Yesterday was Mother's Day, so I planted a garden. No, that's not why, but it seemed like a good day for it. And, yes, I did call my mother, thanks for asking! (Hi, Mom!)
You'll want to know what I planted, I suppose. I'm an old fashioned girl, raised on Simon and Garfunkel, so you know what I planted.
Except for the rosemary. No need.
Rosemary doesn't mess around. It makes small, practical flowers. It puts out a powerful scent. It handles drought and water with equal aplomb. It's not invasive like mint or ivy - that would be, well, rude. But it's quite serious.
Actually, I wonder if maybe there's only one rosemary plant in this city. And the roots go way, way down.
Sure, take some sprigs as you walk by. No problem. The rosemary has plenty to spare. It's not afraid of you and your little fingers. It'll just make more.
I see rosemary, I nod respectfully.