Hardly anything gives me a greater feeling of contentment than snipping fresh herbs from my own garden. I imagine that I’m beating the system whenever I can walk out my back door and grab a sprig of rosemary, a handful of parsley or a dozen leaves of basil without ever visiting a grocery store. Growing my own herbs infuses me with wholesome energy and it’s the closest I get to being an Earth child, although I do make my own granola on occasion.

Growing herbs is different than vegetable gardening. Herbs are far less fussy than vegetables. I learned this in California when I attempted to grow vegetables against the south-facing wall of our white adobe house, thus causing the garden to experience more radiant heat than the space shuttle upon atmospheric reentry. The vegetables immediately expired but the lone survivor was an herb, a fragrant curry plant that rewarded my neglect by tripling in size and exploding with cheerful yellow blossoms. That herb earned my respect.

Since then, I’ve grown herbs in pots and in flower beds, tucking them in wherever I could. They seem content to grow almost anywhere they’re planted, as long as they have enough sun. They tolerate poor soil and get by on hardly any water. They thrive where my other plants plead with me to be given away to someone who knows what they’re doing.

Now I’ve got herbs everywhere. I’ve got 10 rosemary, a dozen lavender, three oregano, five sage, a couple thyme, a massive comfrey plant, one basil and one parsley that dies in the winter but eagerly grows back in the spring. I’ve got a few tiny chamomile plants and a very unruly mint patch. I just planted coriander from a seed packet that my husband picked up at a plant sale. (I didn’t have the heart to tell him that coriander is cilantro, which he says he hates.)

In short, I’ve got fresh herbs aplenty whenever I want them, and the difference in flavor between fresh and dried herbs is extraordinary. Fresh herbs contain wonderfully pungent oils that fill your nose and tingle your tongue. They add a snappy something to everything you cook, from scrambled eggs (a little parsley, oregano or basil) to roast chicken (lots of rosemary, please) to dessert (a mint sprig on your ice cream). They make beautiful garnishes, pleasing the eyes, nose and tastebuds.

Since we’re into spring planting season, I thought I’d encourage you to plant your own herbs. Put them in a pot or in the ground, give them plenty of sun and don’t overwater them. They don’t like to have waterlogged roots, although I’ve coaxed some herbs to grow in the clay soil that besieges our region. If you’ve got a dry, gravelly area with good drainage, that’ll do just fine. If not, you can always mix a little sand into your soil. The real fun comes when you harvest them — there are so many ways to use them besides just tossing them in soups, stews or sauces. Make sure you gather herbs that have not been sprayed with fertilizers or pesticides, and that you wash them thoroughly before use. No one wants peppermint tea with subtle notes of Weed B-gon.

Here are a few things you can try:

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