Weaving magic

I love the summer breeze in the evening as it carries with it the scents of flowering things, gorgeous colors splashed against the many shades of green. The dark sky still streaked with racy slashes of rouge. Lavender is blooming like crazy in my mother’s gardens and every year I kneel next to the fragrant beds and select especially long stemmed lavender flowers until I have a small handful, enough to weave into a pretty wand to lay beside pillows and on windowsills around the house. I don’t recall how the tradition started but I do know that each summer my stomach flutters with butterflies and excitement when the air becomes heavy with its soothing aroma. I take great care in smoothing a few stems to wind and knot around the small posies. The bees hover around in curious observance, gathering the pollen to flavor their honey for the hives next door. They don’t seem intent on stinging me, instead working around me as I weave magic.