My mom is a superb gardener. So is my daughter. Me? I confess to having killed a rubber tree plant once. And many other varieties of green things many times over.
I bought this lovely herb planter. Walked it home in my arms from the farmer's market. Everything in it is still alive, except for the dill, which mysteriously shriveled overnight and has but one teeny leafy sprout left. I've used the basil and parsley. Admired the rosemary and marjoram and chives. And
Why do I keep buying plants when I fear they are doomed? Because I cook. I need fresh herbs. And I'm too lazy to keep running to the store. And I like the shape the plants make as they curl down from the pot.
I'm also thinking of planting some garlic--- even more so since I found this terrific quote, which was pungent enough to inspire a poem:
"Garlic is as good as ten mothers." (from this site, no source)
when you can plant
three or four squeaky
clean cloves of peeled
garlic between your back
molars and bite down, hard?
Who needs milk
when a steely press
will pulp a half-moon
it to a papery empty
Who needs love
when hours later
your breath will cleave
the world into those
who don't mind your
stink and those who do?
Yet, in the ladle of my belly
I grew you, bulbous;
sulfurous juices thick
inside your husk of skin,
til by your tender scapes, I seized you,
now a knotted rose. Ten times over
I will crush your enemies.
--- Sara Lewis Holmes (all rights reserved)
|Image courtesy of Fresh Off the Vine|
Poetry Friday is hosted today by David Elzey at fomagrams.