Curses, Blesses and Introspective Blogging

Once upon a time in the blogosphere, I cursed the name of my "friend" Lynn-Lady and her basil cutting. She's a rooter and nurturer by birth and I'm so proud of her for going back to school and tackling a profession in medical assistance. When I first met Lynn-Lady eight or nine years ago, in her first conversation with me, she said she always wanted to be a medical assistant, but she was in human relations. Now she's taken the steps to fulfil her dream and I couldn't be more proud of her. Yea School! Go Team!

Ok, so back to the previous post in which I understand lauded her more than chastised her, but I did call her tonight to let her know I wasn't talking to her anymore. She's turned me into a basil monster; hence the basis for this post.

This is a long and convoluted track (could you guess?), full of introspection, so please humor me.

Yesterday, I harvested a ton of basil, largely comprised of cuttings from Lynn-Lady's transplant.
I put the basil along with the jalapenos I picked yesterday and the sweet potato "fingers" that I wouldn't cook regardless in individual containers in our mail room at school and sent out a memo to the faculty that they were available. By the end of first period I got this:

Now, remember, last week I out a basket of jalapenos out in the mail room and all got taken as well and I was just as giddy, but it wasn't until this week that I remembered the transplant emotions that I had when putting the tomato transplants in the mail room last spring. This experience wasn't much different except for that I felt what was much akin to pride in having everything gone and getting the "when will there be more" e-mails than I did the last time. The end result is the same, but why do I have such different emotions? Could it be that I was so thrilled with myself for growing the tomato transplants to begin with that I had additional emotions steeped within it? Who knows, but I did manage to barter a trade for more basil in return for fantastic pesto, something I've never managed to make, myself.

I don't know if I've processed it enough to understand it, but I'm just thrilled that I found empty baskets. I'm so excited that the harvests I won't use will come to someone else's table. Maybe that's it. I would have eventually found uses for the transplants and they wouldn't have been wasted, but this time around, the food most certainly would have been, so I'm more grateful which I understand I should have been all along with the transplants.

You never get too old to learn lessons, I suppose...no matter if you can thread a needle without the use of pliers, a spotlight and a magnifying glass.

The morning comes early. Sweet garden-sharing dreams.