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When the muse whispers in your ear, you must answer. I was going to do my nails, but I knew that if I delayed writing this for too long, I would forget. “I better go craft my words,” I thought to myself.

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I walked outside yesterday evening to do some errands. For whatever reason, I am too often locked away at home, inside, in my own world. Miracles have been in short supply, hereabouts.

When I stepped outside, I was nearly bowled over by a wave of the most delicious smell. It was sweet and intoxicating.

The rain had just begun to sprinkle down. As it hit the asphalt, the residual warmth of the day released a pent up sigh of scent. I love that smell! It brings back so many memories; whispers of  possibilities – the open road;  new vistas; the country; fresh, clean air. There’s an enchantment, a nostalgia; like a long-lost  friend or lover.

The grass, the leaves heavy on the trees and the many rhododendron blossoms joined in the sigh. The rhodies are coming into their fullest bloom – they’re all blooming together.

As I went on my way, the sweet smell was everywhere.

As I went down one of the roads in my neighborhood, there came the familiar annual cloud of cottonwood seed balls, drifting in that heavy, perfumed air. It’s a sight that fills the senses, heralding the arrival of summer. I remember with pleasure the cottonwoods of my youth; another time and place, so far away. What a blessing; what fulfillment.

I thought about that wonderful, sweet air. It is as if all the green things had been holding their breath, praying for just a littttle more rain – even the asphalt and concrete. In gratitude they all breathed a deep sigh of relief; one collective exhalation that filled the air, my thankful lungs and very soul.

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