Menthe (mint), from the family Lamiaeacea (jaws)

Mint is a lovely, versatile garden plant that has rooted itself deeply into gardens worldwide— a distinct, vibrant personality setting it apart from its neighbors both subjectively and physically (being an isolated plant in garden beds). Its personality is so distinct that ancient Greeks had personified it in the form of a river nymph named Menthe, a name that shows up in records dating back even further than Classical Greek civilization (in linear B script). A startling amount can be said about the plant’s growth habits and characteristics through this character, and by going through her story, I hope I’ll provide an interesting take on growing the garden’s modern-day sweetheart at home.

She’s the infamous nymph of the Cocytus River. If you’re an absolute novice in major watercourses of mythological hells, this may not ring a bell… but you’ve seen it before. Phantom hands in the fog. Moaning faces trapped under the surface. The faint echo of wails scraping through the reeds and rocks. It’s the River of Lamentations, widely depicted in movies, books, and bedside stories. In Dante’s Inferno, it’s a frozen lake inhabited by individuals convicted of treachery against God, but in popular culture, it’s a river with an amalgamation of those filled with regret.

A lot of the time, nymphs are personifications of their dwellings. However, in the standardized version of the ancient Greek myth, Menthe is sweet and hospitable. Her kindness ostensibly draws the romantic attentions of the Lord of the Underworld, Hades, and the wrath of his wife Persephone. In this version of the story, Persephone finds out about Hades’ possible infidelity and turns Menthe into a weed for others to trample, and, in his grief, Hades gifts the plant its distinct fragrance to remind people of how sweet the nymph had been.

Of course, in some versions, Menthe is already Hades’ lover when Persephone arrives, taking the role of the jealous lover; in others, Demeter is the one who transforms her into a plant. Like most Greek myths, there are many different versions and interpretations of the narrative, but the main story points remain the same. Like the nymph, the mint lives by the lips of rivers and ponds, and true to its association with the Underworld and mourning, it played a role in ancient Greek funeral rites.

Originating along the edges of temperate water bodies in Europe, mint thrives off cool, wet soil and dreads the arid climates inland. The plant is abundant in moist environments, but like other common plants in temperate, wet climates, this plant is prone to several fungal and nematode diseases, which afflict both the roots and leaves. In most cases, the disease becomes apparent quite clearly— in the case of fungus infections, spots or rust will appear on the leaves, and in the case where the root is afflicted, the leaves will become deformed or decolored and start to drop off the plant, or the stem near the base will become soft and limp; in a lot of cases, you will notice the growth of the plant, which is usually fast and far-reaching, becomes stunted and slow.

Because the plant is so universal, though, it’s often easy to solve these problems as well. Most fungicides should deal with visible deformities; you can kill off the disease by spraying it with a light touch of diluted baking soda and dish soap and airing out the space. In the case of nematodes (which show themselves in yellow leaves and wilting), you may need to leave your pot out in the sun and let it dry out, letting the plants and the infestation perform what I like to call the Darwin challenge. If this isn’t preferable, some people might replace the soil or plant companion plants that repel nematodes, like marigolds and brassicas (broccoli, kale, cabbage, etc).

Despite the plant’s association with death, mint is well-loved plants in the garden and kitchen. When floral arrangements were used to convey specific messages (ie. During the prime of the Victorian language of flowers), mint symbolized virtue— presumably due to the antiquated belief that obnoxious smells signified moral depravity and illness. Mints also symbolized revitalization, wisdom, protection, and warm sentiment. In general, mint is a symbol of hospitality and suspicion.

Perhaps this is contradictory. But at the same time, this reputation makes perfect sense. Mint is globally adored and cultivated for flavoring (anything from teas, candies, syrups, curry, and liquors); its oils have been a universal staple of perfumes and cosmetics for its distinct fragrance, anti-inflammatory qualities (useful for cosmetics), and antibacterial properties (which also kills the sulfuric smell of bacterial waste). Not only this, but it serves as an antimicrobial detergent and insect repellent (for wasps, ants, and adult moths) or pest repellent (for squirrels). Its ability to repel unwanted residents while welcoming those we want to impress makes it an apt symbol of protection and hospitality.

Several people proclaim the repellent qualities of the mint online. For example, there are anecdotal recollections of how the mint kept squirrels and raccoons at bay. I cannot say I can verify this benefit, my own garden ravaged by squirrels and raccoons despite being bordered by potted mints, but with all the positive reviews online, it might still be worth a shot.

Health-related industries unanimously acclaim the rejuvenating qualities of the mint, thanks to its essential oils. Like the gotukola’s healing qualities are attributed to its saponins, the mint’s benefits are thought to come from its special compounds (volatile oils), called Terpenes (terps, by weed connoisseurs). These are often extracted as essential oils— menthol is the main oil from peppermint, and carvone is the champion of spearmint. These oils contain antioxidants, which are imperative to revitalizing the body (from skin to brain function[[ This can link back to the gotukola article, where it talks about antioxidants]]) as well as a good dose of vitamin A.

So, in other words, mints have oil glands on their skin, like you. Except, unlike you, their oils are coveted worldwide, and people often extract them by giving out steam baths (steam distillation). The mint is chopped into pieces, steamed, collected, and condensed into oil form. Usually, the pure essential oils sold in stores contain oils from other plants.

These oils are also antibiotic, antifungal, and antiviral. These benefits probably contribute to flu or cold recovery more than its purported over-the-counter purpose as a decongestant (a claim with anecdotal backing but no scientific evidence). Menthol (peppermint) is a muscle relaxant, and scientists often study it for its ability to combat irritable bowel syndrome and respiratory issues; as an antispasmodic aid, carvone (spearmint) reduces contractions and nausea caused by similar gastrointestinal or vaginal ailments. Both of these help the overall health of the individual. Hence, rejuvenating. As a bonus, carvone (spearmint) also balances androgen levels (hormones which cause excess hair) and sodium levels (acting like a calcium channel blocker and easing hypertension).

Along with this, mint purportedly increases brain function (unconfirmed) and alertness, which might explain its association with rejuvenation and wisdom. The scent of mint has been studied extensively for its ability to reduce stress and improve memory; whether this is true or not, mint has the quality of folk medicine amongst university students, who chew mints before and after cramming for exams to either enhance their memory or at least induce it to remember details through aromatic association. Outside of university, people often insert the various essential oils of mint (menthol being the most popular) into their homes as aromatherapy.

This plant does well with several plants, including asparagus, carrots, celery, cucumbers, onions, parsley, and peppers, improving the flavor of cabbage or tomato. In some cases, this is because of the terpenes, although the plant also repels pests and attracts pollinators.

With all these benefits (and some others), the positive reputation of the mint is apparent. It’s pleasant. It’s healthful. And perhaps we can brush off the mint’s association with suspicion to its alleged ability to enhance alertness, in just the way we can claim that the juxtaposition between the character Menthe and her environment might simply be a way to emphasize the tragedy of the River of Lamentations— nothing good comes out of being kind in an unforgiving environment.

On the other hand, a nefarious quality of the mint can also associate itself to the nymph in the myth— a quality with which many gardeners are already acquainted. And that quality is this: while the mint is warm and hospitable, helping out with the garden and the culinary scene, it also has difficulty following boundaries.

Mint crawls into beds she isn’t supposed to.

While mint seeds are often infertile and unsuccessful, they are still invasive, spreading prolifically through their roots or stolons, reaching into pots and beds above and below the ground. Their stems propagate prolifically as well; in fact, this is the preferred method of growing mints, since propagation provides an exact clone of its parent in flavor or fragrance.

Actually, mint seeds are often sterile because of their inbreeding with other varieties of mints. Scientifically speaking, this is because the plant develops with three sets of chromosomes when it is crossed over (instead of the usual two), and these cannot split during meiosis to produce normal gametes. In other words, like a plant-mule, cross-breeding makes it infertile

The plant’s proliferation is bad news both for gardens and for health. Often, people have allergies to mint oils that cause abdominal cramps, heartburn, diarrhea, and dermatitis, but this is rare— the real health problems related to mint come with overconsumption, which causes androgen imbalances, drowsiness, and liver/kidney issues; however, with the abundance of mint in any setting might encourage this kind of overconsumption in mint growers at home.

Because of Menthe’s dwelling place, there is an interesting interpretation of the proliferation of mint. Like the pain and sadness people bring to each other, mint is unavoidable. It’s dressed with a pretty face and a pleasant air, but if you don’t put up a strong barrier or guard between you and the people with whom you share your company, you often find yourself hopelessly entwined, getting hurt in the process.

However, the more obvious association lies in Menthe’s promiscuity. The plant was an aphrodisiac to the Romans, and its notorious difficulty to keep it in its pants forces the common warning among gardening enthusiasts to not only separate mints in pots but to keep the bottom covered with saucers. When Persephone turned Menthe into a plant, the story’s main interpretation suggested that Menthe was trying (or succeeding) in sliding into Hades’ pants as well. In the end, the plant is bisexual, able to self-fertilize and cross-fertilize, and mint is famous for hybridizing readily across its species and creating thousands upon thousands of variations of mint. I like to think this is Persephone’s subtle message to Menthe: “Go fuck yourself.”

And she does. Quite enthusiastically. The plant hybridizes readily with every sexual encounter. Some plant breeders have made a game of it, purposely hybridizing mint through cross-pollination (called varieties), and isolating genetic deviations (called cultivars)— because of this, there’s an almost unrecognizable roster of mints with fuzzy to shiny leaves spanning from 2 millimeters to 2 centimeters, with purple to green stems. All of these have the distinct family trademark, which is its square stem and opposite leaves.

The path down different mint varieties is a bit of a rabbit hole, but the three main varieties that get compared are spearmint (mentha spicata) and peppermint (mentha x piperita). Spearmint, due to its high level of carvone, has the same sweet taste as caraway or dill, with antimicrobial properties that can combat a disease that often plagues the peppermint, called verticillium wilt. Peppermint is known for its strong, fresh smell due to its high menthol content (40%, as opposed to the 0.05% in spearmint)— menthol activates cold-sensitive receptors on the skin and mucous membrane, giving off a cool sensation— but peppermint is a hybrid of spearmint and watermint (the x in mentha x piperita signifying its status as a hybrid); this means this plant is naturally sterile, though it can grow from seed if the plant is treated with a drug called colchicine to make the seeds fertile.

However, you can get a cultivar of spearmint that tastes exactly like strawberry, aptly named “strawberry mint” (still mentha spicata), or a cultivar of peppermint which smells like oranges, called “orange mint (mentha piperita “citrata,” not to be confused with mentha piperita “citrata,” or lemon mint), which is allegedly one of the secret ingredients of Chartreuse liqueur (a liquor made by a group of monks). You can also hybridize spearmint and peppermint to get the “Doublemint” or “Crisp mint,” a fresh mint with kale-like leaves. Or, if you cross-pollinate the orange cultivar of peppermint with peppermint, you get Chocolate mint (mentha x piperita f. citrata “chocolate”), which smells as good as it sounds.

Wild mint (mentha arvensis) is a standard, mild-scented mint that is often used in Chinese medicine for stomach issues (and to stimulate qi stagnated by the liver); a cultivar collected from this is also called Banana Mint (also mentha arvensis). Completely unrelated is a variety called Apple mint (mentha suaveolens), which is wooly with large, dramatic leaves and the distinct smell of apples. If you hybridize apple mint with peppermint, you get the Grapefruit mint (Mentha suaveolens x piperita), a cultivar of which is small, variegated, and aptly named the Pineapple mint (Mentha suaveolens x piperita “pineapple”).

Anyone who has been to a supermarket will tell you that the smell and appearance of these plants don’t fall into categories and shades the same mixing colors on a palette might create specific shades. Rather, the slight chemical differences in the plant’s oils remind us of different varieties of sweet scents due to our highly sophisticated sense of smell. These mints create layers and layers of surprises and unexpected turns by cobbling together an amalgamation of smells, which no one can fully explain yet.

The mint is a fun, frivolous plant that has a hint of danger in its allure. In the standardized version of the story of Menthe, Persephone tries to quash out Menthe’s personality, whether that be seductive, kind, or upsetting. However, just as Hades used the scent of the mint to bring the memory of Menthe’s sweetness to those who smelled it, you can tell the complex, unpredictable nature of the mint with a single whiff.