What a palaver! I had always thought of chamomile flowers as being among the cutest, daintiest of flowers, but after I popped them in the greenhouse, no more than two days later did I find that their size had become HUGE.
I was really quite frightened. After all, chamomile is supposed to be the supreme herb of calmness, but now it appeared that my chamomile plant’s sole intention was to shock me with the new-found diameter potential of its flowers.
They still smell as wonderful as ever, beating my prejudice of big things as necessarily having less scent/ flavour. Yes, thankfully my chamomile still smells like a delicate, airy version of sweet, green, fresh apples. However, it is because of the flowers’ scary proportions that I am now a little hesitant to go into the greenhouse to smell them.
Their largeness doesn’t necessarily make them less beautiful; in fact now the flowers remind me of those little pinwheel fans – ready to randomly spin with happy motion, and release an apple-scented breeze so divine that it could blow from the Garden of Eden.
I do love chamomile: on one hand, the innocent flowers are delightfully soothing; at the same time, they are wild, playful and all over the place. It’s as if they preserve a sacred spirit of peace, but don’t care at all about being sensible or following convention – as can be seen in this image of my chamomile living life on the edge: