Herbs are the quiet aristocrats of the garden. They do not shout, yet they hold the border together with scent, structure and usefulness. In a historic walled garden – brick warmed by sun, bees stitching the air, lavender soft against stone – herbs are never an afterthought. They are structure. They are intent. They are atmosphere.
A well-planted herb border borrows that same clarity. It is not simply about growing parsley for supper; it is about rhythm, repetition and restraint. Think form first, flowers second, how foliage reads from a distance, how scent catches as you brush past, how planting holds its shape in February as well as June.
