COSTMARY

COSTMARY


Beside the wooden back steps at my grandmother's house in
Ellisburg, PA, was a big, leafy plant with a pleasant, minty scent.
"Rosemary," they told me and I believed that until I was a young adult.

I remembered the scent and Rosemary with its piney, oily smell was not it. Whenever I was near an herb garden, I'd look closely at anything vaguely resembling the plant of my memory. It was always one of those niggling loose ends, like trying to recall the name of the child who sat across from you in second grade.

Then, one summer afternoon, on a visit to Philipsburg Manor, a Historic Hudson Valley site at Sleepy Hollow, New York, I found it. In a quiet setting above the Hudson River and apart from a busy thoroughfare, was a mill, barns and gardens. One of the gardens was devoted to old species: herbs and flowers from colonial times. Among the thriving green beds, was a healthy-looking bush with frilled leaves. I nipped one and there it was! I was transported across time and space to my grandmother's back steps, where I saw my own child self, pinching the leaves.

"Costmary" the tag read. No wonder they called it "rosemary," close enough! I took a leaf and kept it until it finally disintegrated.
Now I knew what I'd been searching for but I was a long way from having any of my own.

Years passed. I moved from a country place with plenty of room for gardens to a city apartment with a large terrace. Here I keep a seasonal garden planted in pots of various sizes. I carry water out there daily because the sun and wind quickly dry the soil.

Like everyone else who has ordered anything online, I get catalogs, tons of them. "The Growers Exchange" of Charles City, Virginia, sent one and as I paged through it, I came across costmary, its picture and description: "Valued medicinally for its antiseptic properties - fresh leaves ease insect stings and bites. The sweet-scented leaves that are reminiscent of men's cologne are often used in tonic teas." Chrysanthemum balsamita. Tanacetum balsamita. Also known as "Bible Leaf." $5.95 a plant. I ordered three.

Then I waited. I checked often to see if the order had been sent. I waited some more then went away for a couple of weeks. While I was gone, I asked family members to watch the mail. Finally, long after I had given up, a well-padded parcel appeared in the mailbox. I carefully unwrapped three small plants looking road-weary and in need of a drink. I potted them together and left them on the kitchen counter for a few days, watering lightly and letting the sun shine on them a little. After a couple of weeks, I put the pot outside on the terrace in a shaded spot and out of the wind.

There they are, not looking anything like the picture in the catalog or in that Sleepy Hollow garden or by my grandmother's back steps. I will take them to Martha's Vineyard where I have a few herbs growing in a raised bed and tuck them in there, wishing them good luck and hoping for the best. I feel as if I finally solved a mystery and brought the solution home.