When we moved here, about five years ago, I carefully transplanted some rosemary from our old garden to a pot. Each Spring it went outside, and each Fall it came back in. It seasoned many meals.
But, when we went away for four days last week, I neglected to provide for its care in our absence and returned to find it had shuffled off the mortal coil.
The trip was well worth it, if only because it was the first time my wife and I had traveled alone since the kids came along. I will, however, miss my fragrant friend.
Funeral services will held Saturday, when, after a gentle soak in water, the remains will be gently placed on a bed of coals in my grill’s firebox – to season, for one last time, a picnic shoulder.
Flowers are gratefully declined.
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