I am filled with regret. Not the amount of regret you might have from getting drunk and waking up with a face tattoo. Not quite that much. But still more than the amount of regret you'd have from eating Doritos at bedtime and forgetting to brush your teeth afterwards. Have you ever woken up in the morning with all-night Dorito breath? Regrettable.
Today my regret is somewhere in the middle there, and it has to do with not growing enough basil this year.
In years past basil has been my one little crop with big dreams and even bigger accomplishments. It's never failed me. I've always enjoyed piles of the fragrant stuff for months and months, all between Easter and Halloween, with seemingly no end in sight and with enough to share generously without ever worrying I'd run out. I ate every variation of pasta with basil. Fruit with basil. I made basil smoothies (amateurs might call it pesto) and put basil in my coffee (not really). My friend Tracy even brought her daughter Lauren and Lauren's friend out to the farm last summer to record a song all about basil (it was to the tune of a great Whitney Houston ballad).
Basil was my jam, you guys. Oooh... wait, basil jelly, is that a thing?
This year? Not so much. I anticipated it. I ordered from catalogs and saved from last year's bounty and planted seeds. I saw sprouts. And I gave thanks, celebrating the beginnings. But somewhere along the way the basil just didn't happen, and I have been so busy doing other gardenish things that I didn't stop to try again.
So as I type this, another bizarre Oklahoma monsoon in July* is probably drowning the only basil I still have, which is one Genovese plant from seed and one small boxwood plant from Walmart, divided in two. Not much, folks. Not much at all.
It makes me sad, because I always thought basil and I had a special bond. An herbal connection that no rainstorm and no aggressive morning-glory vine could destroy. Where did I go wrong? I loved you, basil. I thought you loved me, too.
On the bright side, of course, the sage and parsley are thriving like nobody's business. So that's awesome. And since this year I have finally figured how to slim down, getting closer and closer to the jeans size I want to wear, I eat less pasta than ever. So perhaps I need less basil than I think. The sage is more versatile with my high-protein diet anyway, so I will just roll with it.
Nice knowing ya, basil. I will keep our memories. Maybe next year we'll try again.
Oh, my friend, it's not what they take away from you that counts.
It's what you do with what you have left.
*For the record I am NOT complaining about the cold and the monsoon here in Oklahoma. It is all pretty wonderful. Our pond is up to the banks for the first time in years. The fields are lush. The animals are healthy and happy. But you have to admit, it is bizarre. And apparently not ideal growing conditions for basil.
Lessons learned, dreams fulfilled, adventures shared
~Marie at the Lazy W
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