Last weekend at the brocante near our village, I bought a bunch — I think of them as bouquets — of les fuseaux de lavande, those beautiful spindles or batons or wands. . . you get the idea, of fresh stalks of lavender blossoms woven together with silk ribbons.
They are made to be slipped into linen cupboards or lingerie drawers. Every time I take out a towel or a pillowcase, I see and smell them. I consider them one of life’s tiny, irresistible pleasures.
Unfortunately, they are not that easy to find in our corner of the world so I was thrilled to see them. Since they will be part of my gifts to everyone who is giving me a book signing party (if you’re reading this, please act surprised) I hope the customs officials won’t try to confiscate them as “something off of a farm.”
You know, that question on the little forms we must fill-out that asks about whether we’ve been on a farm lately or are hiding any produce in our luggage?
A few years ago when we landed at JFK in New York I saw a woman stopped and surrounded by police when a beagle indicated she had something suspicious in her carry-on. As it turned out it was a half eaten apple.