That's not corny at all, ib. Last year my grandfather passed away and I had to make an emergency trip to Puerto Rico to the old family home where he was born and my grandparents had spent their entire married lives. Both gardened extensively on the roof of this house, it used to be so beautiful, and orchids were but one of the dozens and dozens of plants my grandmother grew. When I went out there workers had thrown all the plants over the back balcony to the street level (original level of this 400yo+ home) (man, I get choked up just thinking about it...fuck), and so my sons, cousins and I went down and rescued as much as we could, including many fingers of her orchids. My mother has the orchids at her place in SoCal now.
I brought home some of her herbs, two different kinds of oregano, one she calls witch's oregano with big, fat, thick leaves that are all covered with fuzz and are oregano on steroids, and the other had tiny leaves and was very fragrant. I couldn't get the witch's oregano to root, all cuts died. I did get the tiny-leaved oregano to root and it was growing beautifully on the back deck. Then we had a hard freeze and I lost it.
So many of my early memories are tied to my grandmother's cooking, being sent out to clip something from one pot of herbs or another and then tasting the wonderfulness that came from her amazing touch. I cried when I realized the one oregano had died, completely, and now there is no chance whatsoever of getting any more, ever again.
I TOTALLY understand where you're coming from.
