Amazing how a smell, even the slightest can whisk you off to another place. Remind you of someone or something.
You see, I have this stash of dried time and every time I dip my hand into it, it transports me back to our fields.
In France we have fields of olive trees or olive groves if you prefer.
The ground is studded with scrawny thyme shrubs thriving amongst the calcareous soil. Every step you take releases the pure smell of thyme essence while tiny little crickets jump in every direction.
I love it here. My girls love it here. They pick the thyme, rub it in their tiny hands and inhale the scent. I love the fact that they do this and appreciate the small things which are in fact really big things!!
The thyme is picked, dried and packed up in a ziplock bag ready to travel the 9700 km back to Hong Kong.
It's a simple pleasure like this used in a beef stew or coq au vin that remind us of a place, our a beautiful place.
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