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“The white picket trellis was covered in climbing vines, and the soft, brown weedless soil was covered with winter squash peeking out from underneath velvety dark-green leaves. The island breeze carried the scent of Gran's rosemary plants. I went into the potting shed, grabbed the scissors, and snipped a bunch of rosemary. I could use it in the butter for the mashed potatoes that would be served with the fried chicken. I looked around at her herbs and listened to the tinkle of the wind chimes' sand dollars. I snipped some parsley and thyme. Those herbs would add depth or brightness to any dish. I also plucked a half-dozen bright-yellow lemons to add to the fish dishes.” — Victoria Benton Frank
The white picket trellis was covered in climbing vines, and the soft, brown weedless soil was covered with winter squash peeking out from underneath velvety dark-green leaves. The island breeze carried the scent of Gran's rosemary plants. I went into the potting shed, grabbed the scissors, and snipped a bunch of rosemary. I could use it in the butter for the mashed potatoes that would be served with the fried chicken. I looked around at her herbs and listened to the tinkle of the wind chimes' sand dollars. I snipped some parsley and thyme. Those herbs would add depth or brightness to any dish. I also plucked a half-dozen bright-yellow lemons to add to the fish dishes.