Scents.

There is always a moment of pure reflection where you least expect it. I went out to greet the moon last night in the cold night air. It hovered between a pair of tall trees over the street, and it was hard to see from the yard. Lovely, but I had to stay at a certain angle to see it. I was kinda bummed that I have nowhere to sit. But I gazed up at it, and then saw my neighbours across the street out with candles on their porch - Jamie and his wife are Wiccan, too. And suddenly I could smell woodsmoke - such a deep and earthy smell. A Rover's dream - it plunges me into thoughts of tenting it somewhere beautiful, a fire lighting the moonlit night. Mmmr.

Scent is such a powerful thing in our lives, and so underrated.

Apple and apple cinnamon, bread, pine and cedar forests...temple incense...clean laundry, woodsmoke, leather and hay...these are the scents that strike me the most, that take me places. These are intricate, tricky things that make me think of beauty. But likewise the smells I hate are just as strong - burnt toast, the smell of wood after it's been stripped with a paint stripper, banks. It's funny how scent works differently for people.