07/26 Saturday 73-87F Sunny
As if overnight, my basils get old.
In the past several weeks, they have grown crazy in my little vegetable bed—they looked different almost every day. I love basil; to me, summer will be too long and too dull to bear if there’s no basil. Since the basils grow so well and large, they become my main green leafy vegetable source for every day’s dinner: Pesto, of course; risotto, soup noodles, salad, braise… Lucky that basil is so useful and versatile which allows it to play various roles in a lot of dishes.
In fact, basil isn’t that popular in China. To most Chinese, perhaps they even don’t know what basil is. But as always, there are exceptions: In my hometown, the south of Henan province, basil no doubt is the favorite among all summer vegetables. Starting from May till October, on the streets, in the markets, you can find basil everywhere. And if by chance you pass the window of someone’s kitchen while the meal is being prepared, this herb’s special aroma will overwhelmingly penetrate your nostrils. It can appear in breakfast as pickle (brined in brown vinegar, salt, pepper, and sesame oil); in lunch it is mixed in either stir-fries, or soup; while for dinner, it is the absolute star as people in my hometown enjoy simple soup noodles with basil—they can have the exact same dinner every day and never get tired of it!
We call basil “Jin-jin” in my hometown dialect; its formal Chinese name is “Jing-jie”(荆芥). When I did some research online and found out that actually Jing-jie and basil were different cultivars. Jing-jie is a sort of Nepeta, while the one “Jin-jin” that grows in my hometown belongs to basil family, and its scientific name is “Ocimum basilicum var. pilosum”(疏柔毛罗勒).
I am not surprised by this discovery. When I lived in Shanghai more than ten years ago, there was a lady running a small grocery shop in the French Concession area. The Westerners used to call her “Avocado Lady”. Why? Because you could find fresh avocados only in her shop. To me, there was another big bonus—she sold basils as well. At that time, I had never found “Jin-jin” in any market in Shanghai; but when the first time I went to Avocado Lady’s shop, I immediately recognized that the big bunch of green herbs was very much like “Jin-jin”. I put it close to my nose and took a deep breath, and even nipped one leaf to taste, Yes, it was “Jin-jin”, or at least very similar! Thrilled, I asked the “Avocado Lady” what its name was. She gave it a glance, “Basil!” She simply answered.
Ah, basil! Since then, I went to the “Avocado Lady” shop more often merely for basil. And when my mother asked me whether I missed “Jin-jin” or not in Shanghai, I proudly told her that I had found “Jin-Jin”’s cousin, or a substitute for it.
Three years ago when I moved to this place where I could grow a garden of my own, basil was at the top of my planting list. No basil, no appetite in summer. My tongue and stomach have been trained, or spoiled, by this herb. It is said that what we used to eat when we were little would build a kind of special bacteria in our body; no matter how far and how long we will go, those imprinted tastes will be carried lifelong. They are our “comfort food”. Therefore, consuming a large basil plant every day isn’t an issue at all to me.
But all of a sudden, after one or two colder (still above 70F) nights, my basils start to turn yellow. Yes, they have been flowering and seeding for a while; based on my consuming speed—one basil a day, it will take me about one month to finish them all. Obviously they have no patience to wait for me, or their lifespan is shorter than I thought. Once they show yellow color, most likely it’s a sign that they are not that tasty anymore—because if I check the underneath of the leaf, I can find some kind of mildew which has already set in.
The mildewed leaves don’t taste good. Even if I wash it off, the leaves still taste moldy. Well, though it’s just end of July, it seems like I have to bid farewell to the first batch of my basils. While to the second batch which I planted a few weeks later, so far they look fine. But if the weather keeps raining and being hot and the nights are getting colder, how long can these basils last?
My binge of basil more or less is at its end.
Though the basils aren’t happy, the weeds and grasses are growing at their fastest speed. If the lawn was just mowed as flat as velvet, next day I can see that it has already become ruffled. Several days later, the neighbor’s proud, majestic white cat has to pass my grassy lawn with difficulty like a man walking in the knee-high flood.
Now, again, I am sitting on the porch. Last evening we had a thunderstorm which allows me to skip my morning routine of watering my vegetables. Nevertheless, browsing the view, I do think that my grass is greener than my neighbors’, which is just oppose to that well-known saying (“the grass is greener on the other side”) 🤣.
And I believe it also grows faster. We mowed the lawn at almost the same time as our north side neighbor; but this morning his still looks neat and flat, while ours is like it hasn’t been cut for weeks. Being greener and growing faster, should I be happy or not?
Someone told me last week that gardening generally is for retired people to pass time. I disagree. He said so because he didn’t understand and probably his hands had never touched the soil. He felt that I shouldn’t have given up my career and just be happy as a home gardener. While to me, life, career, gardening, they are all connected. I sow the seed, tend it, watch it sprout, grow, flower, and fruit. It’s just life. Sometimes on the journey, I would like to take a break to smell the flowers, to listen to the wind, to find out what means the most important to me. That’s how I define MY happiness. I sowed the seed, it’s not the time yet for it to sprout. I have patience (until I don’t have 😅).
One thing for certain is: Every morning when I open my window, I smell the fragrance coming from my flowers. It is a mingled scent; if at that time a breeze rises which splits the scent, I can distinguish its secret formula: It starts with abelia, then is followed by honeysuckle; at the end, I can detect a subtle Russian sage’s flowering aroma.
That joyous moment is my definition of happiness.