This week, I drove past a large field of lavender plants, growing along the freeway, about 90 minutes south of here. Row after even row of carefully managed, winter-dormant plants. I've only noticed this large field once or twice before, and haven't yet seen the plants dressed in their summer clothes. I look forward to seeing how the field looks as the seasons grow warmer.
Our oldest daughter has always loved picking flowers. It took us quite a few years to train her that she could take whatever she wanted out the the back yard, but she needed to leave any flowers in the front yard alone. I realized one afternoon that the message wasn't quite clear enough, when she came home with a huge bouquet of lavender from the neighbor's yard.
I hadn't ever noticed the lavender growing along part of an old, ornate, twisted-wire fence across the street. But, for a long time after that, when I walked past, I would notice it and breathe in the soft fragrance that lingered faintly in the area.
When we first started making soap, we did a little two-day boutique at a local high school. I would guess that for every person who stopped and bought a bar or two of what we had, at least one other person would ask if we had lavender. When we said no, they would simply smile, and without much comment, continue on their way.
Lavender is like that, easy to overlook, but a treasure once you know it's there.
Sitting here at the kitchen desk, I can see, through the window, past the trees and bushes in my yard, and across the narrow street, to the spot where that lavender used to be.
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