Tomorrow I’m driving up to Burnsville (about an hour north of Asheville) to attend a Lavender Festival at Mountain Farm. I’m very excited. Lavender is one of my favorite herbs, and the scent of entire fields of it in bloom can knock you off your feet!
I’ll pick some, buy some, maybe even roll around in some (lol). There’s a lavender labyrinth to walk and workshops on making lavender crafts. I’m sure there will be lavender ice tea and all kinds of herby goodies.
I plan on returning to town tired, just a tiny bit sunkissed, dusty and laden new ideas, maybe a recipe or two, and with baskets brimming over with the sweet blue-purple spikes.
The other reason I’m so filled with anticipation an about-to-be-unmasked secret identity I’ve harbored. I’m a budding romance writer. I started a novel too many years ago to have only 120 pages. It’s set in this neck of the woods and its about a young woman who inherits an old farmstead and turns it into a lavender farm … where she holds festivals, makes and sells crafts, grows herbs… and, or course — romance here — falls in love. She isn’t living happily ever after yet, since I’m stuck in the endless middle, but maybe the festival tomorrow will shake loose some new inspiration.
If nothing else, perhaps I’ll get another twitter-ku from the day’s unfolding.