Taking the weekend frost advisory to heart,
I pulled the basil out of the garden Saturday night. If it frosted, I saw no sign of it in our backyard. Although one town over on the golf course it did.
I knew if I left the basil in, we'd have a frost and I'd lose it. I knew if I pulled the basil, it would not frost and no more fresh basil.
I'd rather have dried basil than no basil.
I have lost too many basil plants to frost.
The other herbs are fine, although their days are numbered. I will pull them the end of this week and dry them. The garden will look very empty. Tadmore the Toad will burrow into the ground to stay warm instead of rollicking in the forest of herbs, parsley bush and arched over chives. There is a sadness to the letting go of another growing season. For I know what yet lies ahead; the cold, bleak, grey dreariness of winter. I rejoice over all that has borne fruit (8 tomato vines that are heavy with tomatoes in various stages of ripening, and several herbs), yet the sadness still remains.
The flowers are spent and will die off or snuggle underground until the longer, warmer days of Spring when they will reappear and delight my winter weary soul.
There is a spiritual lesson in letting go and surrendering. Each autumn I learn the lesson all over again.