thyme

day106.jpg

A tangled branch of thyme from in front of the house waits in the kitchen, almost forgotten. Still smells, and tastes, of the outdoors. I love the intense piney burst behind my teeth, especially when I might have given up and thrown it away.

When I was little, we would pick the thyme that grew at the base of the stone seat near my grandparents' house and twist it into bracelets.

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