Labiate.
I was walking through the park this morning when I was stopped by a large woman pointing at a flowerbed.
"Is la-VAN-da?" she asked in halting English.
Why did she think I might know about the plants growing in the park's flowerbeds.
It is of course exactly the sort of thing I know about.
It was a Labiate with purple flowers, the inflorescence much looser than lavender. I pulled a leaf off and rubbed it between my fingers (probably breaking all sorts of park bye-laws).
It did have a floral scent, but a little minty too, and not half as powerful as lavender. (Lavender is one of my least favourite scents. I once had a bottle of whisky which had strong lavender overtones, and it put me off SMWS for ages.)
I told her it was close, but it wasn't lavender.
I didn't ask her why she wanted to know, though now of course I am curious.
"Is la-VAN-da?" she asked in halting English.
Why did she think I might know about the plants growing in the park's flowerbeds.
It is of course exactly the sort of thing I know about.
It was a Labiate with purple flowers, the inflorescence much looser than lavender. I pulled a leaf off and rubbed it between my fingers (probably breaking all sorts of park bye-laws).
It did have a floral scent, but a little minty too, and not half as powerful as lavender. (Lavender is one of my least favourite scents. I once had a bottle of whisky which had strong lavender overtones, and it put me off SMWS for ages.)
I told her it was close, but it wasn't lavender.
I didn't ask her why she wanted to know, though now of course I am curious.