The last of the evergreens

A month ago I bought two gorgeous rosemary bushes as a fragrant, green Solstice decoration. I hoped they would see us through the winter and we could plant them in the herb patch in the spring. I used them to flavour all the soups we have been enjoying since the festivities ended: red pepper and white bean, roasted tomato, chickpea and lamb and many others. I snipped a sprig or two and placed them on roasting chicken and lamb and chopped a little to throw on escalopes and roast potatoes. Every time I passed the bushes I gently squeezed them to release the aroma.


Then, as the weather grew more frigid and we spent more time in the kitchen cooking, I noticed they were starting to dry out. I watered them and moved them away from the cooktop and oven but it was too late. The rosemary had become a desiccated skeleton, only the heady Mediterranean scent left behind. I still used the crushed rosemary to sprinkle into stews but touching the bush even a little caused it to shower its needle-like leaves across the countertop.


Last week I gave in and harvested the remainder, pouring it into a glass jar, capturing the essence of the plant for a little while longer.
Now if only I could do something about my poor dehydrated skin.