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Growing herbs is a real chore

I am enjoying the roots of my labour this summer. This year I successfully grew basil, cilantro, dill, some other herb I can’t remember and something I suspect is a weed. (Bruce please check you have “is a weed” not “is weed” as it is not Oct.
Bruce_Campbell_2014
Bruce Campbell. Western Wheel editor

I am enjoying the roots of my labour this summer. This year I successfully grew basil, cilantro, dill, some other herb I can’t remember and something I suspect is a weed. (Bruce please check you have “is a weed” not “is weed” as it is not Oct. 17 yet.) The basil is glorious. Some nights I am putting up to two or three leaves on my tomatoes (store-bought tomatoes - hey, man, I am new at this). At night, I pull the basil from the roots, not cutting them as some suggest. I love the feel of dirt in my hands. The basil smell wafts through the kitchen, as I grab a much-deserved cool one, wipe my hands on my overalls, and go tell my neighbour over the fence of my chores. I make it sound like I’ve taken a child from nothing to entry into Harvard. “I raised ’em since they were just a seed,” I tell him, while I wipe my brow. “I remember, when they were just yay big, now they’re gone. Sure I miss them, but they are a lot of work.” The key to good basil is a good woman. I’m an overly middle-aged man with no attention span, basil growing got boring really quick. But every morning, before I go to work — regardless of how hot it was — I would say: ‘Honey can you water my plants, I’m looking for my keys.’” We were a perfect team, she would water the plants and then come in and find my keys. I am overwhelmed by our basil success and I plan to double the output next summer. I know we have the time — she can do the extra watering while I find my cellphone.  

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