The smell is intoxicating.
The chamomile spills like laughter from beneath the mountain spring and flows ribbon like down the long slope, a perfect calligraphic swathe of flowers.
With cunning floral intelligence they follow those subtle changes in the micro-ecology found here.
These variations of water and nutrients dictate that bold brush stoke of white across this side of the mountain.
As ever, each to its own within the perfection of the natural world, yet at the same time not one, but rather a gentle mixing of forms into the wild masterpiece that is the Dehesa.