Posted tagged ‘fir trees’

“The bigger the darkness, the easier it is to spot your little light.”

February 22, 2015

Last night it poured. I could hear snow and icicles sliding off the house to the deck. Even the dog woke up a couple of times, listened, heard nothing else and went back to sleep. Today has been a medley of rain and snow and rain again. My street is a sheet of ice. This morning I went across the street to get my yesterday’s mail and started to slide. I caught myself but the going and coming was so slippery I had to keep stopping to regain my balance. Finally I got to a snow bank and the walking was easy. That I didn’t fall is a miracle and soon enough the pilgrims will arrive to this holy spot.

Today is above freezing but tonight will be in the 20’s, the start of another cold trend. Tomorrow night will be 2˚.

When I was young, I thought of snow as a wonder. I loved to stand outside with my face raised to the sky and my eyes wide opened as I watched the snow fall. The individual shape of each flake reminded me of the doilies on the backs of my grandmother’s chairs. As the snow fell, the lawns and branches would get a light covering, but I could still see the tops of the grasses taller than the snow. The roads looked wet and the snow took longer to cover them.

Newly fallen snow undisturbed by cars or people is beautiful. Tall trees alone stand above the white carpet. Everything else is covered. My favorites are always the fir trees. They have snow but they also have greenery, mostly at the ends of their branches.

The strand of Christmas lights I didn’t take down from a section of my deck rail shine brightly every night. In the storm to end all storms, though they were covered in snow, I could see the different colors shining through. They looked as if they were covered by a white veil. Each night the little heat from those lights melted a bit of the snow and the bulbs’ colors got brighter. There is now no snow left on the rail. Tonight the lights will shine in all their brilliance and push back a bit of the darkness.

“Smells, I think, may be the last thing on earth to die.”

September 2, 2014

Today is unpleasant, another hot and humid day in the 80’s. Gracie and I went to the dump this morning. It was packed, and I had to wait in line to dump my trash. A bit later I drove my friends to the bus stop as they are going to stay in Boston tonight then leave for Hawaii in the morning. That’s it for the day. There is nothing more on my dance card. When I finish here, I am going to change into my comfy clothes and be a sloth for the rest of the day and luxuriate in my cool house. I see a nap in my future.

Gracie went out around 12:30 last night before we went upstairs to bed. While she was out, I went on the deck for a bit. The songs of crickets filled the night air. I stood there for a long while and listened. Their songs took me back to the summer nights my friend and I would sleep in the backyard and pretend we were camping in the woods. Those nights too were so filled with song it was easy to believe there were no houses or people. We were alone under the night sky with crickets for company. We were never afraid. We were amazed.

My lawn got mowed the other day, and the air was filled with the sweet smell of cut grass. Someone in the neighborhood was grilling yesterday, and I could smell their chicken cooking. I always put four flowers on the table for movie night because I have a vase with four holes. Last Saturday it was white roses, and the first thing my friend did was pick up the vase to smell the flowers. My kitchen smelled like popcorn. I ran my hand up the lavender in the deck box and my hand smelled like lavender. My friend couldn’t decide what was in the deck box behind him so he grabbed a few leaves, rubbed them between his fingers and smelled them. He knew they were oregano.

Smells are sometimes so unique and trigger the most amazing memories. Wood charcoal burning is Ghana. Fir trees no matter when are Christmas. Turkey is always Thanksgiving. I swear I can smell snow coming before the storm starts. Sugar cookies baking are Christmas. They remind me of my mother. The aroma is a favorite smell for everything it brings to mind and to heart.