Fresh Cut Wood (Day 5)

 Assignment:  Use sense of smell to bring you back to a favorite memory

Being over 60, I could choose a lot of different scents to bring back a memory.  But the one that's the strongest for me is the smell of fresh cut wood.  Growing up, my father was always the 'handyman', repairing things, fixing things, and making things.  One of the things I remember him making for me is a custom wooden Barbie carrier.  It was about 11x14.  It opened into two equal parts on golden hinges.  The left side was divided into three equal sections; it would hold three different Barbie dolls.  The right side was the place to hold clothes. There was a small hook at the top to hang her different dresses, and small compartments on the bottom to hold her shoes and accessories.  It was stained walnut, then varnished to a high gloss.  

When I smell more fresh cut wood, the second thing I recall is when he put shelves on my bedroom wall.  4 shelves to hold my books and special trinkets.  Another thing fresh cut wood brings to mind is building the family room add on.  I was out there as often as I could be, helping him cut and hammer pieces into place.  And after the room was complete, the stone fireplace was stacked with fresh cut wood, to keep us warm on cool winter evenings. 

My son inherited my Dad's woodworking skills.  He became the 'handyman' of the house, and could build or fix things just like Dad.  He worked in the lumber department at Home Depot and when he came home from work, giving him a hug, I could smell fresh cut wood on his clothes. 

If someone made a candle that smells like fresh cut wood, I would buy all of them! It is the most comforting smell to me.  I miss both of them dearly. 

Just One Word (Day 4)

 Assignment:  Think up a word that sparks vivid imagery for you .. or maybe a favorite word, and write about it using the five senses.

I chose the word Serendipity.

Serendipity tastes like a chocolate bar, smooth, creamy texture, sweetness exploding across my tongue.  Each bite brings new pleasures. 

To me, serendipity smells like freshly washed laundry, hung on the line to dry in the sunshine beneath a blazing blue sky with puffy white clouds. 

If I was going to gaze at serendipity, it would be in a redwood forest of trees, the contrast of light and dark, sunshine and shadows; cool in the shade, warm in the sunshine.  The pine needles lining the forest floor release their musky wooded scent as I walk along.

Serendipity is sleek to the touch; like running fingers through the silky hairs of a favorite pet, or across the curved fender of an old car painted black. 

The sound of serendipity as it rolls off the tongue brings to mind gentle rolling hills covered in fresh green grass, as far as the eye can see.  

Writing Through Touch (Day 3)

Assignment:  With dirt or baking soda and a spoon, near a sink.  Close your eyes and pick up the spoon, explore it.  Cover your hands with baking soda or dirt, close your eyes and describe how it feels.  What else could this be?  Wash your hands, feel the water between your hands and the spoon...

I close my eyes and think about the possibilities, and what comes to mind is planting flowers, or in my case, a small cactus.  As my hand closes around the handle of the spoon, it will function as a trowel as I begin to get my hands dirty.  The wooden handle of the spoon is smooth and worn; I've used this spoon many times over the years.  The dirt is soft and spongy; the smell that rises is damp earth.  Breaking up the dirt that has clumped together with my hands, I feel a connection to Mother Earth.  Growing things seems to run in my blood, back through generations of farmers.  Handling the cactus carefully, holding it by the roots, loosening up the root system, it's ready to plant.  With the spoon in hand, I scoop dirt carefully around the cactus that I've named "Spike".  Tamping down the dirt, adding more spoonfuls of dirt to fill the container, tamping it down again.

Cleanup is simple.  Turning on the hose, I rinse my hands under the cool water, rubbing them together, the water burbles out.  It brings me back to my youth, playing in the backyard and getting a drink from the hose, water running crystal clear, with a slight taste of rubber from the hose.  Hands washed, I give Spike a drink and hope he's happy in his new home. 

Food, Glorious Food (Day 2)

Assignment:  I hope you came hungry, or have a great food memory at hand, because today we’re going to practice writing through our taste buds!

When I think about food -- ok, I'll admit, I think of it probably more than I should -- the one day that comes to mind when it comes to food is Thanksgiving.  One of the best holidays of the year:  there are no gift giving requirements.  All that matters is being with family, being thankful for all we've been given during the year, and having a great meal to celebrate.  

When you're young, Thanksgiving wakes you with Mom in the kitchen beginning her day looking at a (hopefully) thawed out turkey that needs to be stuffed and basted, the sound of celery being chopped and sausage frying on the stove.  The smell is glorious, and brings up an anticipation that continues to build from there.  The bread was cubed the day before and is ready to be mixed with the sausage, onion, and celery and stuffed into the bird.  Once the bird is popped into the oven, it won't be long before the smells drift through the house, creating a bit more mouth watering anticipation.

Of course, there's always setting the table - fancy dishes and silverware, pretty crystal goblets that gleam in the light.  Maybe some pretty flowers, or a cornucopia in the center of the table.  Counting out chairs so there's a place for everyone.

Turkey isn't the only thing on the menu.  Mashed potatoes, gravy, yams with those little marshmallows on top... cooked to a golden brown.  The meal is never complete without some kind of cranberry sauce, whether you like it fresh or prefer it to be from a can, holding it's shape and looking like some kind of jello.  And yes!  There's always room for jello.  When I was young, mom made lime jello with shredded carrots in it.  I've never figured out the real appeal for that, but I always enjoyed it. 

For me, the icing on the cake would be the home made rolls.  As a grownup, I'm partial to really good breads, and I think mom's rolls are the reason why.  The smell of bread cooking brings back so many memories of the house I grew up in and the people in my family.  For me, the ultimate comfort food.  For some, bread is just what's holding the delicious insides together.  But I enjoy bread, plain or buttered.  When bread is in the oven, everyone knows it!

No Thanksgiving meal is complete without pumpkin pie with whipped cream.  Some years, we were ready for dessert right after the meal, but most years we were willing to wait a while before trying to stuff ourselves with anything else.  Whether you think of pumpkin as a fruit or a vegetable, when you mix is up with spices and condensed milk, and bake it in the oven, it's delicious.  Topped with some whipped cream (not Cool Whip) it's the perfect end to a glorious meal. 

Journey Through the Senses (Day 1)

Assignment:  For our first day, we are going to go dark -- literally. We’ll take a break from our sense of sight so we can pay attention to everything our other senses are telling us.

As I sit and think about this assignment, what comes to mind is my morning walk with Sadie.  Because it's so early, the sun hasn't come up to lighten the sky.  Lamp posts leave a pool of light on each corner, but it's dark in between.  I can see stars for miles, and every now and then I catch a shooting star!  

With every step I'm aware of things around me because the neighborhood is still quiet and sleepy.  The occasional sound of traffic on the distant streets reaches me from time to time.  Sadie's dog tags jangle with each step, which sometimes awaken a few of the neighborhood dogs who bark once or twice.  Friday mornings bring the clang of dumpsters being emptied.  Some days there's rustling under a bush, or up in the tree.  I imagine it's a critter or a bird, telling it's young that it's time to start the day. 

Now that summer is over, there's a slight chill in the air.  The air near the park is a few degrees cooler than the asphalt and sidewalks, which hold the heat from the day before.  Sprinklers that kick on bring the scent of wet grass, or wet desert.  Creosote when it gets damp has a very unique smell, very pleasant to me.  Sometimes the scent of houses wafts its way out:  one neighbor must smoke indoors; Julie does laundry early and I can smell her dryer sheets drifting along in a breeze; a really good morning might bring the scent of bacon frying .... makes my mouth water every time! 

Since it's dark, I don't use my sense of touch for much - perhaps to pat Sadie if there's another dog nearby just to let her know that she doesn't need to bark.  In the desert, many of our creatures are nocturnal, so reaching out and touching something ... well, this old Gal doesn't do it!

We are very dependent on visual cues as we navigate our way through our days.   We've all heard the saying "Stop and smell the roses."  I think that's just another euphemism to remind you to use your other senses more often.  Tune in and listen to sounds, or smell what's in the air.  Challenge yourself to take notice of these things.  You'll be happy you did.  :)