There's a song that goes, "I got Friday on my mind." (It's an oldie but a goodie). I, however, have no clue what day it is and have rosemary on my mind - or in my tea actually.
Walking to the dentist today (or running as I was late), I huffed my way past a rosemary bush, snapped a small branch, ran my fingers along its oil-rich, sticky stem and sniffed it all the way to the waiting room. Without its heady fragrance sending me into sensory bliss and spurring me on, I may have otherwise collapsed into an albeit fragrant heap.
The dentist, in between contorting my mouth to unnatural shapes and sizes to better accommodate implements better suited to Land of the Giants, commented on how nice I smelled.
If I wasn't pinned to a dental chair with ridiculous goggles on, two of them diving in now, the gagging at the back of my throat because the nurse kept suctioning my tongue instead, and a fear of the whole shebang causing near paralysis, I would have given her my branch.
When it was all over, I forgot. I was too busy getting myself out of there.
The receptionist also noticed the smell when I went to pay for the experience. I gave her the branch, we talked lamb and tea and, given she was excited about the latter, said she was going to make it when she got home from work (if you can call pouring boiling water over a herb 'making', that is). I just did the same.
It doesn't take much to share the love. The receptionist will probably remember the smell and out chat whenever she comes across rosemary from this day forward.
As for me, I have just wiped the whole dental chair experience from my mind forever for good. The last thing I want to recall when I find rosemary, pick mine, or flavour my lamb, chicken, bread, potatoes or hot water with it is two similarly goggled faces within an inch of my nose drilling into the very implements I need to eat with.
(Julia Hebaiter in Another Life)FoodLit Writer, Feel-Good Food Lover & Storyteller
Because Food Sans Story is Bland