Well, not the Devil, but My Dearest O. I had absolutely no intention of buying any seedlings or potted plants at the Farmers' Market on Saturday and was doing an admirable job of walking past them without so much as a sideways glance (just as I had done the weekend before) when My Dearest O shouted, "Oooh, lookee! Pretty!" or something like that, jumping up and down whilst pointing at a trailing Rosemary plant.
And he was right; it is. And now it hangs right beside the back door, waiting for the weather to consistently stay above freezing before I'll hang it on a Shepherd's Hook somewhere in the yard.
And because ya'll have been so patient with me, here's a bonus photo of the itsy-bitsy teeny-tiny French Rosemary plant that I started from seed:
(Not to scale.)
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