This year I got sucked into buying one of those rosemary bushes trimmed into a Christmas-tree sort of shape. They are such cute little topiaries. And they smell wonderful. And I had dreams of planting the rosemary in the garden come spring. But it is not even the solstice yet, and already the rosemary is pretty much dead. The poor wee tree has been replaced by paperwhite narcissus. Here is the rosemary tree in all its glory (weeks ago):
I get the feeling that the rosemary doesn't like living in a house, nor being pruned into an unnatural shape. Poor thing!