In case you were following along back there, the herb planter I bought in July is almost completely dead. There is some hope for the rosemary, but from what I can tell, rosemary would grow if you ripped it out of the soil and threw on the cold concrete floor of your fruit cellar.
My friend Aliza has graciously adopted the planter and is attempting to resuscitate the little leaflings, but neither of us is optimistic. Considering that all of this was originally just a way for me to have easy access to fresh basil, we’ve decided that Aliza, who (along with most of my other female friends) has pots of basil bursting all over the house, will allow me to come by for basil picking whenever necessary, as long as I promise not to kill any more plants.
I really tried to keep the thing alive. It was scary how quickly it pointed out my incompetence, by dying.
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