Peppermint Will Survive the Zombie Apocalypse

Once upon a time, we cut down a plum tree in our yard. Termites had eaten it hollow and it would only bear withered, bitter fruit. Because we didn’t have stump removal equipment, I decided to plant peppermint around it to disguise the bit of stump.

Peppermint. In my yard. Not in a pot. Right smack in the middle of the yard.

I’ll pause while you all laugh.

Fast-forward about 15 years. This is my vegetable garden. Note the cucumber leaves waving a white flag of surrender as the peppermint executes a victorious siege. 

I spent a few years trying to contain it.

I’ll pause again while you all laugh.

Now I know better and I’ve acknowledged the dominance of my peppermint overlords.

I’m not much for herbal teas, but I do like peppermint, a lot. I’m fairly well addicted to Celestial Seasonings peppermint tea. I’ve tried Stash and Bigelow, but Celestial Seasonings tastes best to me. 

One summer I figured I’d save a few bucks and dry my own. I grow many herbs—in pots now, thank you very much—and dry them in my kitchen.

This is what I get when the peppermint has dried:

I put some in a tea ball and steeped it. Eh. The next time, I doubled the amount of leaves. Double eh. I brewed a bag of Celestial Seasonings. Yum!

I have no idea why my own peppermint tastes nothing like the peppermint used by Celestial Seasonings. The water? The soil? Even if the tree stump I planted it around isn’t the best place for it, it’s spread into my vegetable garden which gets fertilizer and peat moss and all kinds of good treatment to make things grow. 

So I’ve given it up and spend money on Celestial Seasonings again. Because fresh peppermint is good for two things: Tabbouleh and mimosas.

I can live with that.