Fallen Lavender

I slipped through the ajar patio door onto the cool red bricks outside. In the sheltered corner near the wall, an overturned terracotta pot rested beside a patch of wild thyme and brittle lavender stems. The morning light cast long, soft shadows across the damp moss between the pavers. Sitting on my heels, I gently parted the tangled twigs and gathered a scatter of dry purple florets resting on the stone. A quiet, herbal scent rose as I sifted the stray pieces into a neat little mound against the weathered clay rim.