The Herb Garden That Could

A few years ago, I wrote an article called “The Herb Garden That Could.” It was a gentle invitation to grow something. A few pots on a windowsill, a balcony, a little patch of ground. Herbs seemed like a manageable beginning for anyone curious about gardening but less enthusiastic about becoming responsible for an entire vegetable plot.

I’m revisiting it this autumn because, well, we have so many herbs now.

What was once a suggestion in a magazine has become something I can walk outside and look at and share generously with neighbors and friends. The old article offered possibilities. The garden has given me particulars.

Driving by the garden and seeing Ms. Cynthia or Ben at the elevated herb bed, sniffing and snipping, leaves me smiling for blocks. Ms. Cynthia is from Trinidad and loves the thyme. Ben is fond of the mint and basil. I imagine the conversation they might have about what each takes home and what they make with it.

There is a particular pleasure in growing something you can use a little at a time. A few leaves can change a meal. A small handful can give you an idea for something to make. You don’t always need a grand harvest or an afternoon set aside for processing it—which suits my garden-to-desk-to-school-pickup-to-meeting days. Sometimes you just need scissors and a baggie.

Of course, growing herbs and using them are two different habits. I can admire a plant for weeks before remembering that it could come into the kitchen with me. I love this pause—how easily herbs let me suspend the desire to complete the transaction. I can enjoy what’s growing without needing to do anything with it.

I still believe in the invitation that began the original article. An herb garden can be small. It can be imperfect. It can begin with something you already know you like to eat. You can learn one plant well before adding another.

I’d write the invitation differently now: start with what gives you pleasure—a meal, a drink, the scent of a leaf. At We3 Gardens, that pleasure is shared, along with the stories and knowledge neighbors bring to what’s growing.

The herb garden could. It did. And now there are neighbors with scissors.