I promised myself a herb garden at the Manse, way back at the beginning of the spring of 2012; my post about it (and sundry other garden dreams) is here. And now I have one! And while I am fully aware that in the overall scheme of the universe this is not exactly a very big deal, it gives me satisfaction to have actually created this little herb garden myself, and to know that there will be fresh parsley – and sage, and rosemary and thyme (and other herbs too) when Raymond and I want them for making dinner when in Queensborough.
The only thing is that the herb selection in our garden is not very broad or deep at the moment. Last weekend we went looking for herbs to buy and plant at various greenhouses in the Madoc–Tweed area, and I am sorry to report that the results were a tad disappointing. Is there little demand for herbs in the area? Or were we just too late in the herb-buying season? At any rate, the best place we found was the garden centre at the Tweed Valu-Mart, where we found tarragon, rosemary, Italian parsley and oregano. And the next day we found some curly parsley in Coe Hill (another post, still to come). But I guess for rustling up the chervil, thyme, sage and maybe basil and marjoram that we still need, we’ll have to rely on the splendid Jean Talon Market here in Montreal, which is easily enough done.
And then we will have a herb garden to beat the band. Which, by the way, I can see and watch growing when I look out the window of our little pantry kitchen at the Manse: the herb garden that I promised myself.
And for those who might have caught the vintage song I was alluding to when I wrote the title of this post… let’s have a look at Lynn Anderson and some crazy early-1970s dancing kids. You’re welcome.