salt spring 17

A DOSE OF SALT
theSea
the dew of
WORDS JOSEPHINE MOON ILLUSTRATION AMY OREO
LATELY, I’VE BEEN PONDERING the
virtues of the humble rosemary plant.
At our house, rosemary bushes grow in a garden bed near the
chook houses, sharing space with lavender (a close relative in the
Lamiaceae family), a few sprawling zucchini and broccoli plants,
and some exotics I’d rather weren’t there. It’s growing in pots on
my verandah and for months now I’ve been actively cutting and
striking new plants, delighted at how easily posies of cuttings grow
new roots while sitting in tiny jars of water on the kitchen bench.
I’m a lazy yet enchanted gardener by nature, so hardy plants like
rosemary, which tolerate my neglect with patience and fortitude,
are enthusiastically welcomed into my motley crew of vegetation.
Rosemary and lavender are possibly two of my favourite plants
of all time.
Rosmarinus officinalis comes from the Latin ros, meaning dew,
and marinus, meaning sea. It is therefore known as ‘dew of the
sea’. Appropriate for where we live here on the coast and in the
hinterland.
Rosemary, for all its culinary and medicinal wonders, is also
steeped in legend, folklore and tradition, associated with the
goddess Aphrodite, Jesus and Mother Mary, and mentioned in
no less than five of Shakespeare’s plays. Historically, it has been
burned to purify the air of sickness and plagues and to ward
off evil spirits. Brides carried wreaths of woven rosemary on
their wedding day and gold-dipped sprigs were given to guests.
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