Yarrow

I rarely see common pastel yarrows in gardens around town and wonder why. Because my records and memory are sloppy, I can’t remember when or how it came to be among the flowers in the Garden of Nemesis. I suspect I started it from seed in the house one late winter and later transplanted it outside. I do remember ordering the seeds for the less common red and tall yellow.

 As the yarrow proliferated, I relocated future generations to the front terrace, the berm and to soften the corners of the brick bungalow. It’s a humble plant, content to let its ferny foliage be the backdrop for the more showy flowers. It begins blooming in late May and will do so all summer if deadheaded; it just keeps on until frost.

Some call yarrow a “medicinal miracle,” as its leaves have been used for centuries to heal ulcers, sores and gastrointestinal problems. Its tea will break up a chest cold or a fever. Chew it for a toothache and to heal bleeding gums. Military doctors, even as late as the Civil War, used it as a poultice to staunch bleeding. Modern laboratories now produce synthetic substitutes for yarrow’s natural occurring chemicals. If one wants the real thing instead of its “shadow,” one need walk no further than the garden.