The rosemary is dry!
I waited three weeks for the bundles to dry. Opening the paper bags was like Christmas– coal or candy? Surprise! No mold, no spider webs– just a messy harvest, the potent smell (I had to eat a cough drop after inhaling rosemary dust), and a consequent desire for rosemary-seasoned lamb. Roasted on a spit in the backyard. Old-school.
I was able to fill an entire jar (eventually), though I found rosemary bits under the bread machine this morning. Maybe the stemming was broom-worthy because I was talking on the phone and Google-mapping my next day’s run?
Do you ever wish time would jump forward 2 hours because you’re so so so tired but 8:30 is too early to go to bed? And then your dad calls and gives you homework? And then you realize you put bread in the machine and it won’t be done until a long time from right now? And then your husband shows you a video of a cardboard bike?
Yeah, me neither.
I just want to be like these cats at the Nashville Zoo. Sleeping awkwardly in trees.