A Summer Solstice Among the Herbs

Although I have a few herbs in the perennial garden south of the horse barn, I also grow herbs in pots on my deck. It is a sunny but private spot. It draws sun from the south and west but is shielded by a line a maple trees and a thicket of juniper. Virgina creeper clinging to the lattice work adds to the sense of privacy.

It is the perfect place to enjoy a summer evening. I head out there around 7 p.m., with a stack of garden or cookbooks. I light punk sticks, which keep bugs at bay and fill the air with woodsmoke. I might read, but I mostly dream and give thanks that the world is so beautiful.

If the day is warm, I'll bring an iced green tea with lemon and perhaps a sprig of lemon basil or mint.

I love to hear the nightjars and robins as dusk falls. Often a bird will find a perch at the crest of the old horse barn. The sight of one of these lovely creatures silhouetted against the robin's egg blue of the sky enchants me. Sometimes a heron will fly overhead or an egret or a skein of Canada geese.

Because of the herbs, the deck looks and smells wonderful. The green foliage in terra cotta pots against the deeper redwood stain on the deck is lovely to look at. I also keep herbs on my side porch where they can catch the morning sun and complement the red geraniums, but the deck is my real herb garden. I can step outside in the morning and snip fresh chives for my eggs and find fresh basil for my tomatoes in the evening.

Crushing a sprig of lavendar or rosemary in my fingers, I am reminded of the descriptions of herbs in "The Country of the Pointed Firs," by Sarah Orne Jewett. It is not French, but it is perfect reading for a summer night.