Hello, fellow lovers of all things green.
Recently, I attended an open house at Well-Sweep Herb Farm here in Warren County, New Jersey. The event was filled with interesting lectures, vendors offering delicious food and beautiful art, and, of course, plenty of plants to tempt gardeners like me.
I’ve visited Well-Sweep several times over the years, purchasing plants for clients and occasionally bringing clients along. But this time was special because I was there to relax, enjoy the beauty, and learn. Not to buy plants.
But of course, I did buy plants.
A Storyteller’s Herb Garden
The day began with a tour of the formal herb garden led by Patrick McDuffee, the third generation of the family that has nurtured Well-Sweep for the last 57 years.
Patrick McDuffee, third-generation steward of Well-Sweep Herb Farm, shares the stories, folklore, and history behind the plants.
Patrick majored in biology, but what struck me most wasn’t his scientific knowledge. It was his storytelling. He reminded me of the legendary gardeners I’ve known—people who understand that plants aren’t just plants. They carry history, folklore, memories, recipes, and family stories.
His grandfather, Cyrus Hyde—known as Cy—was a legendary plant collector and storyteller. Patrick is carrying that legacy forward in his own way.
Before we entered the herb garden, Patrick picked a common plantain leaf growing in the lawn.
“Many of you have herbs growing right in your yard,” he said.
I was tickled pink. Here we were surrounded by thousands of unusual plants from around the world, and Patrick began with what most consider a weed that many people spend money trying to eliminate.
We’ve spoken about plantain before in the Benefits of Plantain & Dandelions. Both are desirable and edible plants—treasures that grow beneath our feet.
Patrick passed around horsetail stems and explained how the silica-rich plant was once used like sandpaper. We learned about lemon balm—don’t let it go to seed to keep it from overtaking your garden—and scented geraniums. We learned about jewelweed, used to treat poison ivy. And how they make rose petal jam. Peak oil production occurs in the morning, so the petals are harvested then.
The formal herb garden is filled with centuries of gardening history, medicinal plants, and stories waiting to be discovered.
The Calico Cat
One of my favorite moments came before the tour started.
A resident calico cat joined Patrick on the porch of the blue farmhouse. While the farm has been around for nearly sixty years and three generations, Patrick lightheartedly noted that the cat family has been there for far more generations.
I loved that thought.
Imagine being a cat living on a farm like Well-Sweep. Generation after generation observing gardeners arriving, falling in love with plants, carrying them home, and returning again and again.
The calico cat seemed entirely unimpressed by all of us. As cats often are.
Falling in Love with Lovage
Then we entered the formal herb garden.
The knot garden of boxwood and crimson barberry was beautiful, though I couldn’t help thinking about how our understanding of plants changes over time. When the garden was created, barberry wasn’t yet recognized as the invasive plant we now know it to be. Fortunately, it’s clipped so tightly that it rarely flowers or produces berries that birds adore, which is one reason the plant has spread so aggressively through our woodlands, crowding out native plants.
Around every corner, there was another story. Rosemary is a symbol of remembrance. Scented geraniums with yellow edges that Patrick’s grandfather developed. Purple perilla with its rich color. A basil collection propagated from cuttings rather than seed—a much better way to assure optimum plant health and flavor.
“Unlike many botanical gardens, visitors are encouraged to touch and taste,” Patrick said.
That invitation changes everything.
Plants become Personal
Lovage captured my heart during my visit to Well-Sweep Herb Farm. Sometimes beauty alone is reason enough to welcome a plant into the garden.
The airy umbels of lovage float above the foliage, adding both beauty and architectural interest to the garden.
And then I met a plant I may have encountered before but never truly noticed.
Lovage.
Standing nearly six feet tall, it towered over many of the surrounding herbs. The foliage resembles celery, which makes sense because they’re relatives. But lovage possesses a grandeur, rising high with an architectural form.
Patrick explained that his grandmother uses it in potato salad. Others use the hollow stems as drink straws in Bloody Marys. The leaves can flavor soups, potatoes, and broths.
A little goes a long way. Too much, apparently, becomes medicinal tasting. Yet what captivated me wasn’t its culinary use. It was its beauty.
The flower stalks rose high above the foliage, topped with chartreuse-yellow umbels that seemed to float in the air.
I bought three plants. Not because I needed more herbs. Certainly not because I needed more plants. Well, we can always use more plants…
But because I fell in love with them.
They’ll be planted in the newly renovated garden near my front boulder wall, where they’ll grow large enough to serve as shrubs.
You don’t always need a practical reason to add herbs or vegetables to your garden. Sometimes beauty is the reason.
Native Plants and Venus Flytraps
One surprise of the day was learning more about Venus flytraps and their fascinating history in the Pine Barrens.
The second lecture of the day was presented by David Hyde, owner of Well-Sweep, who spoke about native plants and nativars.
One surprise was learning that Venus flytraps are found in the boggy areas of the New Jersey Pine Barrens. However, they were introduced there and later naturalized. I later learned their only true native habitat is a small 75-mile radius spanning parts of North and South Carolina.
Fascinating plants with tiny green traps patiently waiting for insects.
Nature never runs out of ways to astonish us.
Marty’s Gift
But the real treasure of the day didn’t happen at Well-Sweep. It happened a few mornings later. I woke feeling sad. Truthfully, I woke angry. Anger is not an emotion that comes naturally to me. Yet there it was. A year filled with endings has a way of catching up with you.
My life partner leaving, Marty passing, and the closing of the Karen Ann Quinlan Home for Hospice, where volunteering soothed my soul.
Questions still unanswered. Loose ends still dangling.
That morning, I finally ripped up my old will. There was something about it that felt final.
The humidity was low. The sky was beautiful. And I was cranky.
Marty Carson gave me this Jethro Tull coreopsis years ago. This summer’s blooms became an unexpected reminder that love remains present long after someone is gone.
Then, while doing my stretches on the screen porch, something caught my eye. Near Ellie’s memorial tree, bright yellow flowers glowed in the morning light. At first, I thought they were daylilies handed down by a neighbor. But when I looked more closely, I realized they were the Jethro Tull coreopsis Marty Carson had given me years ago.
The plant had never really amounted to much where it was originally planted, so I moved it next to Ellie’s memorial tree. And there it was. Magnificent.
The award-winning variety, named Jethro Tull after the rock band and the 18th-century agricultural pioneer, has distinctive fluted golden petals that seem almost to curl into tiny trumpets.
But to me, it will always be Marty’s gift.
Flowers are a Reminder
Soon after I adopted Miss Ellie, whose name eventually morphed into Miss Ellie Mae after the character from The Beverly Hillbillies, Marty laughed and said, “You need another dog named Jethro. But since you’ll likely not adopt another dog now, I brought you this plant.” (On the television show, Jethro was Ellie’s brother.)
Standing there beside those flowers, I remembered that conversation.
I walked outside with my phone and crouched down beside the blooms. The stems were taller than I remembered. The flowers danced in the breeze. Sunlight filtered through the trees, causing them to sparkle.
A few days earlier, I’d asked Marty for a sign that she was okay. And there it was.
Not because Marty magically made a plant bloom. Well, maybe she did. But because love has a way of remaining present. The flowers became a reminder.
Of our friendship. Our laughter. Our shared love of gardens. Of all the ways people continue to shape us long after they’re gone.
I stood there and cried. “I love you, Marty. I miss you.”
Sometimes tears are exactly what the garden prescribes.
Garden Dilemmas? AskMaryStone@gmail.com or tune in on your favorite Podcast App.
If you’d like to learn more about Well-Sweep Herb Farm, here’s the link to their website: https://wellsweep.com.
Prefer to Listen?
This story is also a feature in this week’s episode of Garden Dilemmas, Delights & Discoveries, with additional reflections from the screen porch:
The Lesson Hidden in the Story
Later that day, Jolee lunged after a chipmunk during our walk. I snapped at her.
“You’re on a leash.”
While I came home from Well-Sweep with lovage, what I really brought back were reminders to slow down, pay attention, and enjoy the ride.
Immediately, I knew the problem wasn’t Jolee. The problem was me. I was tired. Tired of chasing. Tired of worrying. Tired of carrying things that don’t deserve so much of my attention.
It’s okay to have feelings of anger, frustration, or irritation. By processing and expressing them, we can bring them to completion. It’s part of healing, I now understand.
When I returned home from Well-Sweep, I wandered out to the vegetable garden. Jolee settled down behind a mound of cucumber seedlings that had sprouted from an outdated seed packet.
Somehow, that moment centered me.
Perhaps that’s the lesson hiding inside this haphazard story.
🌿 I went to Well-Sweep to admire the beautiful plants and the beautiful setting. I came home with lovage.
🌿 But what I really found were reminders that treasures often appear where we least expect them.
In an herb growing in the lawn that many call a weed.
In a trio of towering lovage plants, finding their way into my garden.
In a yellow flower gifted by a friend who is no longer here.
Or in my dear canine kid resting beside a mound of cucumbers.
It’s not about the chase. It’s about the lessons—the memories. The wisdom gathered along the way.
And learning to enjoy the ride.
Thank you for sharing the Garden of Life.🌻
Related Episodes & Links
Episode 217: Moth Surveying in a New Jersey Mountain Meadow
Episode 157: Benefits of Plantain & Dandelions
Episode 20: Unexpected Furry Messenger – Father John’s Memorial Garden
More about Well-Sweep Herb Farm: https://wellsweep.com
