I have never been across the ocean. One day I will go. I'm planning in my head where I will start. My sister went to Greece and brought back pictures of the little towns she visited, towns nestled in the rocks of a mountainside. The pictures were evocative, alluring and filled me with longings and restless feet and heart.

That was 10 years ago or more. What struck me most in the photo she brought back was the color of blue painted on the window and door frames. I found a picture on line similar to the one my sister took. This one has the color, the unforgettable color blue that I love, but the other thing was the yellow they used with it; a flower pot with a red geranium set upon a yellow table.

Selling one loaf at a time I will see the world or I will see some of the world. I know as just part of an education I should go to Europe. I will. I know I will. But my heart longs for the exoctic far away places, places I've never even heard of.



How can I find this lake?

How is it I long for thing I know nothing about? Languages, villages, people with faces lined with the creases of working the earth and sea in order to eat.

Yet, sometimes I think the deepest travel is done without moving. My herb garden, the one that's in my head, the one that's under leaves right now. I've all ready mulched the spot with my neighbor's leaves, raking his front yard for him, loading tarp after tarp of his maple leaves and dragging them to my side yard. I said, "Henry, do you mind if I rake your front yard? I want your leaves for compost for a little garden over here on my side yard."
I think Henry may have secretly thought I was just pushing him, trying to make him clean up his yard. Oh, Henry, ye of little faith.
So my herb garden is like a vacation, a journey, a fantasy, I'll start with Jean Anthony, an herbalist out in the country, out where I used to live. I'll ask her what kind of lavender grows well here. I'll find out about some of the different varieties of thyme. Maybe that day will be in February, a sunny winter day. I won't be rushed at all, I'll take my time and visit with my Aunt Velma, too. I'll spend the time and I'll spend the  money I've set aside from my business just for this.


Billy and I have a trip planned. We're going over to Arkansas for 3 days after Christmas. I'm yearning to get away and I'm yearning for these paper white narcissus here on my window sill to grow. I'm yearning for the smell of lavender, for fresh cotton sheets, for a winter afternoon, sun filtering through the shudders and that novel I've been looking for,hoping for, the one I can't wait to get lost in; and yet, I'm not. Not yearning, because this day, this rainy, dark winter morning here in my little room with Blue at my feet and a cinnamon roll waiting for me in the oven, this is enough, it's a journey in and of itself.