Rosemary, with its delicate fragrance and evergreen presence, was more than just a kitchen herb in Renaissance gardens—it was a symbol of remembrance and fidelity. Designers placed it in cloistered corners, where its needle‑like leaves whispered across marble terraces, reminding patrons of both devotion and the fleeting nature of life. In paintings, rosemary vines curling over arches became visual shorthand for spiritual constancy. So when you see a painting with a rosemary sprig, think of it as the curator’s way of tying the earthly plot to the divine narrative.

I plant rosemary like it’s a quiet sentry—deep, well‑drained soil, a bit of sand, and a sunny spot where the wind can stir its leaves. Space it a foot apart so the roots can breathe, and give it a single, tidy stake if it starts leaning. Trim the tips to keep the shape neat, but let the woody stems show off its natural, rugged elegance. That way the rosemary stays low‑maintenance, cools the soil, and still looks like a tiny, fragrant monument to the garden’s history.

Glad it clicks. Just remember, a little pruning keeps it sharp, but don’t go overboard—rosemary likes a bit of ruggedness. Happy gardening!

Glad you’re all set—now go make that rosemary as bold as the art it inspired. Happy planting!