Science fiction, fantasy, mystery and what-not
I heard thunder. Racing outside, I witnessed the end of a rain shower. Sunshine was back on the scene.
That delicious smell of rain-freshened air and earth pulled me in. Moving to the porch’s edge and look up into a deep well of dark gray clouds. Capping the view across the valley was a bold, full rainbow stretching over the entire scene.
A good way to finish a day.
Received a sharpish wake-up notice this morning.
At about 6 AM, I was pulled out of a dream at Papi’s request. He needed to go back out. Papi, aka the ginger blade, likes to come in and nibble some kibble, and then go back out to see if anything has changed outside.
Letting him out, I shrugged off the dream to think about it later and nestled back under the covers. At that point, I felt and heard Tucker get off the bed. A minute later, I heard him crunching kibble.
Silence came.
Litter box scratching followed.
That’s when I came fully awake as Tucker did some business and launched a stench that exfoliated my skin.
Had to immediately empty that. The good news, I told myself, is that last year’s COVID bout didn’t seem to affect my sense of smell.
Good to find those silver linings, even if they’re in a litter box.
For me, my first coffee sip is with the nose. Having that steaming dark freshness clambering over my olfactory system grants a momentary lull and a psyche lift.
His first brush with his daily coffee was through the nose – smelling the ground roasted beans as they went into the filter, and then sucking in deep breaths of the cup after it was poured, a scent that pleasured the senses.
Roasted
dark
hot and waiting
aromas drift
and capture
carry
and hold
heat comes
to my lips
and tongue
and the flavor
slides up
into my
mind
Do you know that moment when you first smell the brewed coffee and lift a cup of it up to your lips, and feel the heat radiating toward you? You take that first sip and let it loiter in your mouth and slip down your throat, and think, “Wow, that’s so good.” You take another sip, and the sip becomes a long, lingering swallow that hefts a sigh in you as your lips finally part with your cup, and it comes to you, that might be the best thing of your day?
But then you go on, and there are other good things during the day, and you think, “This can be a pretty good life.”
Naw, that’s probably just the coffee talking.
Have you ever been out somewhere, and smell something funky, or bad, and think, is that me?, and then try to smell yourself to see if it is?
No, no, I never have. I was being rhetorical.
Michael Seidel, writer 