I myself am not much of a gardener; never have been, and accepting of the fact that I most likely never will be. No matter how hard I try, I find it difficult to keep plants alive – the number of succulents and even air plants (SUPPOSEDLY THEY JUST NEED AIR) to wither and disintegrate under my care surpasses the hit count from the last scene of Godfather III with that helicopter.

When I moved into my beautiful house, the former owners clearly did not share this deficiency. Not only is the house surrounded by gorgeous plants, many of them were things that I had always really loved. Naturally, I moved in during the summer – literally two weeks after the water was turned off and the former owners had left, and there was little that could be salvaged by the time I actually could water them. Yikes. I crossed my fingers that the majority of my green friends were perennials and spent the fall and winter randomly googling if there’s something I should, like, be doing for the plants at this time?

That following spring, my only goal was just to keep everything alive through fall, of course not really knowing a single one of any plant’s rhythms, so there could very well be some that are meant to bloom in March and die by June, who knows.

After a relatively successful spring and summer of not killing anything, I decided it was time for me to put my own mark on the landscaping. But the problem was that I didn’t even remotely know what I liked. Flowers are pretty, yes. I like pretty flowers. But let’s be honest: A lot of them are WAY more trouble than they’re fucking worth just for aesthetics. I am neither a delicate flower in metaphor nor a person who cares for actual, literal delicate flowers, and it seemed that everything at the gardening center required its own greenhouse and a coterie of butlers to attend to its every need.

Thinking about what I did like about what was already there (and there was plenty I didn’t), I found that it almost always went back to two qualities other than looks: smell and touch.

Now, I wouldn’t call myself a “sensorial” person or whatever. But every time I went to the Brooklyn Botanic Gardens, I spent a lot of time in The Alice Recknagel Ireys
Fragrance Garden, an unbelievably wonderful space that showcases plants for touching and smelling, designed for the visually impaired. That’s where I first started my habit of grabbing and stroking lamb’s ear every time I saw it, and really leaned into my mint addiction. Part of the reason I knew this house was for me was that both plants were in the backyard. Also, bonus: My cursory research over the first year showed me that nothing can kill them either.

I don’t know where my addiction to smell and touch stuff comes from, only that it super helps my anxiety. Mindfulness and meditation I think also lend a hand in being particularly drawn to forms of stimulation other than sight. I just . . . kept grabbing stuff as I walked out to my garage, for a quick touch or smell respite, and would legit feel my heart rate slow down. All that shit is probably complementary and compounding: You’re really anxious and sometimes as a result become hyper aware, zeroing in on one weird detail (like a smell or texture), focus your awareness on it, then find that it’s calming. Of course, I know that for a lot of people just the “surrounded by greenery” thing is certainly helpful – it is for me too, to an extent – but I felt like I broke into a new level when I started making a point to buy and mess with plants that were less about looks and more about interaction.

My first purchase was a lilac bush, a smell I can’t get enough of. It was only $8 at the local discount grocery store! Just sitting there at the point of sale with its buddies! I thought there was no way in hell it’d actually take, but take it did. A hardy little beast, apparently. No flowers yet, and therefore no smell (apparently not for three years), but the fact that it actually survived winter and came back and grew more was so utterly mind blowing to my no-gardening-talent self that I was eager to see how much more of the magic known as “the life cycle” I could conjure, like some sort of witch.

Then, I just went back to the gardening center as I got more of an idea of what I was looking for and just started touching everything. Look at this weird little moss thing! It’s so incredibly soft, and I’m 99% sure it doesn’t belong in a pot, but she gets a lil’ pet whenever I’m around her.

Silver Mount Artemisia, which I’m pretty sure shouldn’t be in a pot but oh well.

Speaking of pets, and also earlier, my appreciation of hardiness, I was delighted to discover that my front yard had a peony plant. Not just any peonies either: Big, fat fuchsia (one of my fave colors) peonies that hold up exactly as I’d hoped when I felt the urge to grab and aggressively caress them like the head of a friendly Shar-Pei.

Ugggghhhhh the lushness is enough to make me weep. And while not known for lasting very long once cut, I got lucky this year and must have taken some inside at just the right time – they lasted for about 10 days before wilting. And what a wilting! OMG! Like . . . like the layers of a quilted blanket, the petals fall into these incredible, perfect rows that are so coordinated as to remind one of the kicks of a line of Rockettes. Fabulous. I absolutely hated sweeping them into the garbage. I wish I knew a way to preserve them, like a Victorian noblewoman, spreading them across the photo of a lover long lost at sea.

Even if a plant wasn’t particularly enjoyable to touch, I found one that looks like it would be enjoyable to touch. Look at this weirdo.

Pinball Purple Gomphrena, or as I like to call her, “Lady Spaceballs.”

Supposedly these are perennials, and I really hope so. We’ve got a similar fuchsia color (though in my opinion it leans more toward purple, my all-time favorite color; I’m 35, by the way, and I have a favorite color; what’s yours? Favorite food? I miss that we don’t talk about favorites any more), and it looks like something from a Dr. Seuss book. There isn’t much to write home about when you grab at it – not nearly as satisfying or stimulating as the Shar-Pei peony, but I mean what is, really? However, I like sitting on my porch and looking at it, thinking that those little purple fuzzy balls are in communication with something or someone on another planet, letting them know what shit show earth is and that the chick in this house is ready and willing to go to Mars for some weird experiments.

The last new plant purchase was an oldie but a goodie, lavender. God, I love lavender. Is this what the kids call “basic”? I don’t care. And I’m always searching for lavender-scented products that are juuuuusssssstttt right. Most often, they’re way too flowery. There’s something about “real” lavender that’s got some zing to it – a sharpness and an underlying earthiness. Just a hint of dirt, a little clue that this is, in fact, more on the side of a green plant than a purple flower, if you had to pick one.  But weirdly, even though I knew which “type” of lavender scent I like, did you know . . . I had never smelled an actual, living lavender plant before? Is that fucking nuts? For all I knew, the flowery scent was the more “correct” one. I mean, I doubted it, because nature is more interesting on its own than when people try to recreate it but still. Could’ve been!

When I saw that wee lavender plants were at the local big box hardware store for only $4.50 each, I approached with a bit of trepidation. Because what if they were a huge letdown? And you know what? They could’ve been, had I not known the old Girl Scout trick of smelling plants by rubbing their leaves between your fingers and smelling what’s left on them.

The smell totally rocked me – amaaaazzzziiiinnnnggg. Incredibly strong, and exactly the version I loved best: Zingy and earthy and pure and sweet. Mmmmmmm. I could’t get enough. I got two, and figured if they “took,” then I’d get at least a couple more, maybe even more.

As summer went on, however, I started to get a bit bummed thinking about how I wouldn’t have any of these delightful smells and touches available to me for a solid six months, the mint and lavender especially. The time limit on mint, despite its hardiness, is shorter because once it blooms (more purple flowers!) the “mintiness” turns more bitter, less refreshing. I, of course, had no idea how to “dry” things except for laundry, and didn’t even know what to do with it once it was dry, so away to Google I go.

Starting with mint, the first thing on the “dry and harvest mint” website I found said to make sure you don’t pull it out by the root.

Okay, so. I can explain. I have a shit ton of mint at my house. Tons of it. And there are more lil’ individual plants every year. It spreads like wildfire. I waited too long, and every single mint plant except this one had bloomed, and so I couldn’t use the leaves for anything (I’m sure that a famous chef or horticulturalist or herbalist or witch or whatever is screaming that that’s not true but calm down this is my first rodeo and I read one website). Anyway, this one was growing in a corner, it was a new baby, and had started late, and I really didn’t mean to yank the whole thing out but there we are oh well. It came out so easily, like legit bringing a knife . . . back out of hot butter? Whatever. I maintain I barely pulled it and the whole damn thing just came out.

But look at that thing! Massive! And the most gorgeous shade of green – legit mint green.

I rinsed it “to get rid of bugs” but honesty I didn’t see any bugs. Plus I wasn’t going to use it to cook with (though I do make a mean mint yogurt sauce, fresh mint is way better), so I wasn’t super concerned about dirt and stuff.

After a few days, I cracked open my one “craft bin” and found adorable little drawstring bags, most likely leftover from either a project for my students (I like to make Montessori materials) or a baby or bridal shower I hosted. I guarantee you they cost pennies, and come in handy for moments like this when you spontaneously decide to try being something you absolutely have no right to be.

So there I had it! A wee lil’ satchel like a . . . a . . . fairy? Or gnome? Who knows! And boy has it been a blessing. A lot of my anxiety is stomach based – I can’t eat, I feel knots in my stomach, etc. And mint is really, really great for that. I just take a big ol’ whiff and instantly feel my belly unclench. Because it’s so strong, it can also be used for when you walk through particularly stinky places, such as literally everywhere now that we have all been ruminating in our own smells and as soon as we leave the house after six months we’re going to immediately start gagging.

I did the lavender next, followed essentially the same process, but the only difference was that I didn’t have nearly as much to work with as the mint (I wasn’t as willing to pull an entire plant up by the root and shred it, sorry mint!). Turns out, it didn’t matter. This is how much I ended up putting in the bag . . .

. . . But it’s so effin’ strong that, even though the bag looks empty, you can easily smell it. Especially, again, if you use the ol’ “rub between your fingers trick.”

Hopefully these two portable anxiety reducers will tide me over for the winter. I looked into whether or not you could bring them inside and keep them alive and . . . it seemed complicated so my investigation quickly ended. Maybe you can though! Lavender seems like it can be kept in a pot, so . . . And isn’t mint one of the things you get when you buy that insanely expensive lil’ plant dome with its own light?

Long story longest, if you find yourself constantly in the fetal position over . . . all of this and perhaps more, might I recommend getting some green buddies that you can pet and smell? There’s this mindfulness trick that’s pretty common to use when your anxiety rises: Name five things you can see, four things you can touch, three you can hear, two you can smell, and one you can taste. Awakening yourself, if only for a moment, to what’s physically tangible around you is so incredibly helpful in feeling more grounded. As summer ends I shall bid adieu to many of my new lil’ friends, but I’ll never forget their lessons! (hahaha that’s the dumbest way to end anything, ever, sorry!!)

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