Last fall, with my cookbook tour, I never pulled out the
basil plants that took over much of the garden, so their dead stalks still stand in a creepy post apocalyptic row.
Last I looked, it was, like, July, and then suddenly I notice the paper calendar that hangs in front of me all day long, and it's the end of August, and Labor Day is this weekend (and I've forgotten to ask for a few days off from work to extend the holiday, dirrr), and the sun is setting by 8:30 pm, and the
basil plants are looking like they're past ready to be made into pesto for the winter.