Back in the spring, Jack and I cleaned out what was once our tulip bed and planted a nice selection of herbs for our summer kitchen. We had high hopes for the basil, thyme, and tarragon, but a combination of bad rain timing and the early arrival of Japanese beetles dashed our hopes for piles of pesto and tidy bottles of herb-infused oils and vinegars waiting to bring joy to our friends and neighbors during the holidays.
The only thing that seemed to care about surviving the beetles and competing with the weeds was a lone Pineapple Sage plant. We've never grown it before, and I purchased the one plant after reading a facebook post from P. Allen Smith about how pretty it is as late-season bloomer with the added benefit of providing sustenance to migrating hummingbirds on their way south for the winter.
Over the course of the summer, it has grown with gusto, becoming tall and fountain-shaped as the weeks have progressed.
When it showed no signs of blooming by Labor Day, I began to think that despite strong stems and healthy foliage, conditions in our yard weren't what the plant needs to produce blooms, but I was wrong.
Interestingly enough, as soon as we moved past the Autumn Equinox a couple of weeks ago, the tips of each branch began to quickly produce bloom buds and within days, they began to pop open into a spectacular display of indescribable scarlet.
The leaves, when crushed between your fingers, do emit a delicate pineapple aroma, and the flowers are tender and slightly sweet. I haven't fully researched possible culinary uses for Pineapple Sage, but I will be. Tea is definitely on the list, but who knows what else?
After this year, Pineapple Sage is going at the top of the list for our spring greenhouse trip.
