Washing basil is an odd indulgence of mine. But I love the scented echos of the rubbed herb on my hands -- a peppery kick wafting just ahead of an aroma warm and sweet.
I biked to the store a couple of nights ago to buy this young pot of basil. I held it close to my chest (and nose) riding home, afraid that its lithe stems might yield to the wind. Tonight the leaves could dot this incredible one-pan pasta, tomorrow maybe they'll be smushed between goat cheese and tomato relish on toast ... and every so often I might pinch off a leaf to rub against my wrists.
(This is the first vignette in an ongoing series trying to capture beauty in the otherwise ordinary, and little moments that make my heart go "oomph!!")