Another One Bites the Dust

When Ashley moved into my apartment last June, she brought with her four basil plants. I was a bit skeptical because many plants had met their untimely death in my apartment. (Several, but not all of those stories have been recorded here on my blog.) But then I remembered that she's a farm girl and probably knows things I don't. It was true enough. For example: my previous plants had not gotten enough sunlight. My previous herbs had not gotten enough water. These seem like things I should have learned on Seasame Street, but somehow they had eluded me.

In September when Ashley decided flee the big city and return to her rural roots, she left the basil plants in my care. I figured all would be well--I would just keep up the same routine she had in place. For a while, I was doing pretty good. But now.... Well..... This is the end product: (please note, when I tried to save this photo on my computer so I could post it, I was told "The picture 'dead basil' already exists. Would you like to replace it?" How many different dead basil plants does one girl need save on her hard drive?)

In hindsight, I realize that I had been losing Ashley's basil plant at a steady rate of one per month. But the last remaining one had been doing so well! (Perhaps because Amelia had been in charge of his care for several days while I was out of town. He did look even perkier when I returned home.) He had gotten so big that by the time he died the whole thing could not be captured in my camera phone with enough details to also show that it had shriveled up and died.

The thing that surprises me is how quickly death came. One day it was fine, the next day it looked a little sick and the next day, it was gone. What did I do wrong? How did I fail my poor little basil? I even wrote and sang a song to Basil once I realized he was sick. Perhaps I didn't sing to him often enough. Or perhaps it was already too late. But even I was surprised at the emotion that sprang up as I sang: "You're going to live! Basil, you're going to live!! It's too soon, too soon to say goodbye." And then I would imagine Basil singing back to me: "Yes Holly, forbid me now to die! I'll obey! I will try..." But at the end, Basil, like Jean Valjean from whom I stole the song, died all the same.

So now I'm left trying to decide what to do. I NEED fresh basil for pasta sauces and my super yummy homemade salad dressing. But based on my past experience, if I bought fresh basil at the store and kept it in the fridge, it would last longer. I wonder if a chia pet herb garden would last longer. Maybe I should just plan on buying basil when I need it. That's what I do with cilantro, after all. But oh how I love the feeling of using an herb I grew myself! If my dreams of having a tomato plant cannot come to fruition, at least I should be able to cultivate an herb, right? What is up with my thumb of death? If I can't keep an herb alive how am I going to be able to take care of a husband? Or babies? I'm hoping these things do not require a similar skill set.