A Summer Night
My Italian grandmother came from a small coastal village in Italy, near the Adriatic Sea, where she learned early on that fish was the best fertilizer for fruit trees, and cucumbers caught the best sunlight when planted near a northern fence, and the best time to plant parsley was on Good Friday.
In March, on the feast of St. Joseph, she seeded her flowering herbs, knowing instinctively just when to pick them and which ones to use for what illness: chamomile tea for a good night's sleep, rosemary and mint to soothe a stubborn cold, basil to relax a nervous stomach, and sage to calm everything from a headache to a sore throat.
In mid-August, a dazzling combination of annuals and perennials filled the sun drenched plots of Nonna's garden. She knew that bright blossoms stood up best against the harsh rays of the noon day sun; there she planted golden sunflowers, in rutted rows, that grew to unusual heights. Grandma grew the largest of sunflowers, the Russian Giants which grow 20 inch seed heads and the Kong Sunflower that grows 10-15 ft tall. They took up a lot of space, but they were well worth it for their unique attraction.
Sunflowers will appear out of the ground in a week to two weeks, and will start out slowly. When birds tried to feed on the seedlings grandma covered them with wire mesh, or something similar, to protect them. They were made from yard debris and kitchen scraps.
Grandma's sunflowers grew to unusally tall heights and their heads measured 18 to 20 inches across. At harvest time we all helped in the clipping off of the huge seed heads. When the seed heads started to turn brown that was the signal to cut them down. They were cut leaving 2 inches of the stem and hung to dry in the ventilated garage. When they were dry, we rubbed them together to loosen the seeds, then the seeds were soaked over night in salted water and then drained. We spread them on baking sheets and roasted for three hours at 200 degrees until dry. These can be stored in a container for eating.
Seeds for planting and bird feeding are saved before the baking process and stored in a dry cool place.
Helping grandma grow her sunflowers was a learning process. It taught me a lot about nature and the growing process, as well as the patience it takes to be a gardener.Grandma's sunflowers stood like bastions along the ranch house fences, their heads sparkling like small balls of sunshine, bouncing in the wind. On each year's growing season and cycles, Nonna's garden emerged stronger, healthier and bigger. I believe Nonna's ability to grow things was part instinct, part knowledge and, I suspect, a bit of magic tossed in for good measure. In her garden, Nonna could slow down the quickly passing days and feel closer to life. It was her Old World belief that a garden brought prosperity and harmony to a home.
NONNA'S SUNFLOWERS PRODUCED MAGICAL MOMENTS - One night, when I was about 9 years old, I spent a summer week-end with Nonna. A warm night and a full moon inspired me to open my bedroom window overlooking Nonna's garden.
As if expecting something remarkable to happen, I keenly surveyed Nonna's herbs and flowers under the moonlight. I remembered how her herbal remedies were almost magical in their curative powers - perhaps I was hoping to see some of that magic. I don't know how long I sat staring out the window.
The last glimmer of moonlight was just about to fade behind a passing cloud when Nonna's stately sunflowers, stiff as fence posts just seconds before, suddenly began shimmying violently like hootchy-kootchy dancers. Silhouetted against the moon, the imposing row of sunflowers formed a long, rhythmic conga line in this uniquely choreographed dance. A moment later, rosemary, mint and oregano stems, like scrawny ballerinas, began to pirouette and sway as they joined in the impromptu minuet. Summer blossoms suddenly unfolded, filling the air with tantalizing fragrance.
A flock of night birds feasting on the sunflowers had caused them to buckle and sway in the herky-jerky motion. Tiny winged insects and hungry night crawlers dining on the succulent herbs had encouraged the rhythmic movement of the burgening blossoms. Nonna's garden had come to life, just for me, and its heart beat softly to the rhythm of summer winds and fluttering birds' wings.
Today, on hot summer nights, when I open my bedroom window overlooking my own little garden, a sigh of sage, lavender, and sweet basil rise to greet me like Nonna's gentle touch. And her sunflowers grace my garden like her sunny smile.
10631 Vinedale Street, Sun Valley, CA 91352 - Phone (818) 767-3413 - Fax: (818) 767-1410
