roasted chicken, bathed in lemon-butter infused with rosemary, thyme, garlic, all from the garden: a fit birthday meal for the man of the house.
warm, creamy vanilla in the Boston Cream Pie I made for dessert. I cooked the pudding, fragrant and brilliant with egg yolks from my happy hens and milk from cows that get to eat grass all day. Quite compelling.
the sharp nip of newsprint on an bi-monthly newspaper that I subscribed for in Gabe’s name, for his birthday. (What does one get for a man?)
the tea-tree/peppermint shampoo he bought at Sport-clips, our favorite and we’ve been out of it. We would rather buy food than shampoo, if it really comes down to it, but it was a nice splurge.
the Sunday evening popcorn that Addy makes every week, with browned butter and nutritional yeast flakes, pulling me right out of my nap.
the crushed grain of the communion bread and the rich grapes in the cup, reminding me of a body, broken and poured out for me.
the medicinal scent of crushed chamomile, growing in the middle of the rocky path where Addy and I were sauntering in the evening breeze.
the sludgy green swamp at the edge of the trail, where waterbirds stand statuesque, waiting for dinner to swim by.
the woodsy aroma of bracken ferns and rotting leaves, sun-splashed yet cool in the underbrush along the trail that some inspired person reclaimed from the forsaken railroad bed.
the acrid smell of the glaze kiln firing, and the dusty scent of it when I opened the lid, hoping all was well. Not quite all was well, as it rarely is, but most of the pieces were good, which was gratifying after not having done pottery for awhile.
disgusting fish emulsion fertilizer that makes my plants happy and is only slightly less stinky than the comfrey concoction I tried.
earthy cucumbers that we cut up for snacks every day, and the (generic, not Hidden Valley, per insistant request) ranch dressing that some of the people in this house consider a staple food.
line-dried sheets: the scent of the sun and the wind trapped in cotton.
raspberry kefir, tangy and sweet, our favorite flavor.
day lilies, pouring charming spice into the garden the whole day.
grease on the guys’ clothes and hands, as they work on the endless car maintenance around here: brakes and axles and calipers and such.
the card-boardy warehouse scent of boxes of new schoolbooks, unpacked, categorized, and shelved for another day because I cannot put my head in that space just yet.
peanut butter on bananas for a pick-me-up snack.
Downy-scented dryer vent on the breeze as I rode the scooter up the hill to see the sunset.
honeysuckle and freshly cut hay on the same ride, which I liked a lot better.
What did you smell?
wocket in my pocket 