On mornings like this, I envy my dog’s nose. But even I, a mere human, can smell the sweet aromas wafting on the morning air as I head out on my daily jog. Wildflowers abound along the roadside, each offering its unique perfume to the passerby. I wish I could identify them by name. All I know is…that one’s yellow; that one’s purple; that one’s red; that one’s orange. Actually, I know the orange one: its globe mallow.
There are places where the fragrance seems trapped in one spot in the air, hovering there, waiting to surround you for just a moment, then it is gone as you move on. It’s 7:30 in the morning and the air is cool enough for a light sweatshirt, but not too cool for shorts.
All the morning smells are not so fresh and fragrant. Horses and sheep add their unique and heady stench but I keep moving, putting them behind me. I know that up ahead, somewhere close by, there is another sweet scent awaiting me. I may not know what it is and I won’t need to… I just sniff it in, prolong it as best I can, and then smile at its memory while I move on.
Every season has its sniffs, some more pungent than others, some that linger, some that slap you in the face, some that assault your olfactory nerve like a festering horde. Spring sniffs are fresh; summer sniffs are abundant; autumn sniffs are ripe; and the sniffs of winter bring a chill to one’s senses.
Today, though, I celebrate the summer sniffs. They are most apparent on the morning air, before the heat of the day overcomes them. They are an inducement, a reason to get out of bed, a prize when found. Summer sniffs are better than morning coffee.
posted on June 23, 2009 8:18 AM ()
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