The smell of the midwestern wind takes me back to the happiest times of my life, the smell of morning coming through open windows with curtains that blow in the breeze. I’m thinking of my grandmother’s dairy farm in Cadott, Wisconsin, way way to the north of the state. The smell of a spring day. The smell of a flower. The smell of peppermint tea in the depths of winter. The sanctimonious (yes it is holy!) smell of your bed having gone unwashed, forgotten, for weeks. Good god, stop to smell the roses if you can. I just walked around my apartment smelling three things: the rosemary plant by my window (wonderful!), the donut holes sitting on the counter (they smell like how heaven must feel!), and the cajun seasoning in the cabinet over the stove (I sneezed for five minutes straight!)
