Reconnecting with rosemary
Jul. 28th, 2011 12:07 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
neverspentIt's been an insanely busy month for me, with barely time to think let alone rest or do anything superfluous to requirements, but on Monday I needed a sprig of rosemary for a recipe. Somehow, most of my balcony plants are still alive despite being a bit neglected, so I went out with a knife to harvest.
It was dusk, on the verge of dark, but I could see the pots and the plants all right. There were trailing, leggy, tough stalks of grass growing from the rosemary pots, probably sprouted from pieces of birdseed scattered a couple of months ago. I found myself weeding until I could see the rosemary the way it really was, then searching with my fingers and eyes to find just the right places to prune. It was so satisfying. Going inside with dirt under my fingernails and fragrant sprigs cupped against my shirt, I felt cleaner and more relaxed. I hadn't even known I was missing my plants, but I was. I wonder if they miss me.
It was dusk, on the verge of dark, but I could see the pots and the plants all right. There were trailing, leggy, tough stalks of grass growing from the rosemary pots, probably sprouted from pieces of birdseed scattered a couple of months ago. I found myself weeding until I could see the rosemary the way it really was, then searching with my fingers and eyes to find just the right places to prune. It was so satisfying. Going inside with dirt under my fingernails and fragrant sprigs cupped against my shirt, I felt cleaner and more relaxed. I hadn't even known I was missing my plants, but I was. I wonder if they miss me.