Two Saturdays ago I got excited. It was finally nice outside. The winter chill had worked its way out of the air and the sun was shining it's heart out. I even got off work early. I was pumped. It was one of those "make a list longer than my arm and be thrilled when I crossed each thing off." days. I swept. I mopped. I vacuumed. I cleaned and santized. I scrub toilets, sinks, and tubs. I organized my closet. I swapped out spring pillows and throws. I drug every single flower pot out of my shed. Lo and behold in one of my pots there was a little somethin growing. I was thrilled. That Little Plant was determined to grow in near pitch black. That precious Little Plant. I brought Little Plant up to the porch. It basked in the sun. Loved a little rain. Then the unthinkable happened. We, lets be honest, this is central Illinois, it's not really unthinkable, it's really just undesirable. It dropped 40 degrees over the course of 8 hours. I hauled Little Plant inside. Zac and I were hanging out the other night and he asked me what Little Plant was. I told him I though it was chives coming back up since it is growing in my herb pot. He told me he thought all herbs needed to be re-planted yearly because they lose their flavor/potency if you don't. I told him I didn't know, but I didn't think that was true because rosemary isn't like that. Then I told him to break off a couple and see if it still smelled intense. He did. Then he broke off another. Then he told me "honey, this is just grass." DANG! I was pumped about the chives. Duped again by a case of mistaken identity. And to think, I babied Little Plant cause I was so proud of it. I'm an idiot.
11 hours ago