It’s been a long day, week, month, year for me, and perhaps for you as well. Words whirl within me, yet, recently, it’s been difficult to transcribe them onto the page. Due to this and due to the brevity of time I’ve had, today’s post will be shorter. Yet, I hope, still of value.
Inspired by Sarah Clarkson’s post “I Shall,” I decided to indulge in my romantic tendencies and paint a word picture for you. An ideal scene. A scene of tranquility, of rest, of a time/place my soul longs for and, one day, I hope, will find.
Lavender. The sweet scent revels around the crisp, white sheets, fluttering in the evening sun. Like duchesses, the flowers reign over the garden, filling the air with their fragrant breath and purple folds. Smiling, I leave the ivory sheets and follow the stony path, wading deeper into the garden.
Wind, my dearest friend, passes by, eliciting shy whispers from the surrounding trees. He lifts the hair from my face, brushing my cheeks with a smile, lightening my heart, and quickening my feet. I stride forward, enveloped in nature’s arms, guided by the dappled light of the setting sun. I reach a corner of the garden where a chair and a table rest, against the backdrop of the garden wall and beneath the hovering shadow of the forest. I take a seat and set my wooden basket on the table. From it, I withdraw a buttery, golden scone, lathered in jam and clotted cream. I bite into the rich treat, relishing each flavor that transpires. I pause — scone in hand — as the meal’s music begins. A quartet of songbirds, from their position on the forest branches, penetrate the air. Their voices fall like silver and raindrops and starlight, sweeping over the garden and piercing my soul. I sit there for a few moments, still, listening, until their song ends. Without a word, but with an inexplicable, beating beauty that binds their hearts to mine, I thank them. And pay them in crumbs.
I pick up the ancient book I brought with me, yellowed with age and tainted with tears. Unfolding its thin, cherished pages, I enter into a world of damsels and dragons, imps and hunters. As the pages’ hue turns from gold to tea, my eyelids begin to fall. I breathe in, deep, sweet lavender, before my eyes close and my soul sleeps.