Graveyard Whistling

I’ve been on a lemon kick lately. Not that I’m sucking them down raw, or inhaling some lemonade while thoughtfully contemplating the universe. Look it was the one time, let’s not make a thing of it.

Actually I’ve been on the hunt for the perfect for me lemon cookie. I can honestly say I have no idea why I need a sweet sour cookie but I can tell you that I still haven’t found a recipe that is tart enough to make me happy. I’ve purchased more lemons than I’m willing to disclose at the moment, looking for the cookie that will bite me back and so far everything I’ve seen is too very tame to really put a pained smile on my face.

It isn’t just the cookie, it is lemon candles, or any sharp scents I can come across on the street. A friend stopped by for dinner a couple of weeks ago, thrilled to tears over the roses I have in the front yard, exclaiming how sweet they smelled, but either something is changing with my sense of smell or the sweet no longer appeals to me because I cannot tell you the last time I stuck my nose in a rose to get the scent. Lavender, citronella? I’m all over that. In fact, I picked up some lavender, citronella and basil the other day at the hardware/gardening center and my car smelled like heaven. If I hadn’t heard Bear yowling from the parking pad, I would have stayed put in the car just a little while longer.

And while I planted the lavender and citronella in the yard, I’ve dropped the basil in a pot to take indoors at the end of the year since last year’s didn’t make it.

I’m having working done to shore up the foundation of the house this week. and after introducing Bear to the crew, who gave him all the attention he is sure he deserves, I walked back out to find one of the guys smelling the basil, and we talked about the herbs growing around the house. The rosemary is starting to take over parts of the garden, so I invited them to take some with them. Meanwhile I need to make a plan to harvest and dry some of these this year so I can actually get some use out of the herbs instead of just pleasant smelling bushes. Which means harvesting the sage and thyme and using that for more than failed attempts to cleanse this cranky old building.

Although, I’m beginning to wonder if all this work I’m doing to this house is just me whistling while I’m walking past a graveyard. Ineffectively warding off the inevitable.