City Harvest

Though the days have been warm, winter's coming. Last week in Vermont, we rose each morning to find frost's silvery fingers had brushed the grass and leaves, and left their calligraphy on the windows. But here in the city, there still hasn't been a hard freeze. Nevertheless, yesterday was the day for taking apart the terrace planters, re-potting ferns and ivies and begonias, bringing plants inside.

Much as I've mourned not having a vegetable garden anymore, we did grow a long planter full of herbs. I cut them yesterday, and now there's thyme and mint and verbena drying on paper, and a jar of pesto in the refrigerator.

When I finished picking over the basil and stripping the leaves from the stems, I lifted my fingers to my face. The few times I've bought perfume in my life, this is what I chose: not flowers, but the darker scents of herbs and barks and roots, of spices and earth; the scents of preservation.

Comments

[marja-leena]

I love the photo! We haven't had a frost yet, but I've also been bringing in plants over the past few weekends. The tomatoes in pots on our deck were finished a few weeks ago but the basil beneath was still good though overgrown and very pungent, leaving its scent all over me. Another season in progress. I look forward to finding some frost fractals on our skylights this winter, but they won't be as colourful as yours.

[dale]

Oh, Beth, I miss you.

[Szerelem]

What a lovely photo. As I was reading I could imagine the gorgeous smell of all those herbs, so I couldn't help but smile at your mention of the kinds of perfumes you like!

(I personally don't like floral scents either!)

[Kaycie]

I love the way my hands smell after I harvest herbs from my garden. My little guy helped me gather all of my green tomatoes from the vine yesterday evening because a cold front moved through. He commented on the smell left on his hands after picking green tomatoes. I'm so glad to know that he might remember that one day when picking tomatoes with his own children.