
My heather, rich soft green in early July, fills in neatly between two lavendar plants, all of them happy on our dry sunny alpine slopes (low solar light hiding in there)
A lovely photo in The Guardian of an all-heather award-winning small garden from the Hampton Court Palace Flower Show appealed to me because it’s on different levels. With our mountainside slopes I have vague plans and dreams of some day building low walls to make terraced slopes, but these are projects for someone with more time and money.
The photo suddenly made me wonder, however, if Switzerland has heather and I realized I couldn’t think of the French for heather, since when I have seen it, mainly in Ireland and Scotland, I didn’t need my French.
Bruyère came up when I googled it and I had to laugh because of course my garden has it in several corners, and it’s famous in this part of the world as a plant you put in cemeteries. I was once told to be careful never to offer it as a gift, in Paris, for that reason. Meanwhile, chez moi, we could bury a lot of people, if heather is what is needed.
The laugh is on me because I’ve just cleaned out and redone our rock garden, and cutting back the ambitious heather was part of the job. I’ve been rooting out gangly plants I never liked, planting more flowers and a greater variety of colours. Now it needs two weeks for the plants to start producing more foliage and flowers, and this evening I will scatter nasturtium seeds, in shades of bright red and orange, around the bare edge of our bisse-fed pond, where the last of the tadpoles are quickly growing into miniature frogs.
Heather is used as a medicinal plant in homeopathic remedies, mainly for cystitis and urinary infections, according to Creapharma in Switzerland.
What I really had in mind was wild, blooming heather (which has sparked more than one song), Calluna vulgaris, and I found a lovely photo of it on a blog I’ve just tripped over, about Swiss wild flowers, flores et fleurs suisses. I’d like to thank the authors for their link to another interesting flowers site, new to me, Swiss Web Flora.
Heather does many nice things for a garden, and attracting bees is one of them in this age where we worry about disappearing bee populations. In Scotland it is reputed to bring happiness; there is surely a link.
For now it’s adding soft green but within weeks we’ll start to see pink and purple bushes there, a nice soft brush stroke of colour as the season evolves.
Someone asked me recently for advice on what plants to grow in the Alps, in mountainous areas. I’m still reflecting on this and will write about it later, but two things came to mind immediately, because they have been so easy to grow: pumpkins, which love to run down a slope, and wild grasses, which thrive on our sunshine, general dryness and good drainage.
I then realized I have a small space to fill in my garden, and I headed for Schilliger Garden Center in Gland. It is the perfect time to buy grasses, for you can see them at their glorious best, with twirls and frills and long curly bits.
The variety is astonishing, from small ground-huggers to plumes that are more than two metres high. The contrast of textures and tones is a visual treat, especially this time of year when flowers are past their best and the eyes long to settle on something peaceful in a garden. Grasses waving in the breeze are perfect for this.
GenevaLunch photo album of Schilliger grasses, images from 5 October 2009
My next to the last post was about the pleasure of finding dried peppermint leaves under deep winter snow, on the edge of the veranda or I would have needed a shovel. And then I, too, hibernated.
Now we have the raw pleasure of new, fresh peppermint leaves, hugging the ground, not worrying about whether or not the gardener has done her post-winter tidying of the beds. Each one is better than 10 sticks of peppermint gum or a whole sweet!
This recipe came to us from Liam Bates in Vancouver, who occasionally contributes travel articles to GenevaLunch:
Put mint leaves in a tea ball and let them steep in milk as you heat it for hot chocolate. Pour the milk over the dark chocolate powder, preferably Swiss!
So I gently lifted a branch of peppermint out of the January 1 snow this morning, pulled off the dried leaves and tried it.
I discovered that at least with dried leaves you need to heat the milk more slowly than I usually do with a speed heat burner. But the dried leaves are remarkably potent, keeping all their mintiness, so this was a wonderful winter garden surprise, even better than finding healthy sage leaves under the snow on Christmas Eve, just in time for the turkey’s bread and onion stuffing.
Verdict on the peppermint hot chocolate: definitely delicious!





























