A Pinch of Thyme

I followed a tangy drift of dried herbs into the kitchen and scaled the handle of a lower cabinet to reach the sunny butcher block. Sitting right beside an open glass spice jar was a sprig of dried thyme, crisp and fragrant. With both sleeves gathered, I gently pressed the leafy tip between my palms until tiny, fragrant crumbs rained down upon the pale cutting board. I arranged them into a jaunty little spiral with my finger. Such a grand little garden to build right by the cutting knives!