Tuesday, April 25, 2017

Today I am grateful for seedlings.  And I hope I don’t kill them.  I think I was supposed to transplant them weeks ago because each bunch I pinched out of their little boxes was root-bound.  Oh well.


They’re still green, except for the purple basil, which is still purple, so I guess that counts for something.  I would make a lousy farmer though because I spent hours transplanting these herbs and was plenty “done” by the time I was done.  The skies helped and produced a gentle Spring rain that I stuck them under and let them slurp up all they wanted.  Good thing because I was sick of looking at them.


But I won’t be sick of them  when I’m throwing fresh basil and oregano on pizza, or when I’m chopping a little chive on top of the lite sour cream on a baked potato, or when I’m sniffing Lavender and getting all Zen-like.


I didn’t plant any Rosemary because I don’t much care for her.  And while sniffing Rosemary is supposed to produce a calm demeanor, I don’t trust it.  Besides, as we went on and on and on about at coffee one day at the Y, what if Rosemary doesn’t want to be sniffed?  She might arrest me.


Then I’d have to go find Basil and sniff him and that’s a whole nuther story.  Luckily I planted him. . .so to speak.

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