Parsley is a sleeper.
It may grow like gang busters, but not something I’d ever viewed as a main ingredient to, well, anything.
I was wrong.
A few days ago, last Friday to be exact, I made my way — read: a few stockinged-feet — to my apartment balcony to the place where my garden grows.
It is a veritable jungle out there, thirty-five square feet of sunflower, chive, rosemary, thyme, sage, mint, lavender, Frontenac grape-growing mania. Continue reading