Posts Tagged ‘lavender’

Lavender is one of my favorite flowers and when my s-i-l lived in Provence, all the markets had lavender for sale at ridiculously low prices. On the day we visited an area where lavender was grown, although it had already been harvested, I gleaned leavings from the ends of the fields, somehow managing to get them back home unscathed despite being in my checked bag. The scent still hung over the field and lasted for years in a decorative bag in my cedar chest.

So when we moved to Arizona, I was sure I could grow lavender in the yard, only to fail miserably. During a visit to a lavender farm in Pine, Arizona, I questioned the owner who told me I should look for Spanish lavender, not French or English which wouldn’t grow in our location. I now have several thriving plants, even though they aren’t the high French plants you see in photos. This lavender however flourishes in Redondo Beach, making my walk a scent-sible one. 🙂

The air was fragrant with a thousand trodden aromatic herbs, with fields of lavender, and with the brightest roses blushing in tufts all over the meadows… William C. Bryant

Cee’s FOTD (aka Flower of the Day) 4.29.22

Just out of curiosity, is anyone else getting lots and lots of spam in their spam folder? It’s been nonstop!

One Word Sunday: diagonal

One Word Sunday: poetic

© janet m. webb

The sense of smell can be a blessing or a curse, depending on what you scent.  The “aroma” of a skunk is pervasively terrible, especially if it’s on your dog!  The perfume section of a large department store assaults the senses as does the perfume on too many women.  Perfume should be subtle and attractive, rather than knocking you down from six feet.

I love the smell of napalm in the morning.
~Kilgore, Apocalypse Now

However, the world is filled with delightful smells.  When our girls were small, we stayed for several days in Nags Head, North Carolina in a small motel where our corner room was perfumed with the scent of jasmine from a large bush outside the door.  It was heavenly, the first time I’d ever smelled jasmine.

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© janet m. webb

Lavender is usually associated with Provence and the south of France.  But it thrives in the Franche-Comté as well, beloved by bees and butterflies as well as humans.  This shot may be a close-up rather than a true macro, but I send it to you from France with love for Sally’s challenge.  Thank goodness for an iPhone that will go anywhere with me!

copyright janet m. webb 2016

Lavender’s blue, dilly, dilly, lavender’s green
When I am king, dilly, dilly, You shall be queen
Who told you so, dilly, dilly, who told you so?
‘Twas my own heart, dilly, dilly, that told me so

If you’ve ever been in Provence when the lavender’s in season, or even after it’s been harvested, you’ll know how strong the aroma is. Tuck a packet of lavender in your clothes and they’ll carry a faint, delicious scent of lavender. When my s-i-l moved to another part of France, she planted these plants. The bees in NE France are thrilled.

© janet m. webb 2014

Links to more entries can be found here.

My five days of story telling are at an end, at least for the purposes of this challenge.  I hope you’ve enjoyed the stories as well as the photos and, as always, thanks for taking the time to read and, often, comment.  Today I’m nominating any of you who would like to participate.  Remember the rules:  Write a story each day for five days, based on one of your photos, and nominate someone else each day.  Of course, there are no enforcers here, at least not that I’ve seen, so you may participate in whichever way you choose.  Above all, have fun and, whether or not you participate, have a marvelous weekend.

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Calgon, take me away.

For me, it’s lavender.

The scent takes me back to the fields in which we lay
after our lunch of pate and wine,
hidden from the road,
scented with love.
My fingers run through your dark hair,
yours caress my lips.
You murmur French nothings into my ear.
I purr with pleasure.

I inhale again deeply,
take another sip of wine,
channel my inner author,
and continue writing.