Lavender Legion

I've been told that a drop or two of lavender oil placed on the temples and wrists has a calming effect on frayed nerves, and a soporific effect on insomniac tendencies. I also found that if I place a lavender sachet under my pillow just before I go to sleep, those strange little itinerant thoughts, you know the ones: semi-mythical and magnificent, where anything and everything that seems difficult and laborious and far-off, can seemingly be achieved in the here and now. Last night, these lullaby thoughts were informed by the delectable scent of lavender, and played out a nice sojourn to the South of France. There, they grew robust from good wine, cheese, and composed salads, and wooden shutters, and the smell of the sea and of course lavender, everywhere you look. A legion of lavender. Who knew that three dollars could buy a mini holiday, transport to a sublime location; a location that sits square in your mind's eye, a location that wafts up every now and then; like the gentle breeze that is carried from the sea's movements onto your lap. And then I awoke to the sirens and the scrappy sounds of New York, with the occasional improvisational sounds of a bird's song, and oh, the smell of lavender, it was still there. Strong and forceful, an olfactory adage, whose presence let those lullaby thoughts from the night before live into today. And today's quest is to gently nudge New York to love me, because France already does.

Row, row, row your boat,
Gently down the stream.
Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily,
Life is but a dream.