The Way It Smells

I love the way it smells. I'm riding my bike and smelling the pine needles and diesel fumes. I ride past the log yard with all that fresh cut pine and you can imagine how good THAT smells. Then there is this August cold front that moves in, just for a day or two, and there is the scent of manure and grass and something else that rides that colder air. And that, of course, smells just like the Fair, which will be here soon. I'm glad my mom taught me, through a wordless passage, how the bread or the cookies smell when they are done. The best smell: the kids' heads. The coffee in the morning, the unarticulable river, the corn-chip-like scent of my good dog... That bread I'm baking, of course. Thank you, Nose.