good stuff . . .

I am so visual, I sometimes forget about the sense of smell. So, I was surprised when I opened the garage door to start my morning bike excursion and was assailed by the dank musky aroma of overly wet earth. Not an unpleasant smell, but strong and visceral. A good smell. A thought provoking smell . . . so I lingered for a moment. Starting on my way I discovered one of the neighbors mowing his lawn. While I love the smell of new mown grass, this was a richer, deeper aroma. I stopped pedaling and coasted by slowly, inhaling with delight. Out on the road, the concrete pavement was still drying from its nighttime dampness and a more acrid unpleasant stench was rising. As I swung into a newly started development with lots of cleared land surrounded by woods, I thought I could detect the dampness of the leaves and grass: a loaminess that rose up and surrounded me. I couldn't help but inhale the essence of the earth. Heading back home I passed a thin old man, hunched over his decrepit lawn mower, adding oil and immediately that warm, sickly sweet, greasy tang wafted over to me and I finally realized how loaded this world is with flavor and how rapidly I move through it with my windows closed. Resolution: Stop and smell those proverbial roses. It really does a soul good.