When is a weed not a weed? When it’s an herb. Presumably, most of the herbs we prize so highly were at one point, gathered by savvy cooks from the woodlands and meadows of yore, growing wild. Some of our culinary herbs (like basil) are pretty demanding in their requirements for sun and soil, and many a time my tendency to rush the season has resulted in a late frost wiping out my initial basil planting. Other, equally delightful herbs, are anything but picky, and literally grow like weeds.

Some wise gardener once said, that a weed is any plant growing where you didn’t intend for it to grow. Several years ago, I finally tackled the overdue project of getting rid of the creosote coated landscaping timbers that the gardener who owned this house before us had used to construct their raised beds. After laboriously tearing up and hauling away the offensive timbers, I intensively rototilled the garden patch (after incorporating a truckload of manure, a gift from the stable of a friend of my wife’s). At the time, my herb garden was part of the main garden patch. I did such a great job rototilling, that some little particle of chives and of lemon balm root was spread to every square inch of garden soil. Ever since then, chives and lemon balm have been my biggest weed nemesis.

After years of diligent weeding, I have mostly eradicated my favorite herb (chives) and it’s buddy lemon balm from my current raised beds. My herb garden is now mostly in assorted planters on the deck, so adding some flavor to a dish is only steps away from the kitchen. However, I use such quantities of chives, that I’ve let it run wild in a couple of the paths between my beds It doesn’t mind being stepped on, and provides an endless supply of chivey goodness. Speaking of which, I’ll go hack a few handfuls for tonight’s meatloaf.