Lucius Quinctius Cincinnatus walked up the dusty path that led to his villa to the shouts and applause of his neighbors. The spreading elm branches overhead resounded with their cheers and clapping.
“Hurrah for Cincinnatus!”
“He’s saved the republic again!”
“Well fought, Cincinnatus!”
“Three cheers for the Dictator!”
Cincinnatus stopped, held up his hands, and humbly addressed the men gathered beside the road. “My friends, I am your Dictator no longer. Now that I have defeated the Aequi I have laid down my title and wish only to return to my humble farm. I am no great man, only your neighbor and your fellow-citizen. I am, like all of you, just a lowly farmer again.”
“What a noble Roman!”
“Hurrah for Cincinnatus the humble!”
“He’s saved the republic twice over by such an act!”
Cincinnatus opened the broad wooden door to his culina and found his wife, Racilia, preparing a meal inside.
“Wife,” he declared, “I have come home from defeating the Aequi and have laid down my sword and my title. I am once again only a humble farmer!”
“I am glad to see you, husband,” she said, kissing him in welcome “And I’ve prepared a meal to celebrate your homecoming. It’s almost prepared, could you perhaps just fetch me some fresh basil to finish it off?”
“Ah, basil!” declared Cincinnatus. “The growing of such herbs, grains, and vegetables will be my only concern from now on. I planted some shortly before I left for the campaign. Would you like to come with me and see how it has fared?”
Cincinnatus and Racilia walked hand in hand to the patch of earth behind the culina. A large clay planter stood there, overflowing with weeds, but no basil.
“Hmmm…” said Cincinnatus. “Perhaps there was something wrong with the seeds that I bought.”
“What kind of soil did you use?”
“You know, soil. Dirt. The regular type.”
“But did you use dirt, dirt? Or a raised-bed mix?”
“I don’t know. It was whatever they were selling in the forum before I left. I just grabbed a couple bags of it. I used plenty, though.”
“Was it this bag here? Because this says it’s for ‘desert plants, cactuses, and palms.’ I’m not sure you can grow basil in this.”
“I still think there was something wrong with the seeds.” Cincinnatus grinned. “But I’m sure your cooking will be delicious even without the basil. Shall we eat soon?”
His wife shook her head. “I want to finish the dish with some kind of herb. I know! Let’s top it with some mint! There’s always mint growing along the western side of the house.”
“Well, there used to be. I mowed over the mint.”
“But I USE the mint.”
“Yes, but I was MOWING.”
“Well, do you have any other herbs planted somewhere on the property?”
Cincinnatus hung his head.
“I planted thyme and rosemary last year. And peppers and spinach and carrots. But none of it came up.”
“I thought you grew up on a farm! I thought you came from a farming family!”
“My cousins are all farmers, but the farmstead that I grew up on wasn’t a real farm. All we had were some chickens.”
“Well, are you going to get some chickens for our farm, then.”
“No, we’re never having chickens.”
“I don’t think you’re a very good farmer.”
“I’ll see if I can get my job back as Dictator.”
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