Basil on the windowsill

We have a basil plant on our windowsill. We were plant-sitting it for my Auntie Beth last winter while she and (don't call me Uncle) Bob found refuge down in Florida.

We used it a bit until summer, then turned our attention to our garden basil, now just dead sticks in the cold ground.

Auntie Beth's basil plant, however, has plugged along, and this week we were rewarded with basil flowers.

So as 2016 draws to a close, and as events close to home seemingly mirror the greater (in scope but not in depth) events that plague our larger culture, I look upon the miracles around us.

There are Brussels sprouts in the garden and clams in the bay. We had both last night, the living sustaining the living, every being alive today a happy accident at the individual level, but all part of something bigger, of life, which, I pray, is inevitable, even if, I fear, humans are not.

(I will attempt to pollinate the basil today--should I get any seeds, I will plan them in spring.)