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Showing posts from 2009

A wonderful aroma

I often knew when the request was coming. It was when my mother started making her gravy (pasta sauce to those of you who are not Italian). She would ask me to run to the garden and pick some basil for her. The basil was planted next to the parsley, and I could never tell the difference between the two. So, I always had to ask the question, “is it the one that smells?” That was how I could tell the difference between the two herbs. The basil had a strong aroma, and if I poked my nose close to it, I could tell which one to pick. Looking back, I remember how I hated going back to the garden to pick the basil. I had to fight off the grasshoppers and bees that came way too close to me, and caused me to move about in spastic motions just to avoid a dangerous encounter. It was a cautious walk to the garden, and a mad dash out of there. Sometimes I would not pick enough and my mom would send me back to gather more. Anxiety!

Today, I grow my own basil, and the smell brings me back and fills me…