Category: Gardening

Hydrangea Bathing

Last summer, I wrote about The Healing Garden hidden behind the main building of Buffalo’s Botanical Gardens. I was fascinated to learn that hospitals are creating these gardens everywhere, now that medical science has proven nature reduces stress in both hospital patients and staff. Unfortunately, one of our close friends was diagnosed with cancer, so I decided to turn a section of our property into a place where our friend could sit and relax after treatments, and soak up the sights, sounds, and smells of nature.

My healing garden in March 2019. All photos are copyright by Moxie Gardiner

After doing some research, I learned that true healing gardens combine three important elements: green vegetation, flowers, and water. I also discovered Shinrin-yoku, a Japanese term that means “taking in the forest atmosphere” or “forest bathing.” It was developed in the 1980s and has become a cornerstone of preventive health care and healing in Japanese medicine. The premise is that simply by being in nature, you connect with it through all five senses of sight, hearing, taste, smell and touch. I embraced these principles and built the healing garden around them, beginning in early March of this year.

My healing garden in late June 2019

I felt it was important to create the garden against a wooded backdrop of trees and shrubs where birds, butterflies, bees, and other wildlife would feel protected as they visited the garden. Scientific studies have found that many trees give off organic compounds that support our “natural killer” cells, part of our immune system’s way of fighting cancer.

Eastern tiger swallowtails cover the butterfly bush

Coneflowers, marigolds, asters, and black-eyed susans are scattered among the garden plantings to add color and to feed the birds. Hummingbird feeders are tucked in a separate corner to make sure our smallest avian guests have nourishment too.

We added fish to the small pond. The frogs came on their own.
Hummingbirds are territorial and like to eat alone
Hyssop attracts a variety of pollinators

I carved out one small section for an herb garden. It includes not only culinary herbs like basil, thyme, rosemary, chives, oregano and sage, it also incorporates medicinal herbs like bee balm, lemon balm, feverfew, and echinachea. Lavender, mint, and roses all have curative properties, but I wanted them in the garden for their intoxicating scents.

The herb garden. Yes, there is parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme!
Bee balm
Bees love the bee balm!

In the photos, you’ll also notice a few “unnatural” things added strictly for the comfort of the human visitor. A hot tub hidden in a back corner. Wind chimes. Solar powered lights along gravel paths (for different sounds and sights in the evenings). A bench with deep cushions.

The chimes provide a pleasant sound while one soaks in the hidden hot tub.
The fountain mimics the sound of a babbling brook, and is lit for nighttime enjoyment.

Could you create a smaller, less complicated healing garden if you had limited space? Absolutely. A shady tree, some ferns, a few flowers, and a bird bath would be enough.

Can you spot the spicebush swallowtail butterfly enjoying the nectar?

At this point you might ask, does it actually work? I offer two observations. First, my friend with cancer, who visited the garden several times, is in remission (no, I have no hard evidence to prove the connection, but I want to believe it helped). Second, though I am beleaguered more by stress than illness at the moment, I know I have reaped the benefits of full immersion in this natural setting. It calms me, centers me, heightens my senses, jump starts my creativity, and sharpens my intuition. I think it helps me as a writer too.

If you sit quietly, the creatures will come to you

So I ask, what could be more cathartic, or inspiring, than bathing in the stillness and beauty of a hydrangea bush in full flower? To sit and fully appreciate the magnificence of those dazzling white orbs nestled in a bed of soothing green? I settle near them and close my eyes, and hear the bird song, the wind chimes, the burbling fountain, and the gentle breeze rustling the boughs of the pine trees above me. I connect with the rhythms of the natural world. And I am at peace.

“Everybody needs beauty…places to play in and pray in where nature may heal and cheer and give strength to the body and soul alike.”
― John Muir

If you enjoyed this article, please leave me a comment. I would love to hear from you.

The Hunt for Gardoons

When I was a child, I remember how on chilly mornings in early spring, solitary figures armed with sharp knives and paper bags would leave their West Side homes on a mission both secret and urgent. This clandestine army would walk or drive along roads and parks, woods, fields, and empty lots, looking for a plant that reminded them of Sicily. They were in search of wild gardoons, sometimes called cardoons, garduna, even carduni, depending on where your people were from. If you were lucky enough to find a good patch, you kept it close to the vest, sharing the prized location only with your closest family members.

Gardoons here in the US are not the same plant as in Sicily. It is actually burdock, a close relative of the Italian cardoon, which tastes like artichoke and looks and cooks a lot like celery. The long stringy stalks of the wild gardoon must be peeled and boiled before its edible. Many dredge it in eggs and breadcrumbs and fry it. Some even freeze it in its raw form, to make sure there is some available to serve on the Feast of San Giuseppe (patron saint of Sicily), in mid-March.[1]  

My Sicilian grandmother also liked to cook dandelion greens, particularly in spring when they were young and tender. Far more plentiful than gardoons, they could be found in yards all over the West Side. While delicious simply sautéed with olive oil and garlic, I remember eating them with scrambled eggs and parmesan cheese. I’m not sure my grandmother knew this, but dandelion greens are a great source of vitamins A, C, E and K and contain small amounts of B vitamins as well as several minerals.[2]

Not long ago, during one of our master gardener conferences, we had an expert talk to us about foraging, also known as “wildcrafting.” This is the ancient practice of searching for and harvesting plants in their natural habitat for use in the kitchen or for medicinal purposes. The expert talked about a growing movement in the US focused not only on the benefits of foraging, but also the need to protect these valuable plants from overharvesting, invasive species, and unfortunately in some cases, theft.[3]

A number of European countries host similar movements. According to one such group, “Plants for a Future,” there are over 20,000 species of edible plants in the world, but fewer than 20 species provide 90% of our food. They argue that the changing world climate warrants a greater diversity of food sources, and encourage what they call “woodland/forest gardening.”[4]

Wildcrafting enthusiasts, sensitive to the repercussions of overharvesting, recommend taking only the fruit, flowers or branches of wild plants, and leaving the living plant to replenish itself. If a whole plant must be taken, they suggest removing only a few plants and leaving the rest of the patch intact.[5]  

In West Virginia, where we now spend many weekends, we hunt for wild delicacies in the Appalachian hills. Ramps—stinky wild leeks that taste like onions with a hint of garlic—grow in the woods, as do morels, a funny-looking mushroom that comes in both “black” and “blond” varieties. It is possible to find both ramps and morels at West Virginia farmer’s markets this time of year, but it is much more fun to find them on your own.

Much like the wild gardoon sites in urban Buffalo, the location of a ramp or morel patch in the hills of West Virginia is a closely guarded secret. It almost takes a sixth sense to discover your first one. So whenever I set out to find one, I channel the spirit of my ancestors, the first foragers I ever knew, on the West Side of Buffalo.

Have you or your loved ones ever foraged for food? Tell me about it! I would love to hear your stories.

Moxie Gardiner is a writer and gardener who grew up on the West Side of Buffalo, NY. In a previous life she was a journalist, magazine editor, speech writer, and policy wonk. Back in the day she made three solo parachute jumps, flew in an F-15 fighter jet, and crawled through mud pits at the Jungle Operations Training Course in Panama. She now meditates and practices yoga. She is almost ready to publish her first novel, set in Buffalo.

[1] Never cooked gardoons? Here’s a great article in Smithsonian Magazine to get you started. https://www.smithsonianmag.com/arts-culture/what-heck-do-i-do-cardoon-180950301/

[2] For more on the benefits of eating dandelions, see https://sunwarrior.com/blogs/health-hub/11-health-benefits-of-dandelion-leaves-and-dandelion-root

[3] For more info on wildcrafting check out https://botanicalstudies.net/wildcrafting/

[4] See their website, https://pfaf.org/user/AboutUs.aspx

[5] For more information on “considerate foraging,” check out https://www.foragers-association.org.uk/index.php/principles-and-practice

Gardens That Heal

photo of Buffalo Botanical Gardens
Buffalo Botanical Gardens, all photos by Moxie Gardiner

Last summer I visited an old friend: the Botanical Gardens in the south of Buffalo. I’d had a tough year, with multiple loved ones suffering a variety of serious illnesses, and I needed a respite from the stress. My son and his girlfriend, knowing I’m a Master Gardener, suggested we visit the Botanical Gardens and I readily agreed.

After wandering around the familiar rooms with their dazzling colors and earthy smells, I picked up a brochure that talked about a part of the gardens I hadn’t visited before, the Healing Garden. I had long been aware of the therapeutic effect working in the garden has had on me, but a separate, formal garden devoted to healing? Weren’t all gardens “healing” gardens?

photo of healing garden in Buffalo
Entrance to the Healing Garden

As it turns out, a great deal of research is underway into the connection between nature and healing. Many hospitals (including Mercy Hospital, one of the sponsors of the healing garden mentioned above) now realize that nature is an important factor in reducing patient as well as staff stress. They have begun to specifically design green spaces to improve health outcomes.

When I began my own research into this new trend, I learned that therapeutic gardens, healing gardens, medicinal gardens, herb gardens, and meditation gardens are all based on the same premise, i.e. nature as healer, but are often designed differently with a particular purpose in mind.

Therapeutic landscapes or gardens are designed to meet the needs of a specific patient population. Our Master Gardener Demonstration Garden, for example, has a therapeutic garden designed specifically for autistic children. Other therapeutic gardens focus on “cut flowers,” used to help nursing home patients design flower arrangements they can keep in their rooms. The purpose of these gardens is the active and deliberate involvement of the patients.

Healing and meditation gardens, on the other hand, aim for passive involvement. They are places where anyone can come to take in the benefits of a soothing natural space. Veterans Affairs and the military, for example, are now seeking the advice of horticultural therapists to address Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD). Studies show that after a stressful event, images of nature have a calming effect. Healing and meditation gardens tend to combine elements found in nature: green vegetation, flowers, and water.

Elements of a healing garden
Elements of a healing garden

Medicinal and herb gardens focus on the qualities of certain plants integral to the development of modern medicine. The National Library of Medicine at NIH, for example, has a medicinal garden right on its grounds. Begun in 1976, the garden now features nearly 100 varieties of herbs, many of which have found new appreciation from doctors and herbalists alike.

St. John's Wort, Buffalo Botanical Gardens
St. John’s Wort in the healing garden

The Healing Garden I visited at the Buffalo Botanical Garden seemed to combine the best of healing and medicinal gardens. Tucked in a back corner of the property, I wandered alone among the bee balm, hyssop, and St. John’s Wort. The Secret Garden, a classic book by Frances Hodgson Burnett, immediately came to mind. I thought about the little orphaned heroine of the book and how having a secret green space of her own improved the quality of her life.

Gardens, with their natural rhythms of birth, life and death, have inspired many writers to examine the deep spiritual connection we have with nature, and to view our own mortality differently. As a gardener, I spend many hours nurturing my plants, but I left the healing garden in Buffalo with a new appreciation for how gardens nurture me. I plan to create my own healing garden at home. I’ll keep you posted on its progress.

Future healing garden

Do you have a garden? I would love to hear your own stories of nature and nurture. Add a comment or write to me! Your email address is seen only by me and will not be made public.

Moxie Gardiner is a writer and gardener who grew up on the West Side of Buffalo, NY. In a previous life she was a journalist, magazine editor, speech writer, and policy wonk. Back in the day she made three solo parachute jumps, flew in an F-15 fighter jet, and crawled through mud pits at the Jungle Operations Training Course in Panama. She now meditates and practices yoga. She is almost ready to publish her first novel, set in Buffalo.

Chestnut Time at the Armory

One of my favorite memories growing up in Buffalo was the annual trip my brothers and I would take each fall to collect chestnuts at the Connecticut Street Armory. At least, we thought they were chestnuts.

Continue reading “Chestnut Time at the Armory”

What I Learned About Writing from a Tomato

I am a gardener. And I’m a writer. So naturally, every day from 9 to 5, I am wracked with guilt and mild self-loathing. When I am outside in the garden, I feel guilty that I am not at my desk, butt-in-chair, working on my next blog or novel. When I’m at my desk, I wonder what kind of idiot willingly sits in a dark basement on a beautiful gardening day. Continue reading “What I Learned About Writing from a Tomato”