And she sits down, right in the midst of a field of chamomile,
She inhales...and exhales...
And for a few moments, life is okay.
I step out into the garden this morning to receive inspiration of what to write about. I feel the closest to HIM here…here in this place, this garden, even this garden wilderness. I feel the closest to HIM in those areas HE has destined for me to walk.
And here, in this garden, I hear HIM through chamomile. I chuckle at the childhood tale of Peter Rabbit. After an adventurous day of nibbling on forbidden fruit, Peter is sent to bed by his mother with a cup of chamomile tea. How apropos that a naughty and nervous rabbit be given a dose of chamomile tea to calm his nerves and settle his stomach.
Chamomile speaks to me, lately. Matricaria recutita is the species that I’m growing. Imagine my surprise when I realized this season that the chamomile planted last year had left copious amount of itself behind through seeds. And I, without planning, had a bed of chamomile to enjoy. And it has been to advantage; for its properties that are related through steeping a cup of tea, are just as evident during picking.
I’m learning much from her and she seems to have some things that I need at the moment. Chamomile is a well-known herb and is a staple in the herbalist’s medicine cabinet. Indigestion, muscle spasms, tension, inflammation and infection are just a few of the things that the pharmacopoeias have approved chamomile to treat. A soft, gentle, and peaceful herb that’s full of power and potency. A gentle giant.
I said goodbye to a dear friend on yesterday, Ms. Annie Mae is how I referred to her. She was 85. She and I would often share stories and similar interests, such as crocheting. I still have a blanket that she crocheted fro me. She was always giving, always loving and was always herself every time I talked with her.
As preacher eulogized her, he referred to the scripture referencing the Fruit of the Spirit; love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control. A stately lady in size, but one who flowed in the grace of the spirit. To know her was to fall in love with her. A gentle giant.<