I just had to tell someone who would appreciate this, and y'all fit the bill. Just came back from my first real vacation in decades - in south Sweden and Copenhagen. Medieval castles and keeps and you name it, and many had reconstructed the abbey/keep/castle herb gardens. One especially, in Ysted, was phenomenal: raised beds of medicinal herbs of every stripe. Belladonna and hyssop, valerian and chamomile, St. Jon's wort and angelica, on and on. Some I'd never seen growing in situ, some as familiar as my garden, all in top shape and tenderly cared for. A veritable pharmacopeia in bloom. I laughed out loud, told DG to have a seat, and went prowling. A lady, maybe 80, was there, too. She spoke no English, but we kept pointing and oohh-ing to each other, and she reached out and tasted a mint leaf. That did it, we were going from plant to plant, showing each other the tasty leaves (yes, I know, only the safe ones!) and since we couldn't chat, we (ok, I) started baa-ing like a grazing sheep as we wandered the paths between the herbs. DG and her husband stared scandalized as this tiny lady and I had a whole discussion of what herbs were good for what, showing each other new delights, baa-ing and giggling and pointing, with not a word of any known language between us.

Oh, the gardens I saw.........and came back home, to searing heat, no rain till October, hard-packed brick for ground and fortunately, most of my herbs and plants alive and surviving well enough. My Middle Eastern garden is doing well (seedling starting season starts soon) but the garden in my head, the one that looks like a garden should, ah....won't ever grow here. Lucky lucky gal that I am, I got to see them firsthand, and the visions dance in my head like sugarplums.

Peace, Batya