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In a garden of Nasturtiums it's always spring. In Melbourne, they can bloom all year round; an ever-present cascade of reds, yellows, and oranges. Their leaves look like rounded lily pads, worthy of being in a fairy tale. On a rainy day, you can imagine the garden bugs huddled underneath, using them like a tiny umbrella. And of course they are delicious. Nasturtium leaves have a distinct wasabi-watercress flavour. The flowers have milder notes of sugar and pepper, and the s

I just love flowers. I'll never pass by without stopping to enjoy them. Designed for pollinators, I wonder if bees also stop to appreciate their beauty? I like to think so. A moment of admiration as they hover above; deciding on the prettiest flower to settle on. Borage, Borago officinalis, is spectacular. A herb of blue stars, twinkling as they sway in the breeze. But Borage isn't just for admiring. It's also for eating. It tastes like cucumber with a hint of shellfish. The

Elderflowers whisk me away to an English summer. Elder trees humming with bees, blooming with little fluffy clouds, haunted by faerie folk. In Germanic folklore, guardian spirits dwelled in these trees, so when you gather their blossoms, you might be taking home something enchanted. Danish legend tells of a mystical sight on Midsummer’s Eve, a night where the veil between worlds wears thin. Stand beneath an elder tree, and you might see Elverkongen, the King of Fairyland, ri

Dandelions are so nostalgic. I have childhood memories of closing my eyes and whispering a wish before blowing a cloud of dandelion seeds spinning into the air. If I cleared the puffball in one breath, it was a sign my wish would be granted. During school recess, the flowers would be woven into crowns or gathered into a tiny posy. People consider them weeds, but why? Europeans brought dandelions intentionally to Australia in the early 1800s, not as a useless weed, but as a

If you’ve ever wandered near a creek and caught a whiff of onion, congratulations—you’ve met onion weed (also known as three cornered garlic, Allium triquetrum). It doesn’t hide, flaunting its dainty white flowers. Come spring, it lines creeks and rivers like a floral runner, as if setting the stage for a magical woodland ceremony; a secret runway for forest nymphs. While pretty, the onion stench excludes them from a bouquet. My parents wage constant war against the stuff in