I went to the garden with my basket to pick tulsi. Holy basil. The whole garden was wrapped in her fragrance; the bees worked the flowers with the buzz of happiness.
I was not happy. I was stretched and irritable. The sun was a glare of heat, the air thick and still.
I knelt on the ground and plucked stem after stem, breathing deep that cosmic medicine. My basket began to fill. The bees ignored my unhappiness. They have eyes only for flowers.
Once my basket was full I went back inside, filled the dehydrator, then made a half gallon of tulsi tea, sweetened with a big scoop of honey.
That’s 2 million and 32 thousand flowers. Plus tulsi. And suddenly I was humbled, and happy.