An herb garden on the balcony

One of the biggest joys of summer are all the herbs growing in the garden - or if you’re like me and living in a city apartment right now, on the balcony.

At the garden center, it’s amazing what you can buy for around 100 francs, it fills the balcony (assuming said balcony is bigger than box-size but less large than a roof terrace). You can absolutely transform this space from June through September.

My basic herb selection consists of: basil, oregano, thyme, rosemary, sage, chives, parsley flat or curly (or both), lavender, mint. But there are plenty of others to add: tarragon, marjoram, savory, chervil, lemon balm, coriander, wild garlic and the list goes on. The long spiky leaves of lemon grass can make a very handsome addition.

I add some vegetable plants, like cherry tomatoes and eggplant, and some edible flowers over and above the ones that will appear on many of the herbs like chives and lavender. My favorites are nasturtiums because their yellow and orange blossoms lend such a vibrant note, and they are highly effective visually in large pots, window boxes, or hanging baskets.

To get the effect I want out of my balcony garden, I spend a lot of time repotting all the garden center purchases into real terra cotta pots I already have (no plastic allowed). The pots vary in size from huge to maybe a foot tall, and there are also some long box-like planters. Some of the pots are decorated with swags of fruit and other motifs in relief, some are plain. I arrange everything attractively in and around the year-round inhabitants of the balcony, such as the huge fatsia japonica and a laurel tree.

I also have a lily plant that blossoms year in year out, and its pink flowers on tall stems rising out of a rounded Italian pot adds a lot to the effect of a lush, casual yet controlled garden I try to achieve. Sometimes I buy additional (non-edible) flowers to lend color: columbine (ancolie in French) was a major success one year.

In and among all this I place candles (the low kind you use for warmers) in plain and vibrant blue glass holders. Care needs to be given in the placement of these so the candles can’t set anything alight or singe plant leaves.

You can add Moroccan lanterns, big floor cushions, a small water feature, wind chimes - I’m all for fusion as long as it’s uncluttered and ‘works’. Instead of lanterns I have some small terra cotta musicians, their eyes hollowed out so you can see the glow from the lit candle inside. I nestle them in among my jumble of lush vegetation. I found the figures in Bali, where they are very common, playing their flutes and drums to ward off evil spirits. The Balinese put fresh hibiscus blossoms behind their ears to decorate them.

Another fusion element I like occasionally is to take a fistful of (good quality) incense sticks and stick them in a blue and white Asian pot full of soil, the way you see this done - in sand - in temples in Vietnam. The only problem with that is that if the wind is going the wrong way the smell of the incense can get overwhelming, but more saliently, it overpowers the smell of the herbs.

Because smell they do, mostly of southern climes or cottage gardens - rosemary, lavender et al, and the tomato plant after a warm day in the sun releases a lovely scent of ripe fruit. (Less delicious smelling but by no means offensive are little pufflets of tart, oniony smell that chives and wild garlic send out occasionally.)

Aside from the visual beauty of the garden, which can be enjoyed from two rooms in the flat where I leave the big French doors leading out to the balcony open, there’s also an audio component if traffic noise isn’t too strong which where I live it isn’t. So the sound of birds tweeting and bees droning (they, like butterflies, are attracted to the garden) prevails. Sitting at my desk writing and looking out at the garden, I don’t feel I’m in a city at all.

Now for the eats part. Nothing beats monitoring vegetables as they grow, and then when they’re ripe picking them and preparing them to eat. The same for stepping out on the balcony with scissors and snipping off whatever herbs you need for dishes you’re cooking.

No omelette aux fines herbes is more delicious than the one sprinkled with fresh chopped parsley, chives, tarragon and chervil, no saltimbocca better than the one prepared with your own sage, no salad more beautiful than the one including home-grown nasturtium flowers, no garnish superior to your own sprigs of lavender flowers or flowering thyme.

Ditto teas - some of the herbs, notably mint, make lovely tisanes: just snip off a fistful of leaves and boil in water.

I don’t recommend setting up an herb garden if you’re going on holiday and don’t have anybody to water the plants: no bigger bummer than coming back and finding it all dead. But if you can ensure that the garden gets the (very modest amount of) care it needs uninterruptedly, this kind of summer garden gives you an awfully big bang for your buck. To facilitate finding the herbs listed in this blog, I’ve added a little glossary below.

Visual (basil): www.freedigitalphotos.net

English/French/German Glossary of Herbs

Basil, basilic, Basilikum

Chervil, cerfeuil, Kerbel

Chives, ciboulette, Schnittlauch

Coriander (cilantro), coriandre, Koriander

Lavender, lavande, Lavendel

Lemon balm, mélisse, Zitronenmelisse

Lemon grass, citronelle, Zitronengras

Marjoram, marjolaine, Majoran

Mint, menthe, Minze

Nasturtium, capucine, Kapuzinerkresse

Oregano, origan, Oregano

Parsley (flat-leaved), persil plat, Glatte Petersilie

Parsley (curly), persil frisé, Krause Petersilie

Rosemary, romarin, Rosmarin

Sage, sauge, Salbei

Savory, sarriette, Bohnenkraut

Tarragon, estragon, Estragon

Thyme, thym, Thymian

Wild garlic,  ail de l’ours, Baerlauch