April 13, 2005



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.

Posted by EGP at April 13, 2005 10:04 PM