The smell of scented chamomile is drifting through my house, creeping under doors and wafting through silence. The children are in bed, we are about our evening tasks and each breath brings in a little of the magical scent.
I feel unseen as I drift myself, moving quietly but with purpose. No voices seems like silence, though I am sure there are noises I do not notice. The sweet smell of drying chamomile, picked this afternoon in my garden, is a gift. It reminds me to be at peace, to let go of tension and stress, to relax. I breathe in again, I drop my shoulders and try to listen to what the chamomile has to say.
Wishing everyone a restful night and chamomile scented dreams.