I think our mini heat wave is over. This morning I have cooler breezes blowing through my apartment. The constant panting by the pups has ceased. Their appetites are back to normal. That is a good thing, for they ate little over the last few days. They are so small, 12 lbs. and 9 lbs. respectively, that I am concerned when they won't eat. Especially Jessie Jane, who is the consummate garbage hound. When she refuses food, I know that things are not well in her world. My appetite seems to have returned as well, which is probably not so good.
As long as my kitchen was cool early this morning, I baked bread. I had been out of bread for a couple of days, but didn't want to make the apartment any more miserably hot than it already was. Six loaves and two dozen buns are cooling on my kitchen table. I try to bake my own bread as often as possible. The wonderful smells that fill my home remind me of coming home from school to find my mother taking bread from her oven. There is little that smells so wonderful as bread baking.
I hope that the cooler days continue. I love the fall of the year. I live near the Minnesota River, and I so enjoy walks with the dogs on the paths along it's banks. I wish that the city still allowed folks to burn the leaves raked from their yards, for that smell was one I always associated with autumn. But soon the smells of canning apples, cooking applesauce and apple butter will fill my little home, and that is just as good.
Isn't it funny how different smells in the air can bring on such pleasant memories.
Time for an update
2 hours ago
The smell of leaves burning will return me forty years into the past to my grandparents on Thanksgiving.
ReplyDeleteI have no control over the sensation, so I go along, get lost in the memories and realize the blessings in life are moments that are so special, time can never take them away.
Jess, you are right. I, too, tend to get lost in those memories. The scent of apple pie brings my Dad to me, for he made the best apple pie in the universe. Lilacs take me to my childhood in a drafty old farmhouse where lilacs grew out back. The smell of new mowed hay sends me to my childhood in the country. I agree that we are blessed with those memories.
ReplyDelete