easier to ignore. And I've discovered a number of plants that seem to thrive despite my shoddy treatment of them. These are not always the plants I would like to have as showpieces, but I try to put them in prominent places, where they will make me look good. Gardening, a garden being a place negotiated between human will and the hand of nature, is always an art of compromise.
Many people of my acquaintance have informed me that they have black thumbs, and that plants in their care invariably expire. I am not always inclined to argue -- within certain bounds, I enjoy inheriting the plants people are afraid they will kill. I have filled my house and office with such donations (not to mention supplying a large part of the local community with aloe vera sprouts), but I don't really believe in black thumbs.
Plants work very hard to live. That is the nature of plants -- what plants do. Given a reasonable chance, most will struggle on gamely. While I have seen some distinct signs of botanical favoritism, for the most part plants do not expire when confronted with an inappropriate aura, which is a common description of a black thumb. This is really too bad -- I would like to be able to weed the vegetable beds with merely the strength of my ire. My back, which is more accustomed to this work, is tired.
Certainly, there are delicate exotics. Growing a plant in a place far different than what nature intends is hard work. But if you choose plants carefully for the places in which they will be growing, what is left is mostly getting out of their way.
(That said, it is of course entirely possible to kill plants through neglect or active abuse. They must be watered at least occasionally, by you or nature, and if possible it is best to use water, rather than, say, Diet Coke or coffee. They can freeze, and they can burn. Many can also be drowned. Some do not respond well to being walked on, and few can tolerate trucks being parked on them. But still, with only a bit of diligence it should be possible to produce a reasonable covenant.)
Herbs, in particular, tend to be scrappier than most other domestics. For the most part, these are plants still very close to their wild forms. I do not want to overgeneralize, but while there are tender herbs, if I abandon my vegetable garden for half a year, it will cease to be a vegetable garden and become a wild, tangled place, in the worst possible way. If I abandon my herb garden for the same period of time, I might lose a few plants, but mostly it will be a messy, weedy, herb garden. I find this comforting.
So, I have tried to put together here a collection of herbs that are good picks for the beginning gardener, and stalwart companions for the busy gardener wanting to expand his or her garden. I selected the plants in this article using two criteria. I wanted plants that would be, if not foolproof, at least intelligence-proof when grown outdoors in the Pacific Northwest, and plants that would be of interest to the average (if there is such a thing) pagan gardener. So I tried to choose plants that were (if possible) useful magically, for cooking and medicinally. These plants are ones that I have planted in more than one of the gardens I have had over the years, and they have thrived even though periodically neglected. Obviously, I am not recommending that you never tend these plants. I am only saying that these are plants that are willing to meet you more than halfway. Like all plants, they still need light, heat, water and nutrients.
If you are striving for simplicity, and you have the option, you will be best off planting these in the ground. If you do not have a piece of ground, but would like to use this traditional approach, you might look into your local Pea Patches. For a nominal fee, you can rent a nice plot for a garden. Even better, you'll have the company of other gardeners for inspiration and support. (Though I struggle with the acre around our house, I still make regular trips to the Pea Patch in town just for community.)
Find a site that gets a reasonable amount of sun (direct sun for at least half of daylight hours would be best). Remove all unwanted plants from the area, including their roots, and then dig up the soil, turning it over, breaking up clods and raking it until it is light and fluffy. If the soil in question is heavy and wet, you might select another spot, or you might consider building a raised bed. Such beds can be constructed by simply piling up dirt into a mound over the area, or building a wooden frame that you then fill with dirt.
Ideally, your soil should be a rich, dark brown. If it is not, you might do well to get a few bags of compost (or beg a similar quantity from a gardening friend) and mix them into your prepared bed. The herbs I suggest are tough, being very closely related to the weeds they once were, and can survive poor soil. A little extra care getting them started, however, will pay off in stronger, healthier plants down the road. Good soil will ensure better nutrients and will also help water retention.
All of these plants can also be grown outdoors in pots, though in general the pots will need to be watered much more frequently (every day over the dry part of the summer, though there are soil additives that will help the pots retain water), and you'll need to spare at least the occasional thought toward soil fertility, repotting the plants and working in fresh compost at least once a year. Also, growing herbs in pots can be depressing if you don't have a good system set up for watering them regularly. While herbs in the ground usually have enough available moisture to survive a bit of neglect, a long hot weekend out of town can find you returning to brown, shriveled little corpses on your balcony. If you aren't absolutely certain that you will remember to water your plants every day when things are hot and dry, look into either soil additives (such as vermiculite) or some kind of automated drip-watering system.
For simplicity, again, I would suggest buying most herbs as starts, rather than seeds. You can get herb starts from most nurseries, but also from hardware and grocery stores. The quality from these secondary sources is not always as high, but the prices are often better. It is perfectly possible to start most herbs from seeds (true tarragon, which does not bear seeds, being an obvious exception, and a slightly fussy herb in other ways as well), but in general this will require more work. At the very least, you will need to provide shelter for your seedlings, as they are at much greater risk of damage from weather and pests when young. In many cases, you should start them indoors first, and then slowly acclimate them to the outside, a process that is outside of the scope of this article. However, the resources included at the end of the herb sidebar would be good places to look for information on starting herbs from seed.