After his favorite hobbies of lounging in the sun, rolling in the over ripe cherries and lying in a dirt hole in any one of many corners, Winston's personal aroma is often fragrant, but not necessarily in a good way. This morning, however, a sweet scent of a mixed bag of notes followed him, and it piqued my interest. Ushering them outside, I wandered and let them do their thing until Marissa showed me the source: the old herb bed by the side gate where they like to watch for us to come home. Last year we planted a variety of herbs, but the shade from the cherry tree made it less than successful. So it's ironic that now when we try to change it over to something else, it's only the herbs that are growing. The orange mint and lemon balm just won't stop, and the remaining rosemary we left in there are all doing very well.