Gardening is hard. I think it's like caring for a child. Probably. We don't have children. We do have a rosemary plant. It was our Christmas tree, and I think it's now dying a slow, protracted, agonizing (Jill says), and I can only assume painful death. I don't know what else to do for the little guy. He has a new pot, plenty of sunlight, fertilized soil and what should be the right amount of water (not too much, he's a fickle Mediterranean shrubbery). And yet, it's still getting crunchy.
Jill censored a cancer kid joke here.
I don't know what else to do, besides watch what could have been a delicious source of herbs for years to come and the first implicit test of our parenting skills give up the ghost. At least we didn't kill a dog.
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