learning | Seeds of Design

No matter where we find ourselves, gardeners are always gardeners. We notice plants that are minding their own business by the side of a street, rush to examine what’s pushing its way through walls of ancient ruins, insist on stopping the car on busy roads to see exactly what flowers are blooming in the wild, quiz farmers and produce vendors at the local market about the hows and whats of growing fruits and vegetables, cajole chefs to share recipes of unusual, out of the box presentations of vegetables ( a mille-feuille or Napoleon using thin layers of crisp eggplant instead of pastry anyone?), going out of the way to visit both famous as well as secret gardens. I’m guilty of all of the aforementioned traits – curiosity of the natural world sustains me endlessly. I know I’m not alone.

That said, here are some things I’ve noticed/learned/enjoyed on this current visit to Provence. Which is by the way, a place very close to my heart. I’ve been coming here for over 25 years and I’m still always experiencing new stuff. This region never ceases to inspire.

Provence is famous for its lavender. All those beautiful pictures of swathes of lavender are true. It really is stunning to see the fields and fields of this herb in bloom. I’ve known that the type that grows in lower altitude is widely used in household products (soaps, detergents and such) and the higher altitude lavender is the fine variety that is used in the perfume industry. The former is pollinated by insects like the honey bee while the latter is wind pollinated. There is also a hybrid type. Even small changes in altitude will influence the quality of any of the varieties.

Last week, I learned that despite France being the luxury perfume capital of the world, lavender is the only product that is truly French. Other flowers and industry components were and still are from former French colonies. Iris from Egypt for example. The region of Grasse, where the top perfume houses have their headquarters was simply selected because of its location – a port easily accessed from other parts of the world serving the perfume industry. One might see an occasional field of roses or some other flower in Grasse but that is hardly what is supplying the industry. Lavender however is a pure homegrown product and yet, its mostly treated like the stepchild of the business. Go figure.

This years olive harvest is being watched closely. Olives are wind pollinated. So when the small white flowers bloom, they depend quite literally on how the wind blows. This year, Provence received an usual amount of ill-timed rains which caused many olive trees to drop a good amount of the flowers. Consequently, it is expected that the harvest will be lower than usual. Quel domage.

I noticed for the first time how well jasmine grows in this region. While I’d been here before in lavender season which extends over a few weeks, I’d not had the pleasure until now to see and inhale the jasmines in bloom. Many home gardens have these plants scrambling up sides of the stones walls to make rather fetching images. Old walls of local stone softened by bright green vines tracing their way around makes for easy design solutions.

On a walk along a nondescript road in the middle of an old village, I noticed a tree bearing fruit amidst a random group of overgrown weeds and shrubs. It was not immediately clear what sort of fruiting tree I was looking at. Starting out yellow and then turning a pink-orange, these almost heart shaped fruits were larger than cherries but much smaller than plums. I picked a ripe fruit, a dried up drupe and a set of leaves and brought them back to the house. The PlantSnap app was no help at all. I still don’t exactly know what it is but on cutting the fruit, the pit looks to me that it is a type of plum. My research continues. Maybe like crab apples, this is a ‘crab plum’.

I’ve also been enjoying interesting creations where vegetables are being used in desserts. Chocolate and cream of artichoke hearts gateaux, popsicles of sugar snap and vanilla bean ice cream covered in a coating of white chocolate blended with peas. And lets not forget that mille-feuille of eggplant instead of pastry. I’ve had sweet horseradish sorbet accompanying a main course. A beet infused potato sliced so fine that it is transparent and somehow made crisp and flecked with blue petals of chicory accompanying an amuse-bouche. Every single one of these and other such dishes was truly delicious. And visually beautiful to boot. I’m now inspired to try my hand at coming up with my own unusual creations. If I succeed in ‘inventing’ even one dish, I’ll be rather chuffed!

And so it goes, the world is a great big classroom and a gardener is its eternal student.

Note: No apologies for the many lavender images! I simply cannot get enough!

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The garden looks and feels different these days. Mostly because I’m spending more time in it than I ever have. It’s a privilege to be privy to all the routine goings on in the garden. It feels more intimate.

My garden has always been an extension of our home. Apart from the actual time spent gardening, it is where we enjoy gathering for meals with or without friends, spend time reading in a shady corner or take a snooze. When my daughter was little, she’d play in the garden endlessly and nap in a hammock while I went about my weeding and planting chores.

But, these months, the garden has taken on a greater importance. It’s the go to place. For everything. Starting in the spring when lockdown was mandated, the only way to get some sense of normalcy was in the garden. Sunlight, fresh air, new growth – all life affirming and reassuring. To me, it was as though the world was telling me that it was going to be all right. When the news was scary and we were all getting anxious about the unfamiliar, formidable virus, stepping out in the garden and communing with nature was the sanity-keeping elixir.

Very quickly we each found ourselves in the garden for all sorts of things. My daughter finished up college from home. She attended her Zoom classes in the garden. My husband made the tree house his office. Phone calls were taken as he walked around the garden. I too brought my work out to the terrace – writing, planning, designing, painting. We Zoomed, FaceTimed and Skyped with family in far flung places and friends living much closer. We shared our garden with many. Virtually.

All along, we enthusiastically did all the necessary seasonal tasks required and savored the opportunity to watch it gradually grow and transform itself into a beautiful sanctuary. Our shelter from the stormy world.

Right now, as one looks around my garden, you get the feeling the garden itself is in compliance of the New York State mask mandate. The grapes, apples and most of the pears have been covered in bags. To protect them from pests and critters.

This year, I decided to try something I’d been wanting to do for years – growing pears in bottles. Of the original four bottles, two are doing well. I’m hoping the current heatwave does not harm them. The two other pears broke off from their stalk very early. It’s a simple project but it’s a thrill watching the fruit grow in their glass ‘muzzles’. I can totally envision the bottles in October –sitting pretty with a full pear. Ready to be filled up with pear brandy. For those cold winter nights up ahead.

These days, the garden is where we can meet our friends – safely and comfortably. We share meals and drinks at a distance. Play games. Easter, birthdays and a graduation were duly celebrated in the garden. Very small parties but party nevertheless. Quality over quantity.

We meet our visitors masked and distanced. But we meet – that means everything to us.

And speaking of celebrations, absolutely every good thing, big or small, is honored. The first sighting of a Monarch butterfly, the first fig or tomato of the season, a clean bill of health for a friend who has emerged safely from chemotherapy, the success of growing topiaries from root cuttings, a positive review of a poem or a sale of a painting, spying hummingbirds feasting at the cardinal flowers in the meadow, a handwritten note from a long ago friend, fresh flowers from the garden.The list is endless!

We’ve all come to know how fragile the world we’d come to take for granted truly is. Never again. The pandemic unmasked our hubris. Now, humbled and openly vulnerable, we relearn how to care. For ourselves, each other and our planet. In time, the physical masks we must now wear will come off but until then, they’re a small price to pay for our well-being.

Note: Sprucing up your home? Need gifts for brides/ newlyweds, housewarmings, hosts, birthdays? Do check out The Printed Garden collections. You will be supporting the ACLU at the same time!