The Willow Glade -- page 3888

The Mystical Herb Garden

The mist is perfumed with a hauntingly familiar scent. Fishing in the dim pool of your memory for the association you suddenly realize that in describing this roiling mist the original writer must have misspelled the word "thyme" and that you have stepped into a carefully cultivated bed of that aromatic herb. Around you in neatly patterned patches disappearing into the fogged edges of vision grow other herbs.

A voice from behind startles you. "Hey, there, newcomer, do you have a minute to help me carry my baskets back to the kitchen?" Turning you see an apparition from the mist: a short, fat man, dressed in loose, white trousers and coat, wearing a tall, white stovepipe hat sporting the embroidered words "You May Kiss The Chef."

He seems friendly enough despite long kitchen knife thrust beneath the sash of his (white, naturally, you think to yourself, thinking he could have better taste in clothes) apron. You smile somewhat faintly, since you still suffer from the shock of his sudden appearance, and say, "Well, yes, I think I can spare some thyme ... err, time. Would you help me find out where I am if I do?"