I love the way certain aromas can evoke memories and emotional responses. The smell of bread baking always takes me back to my grandmother’s kitchen; apples and cinnamon remind me of my mother; vanilla makes me think of my husband. Some things recall less pleasant places and times too, but I tend to avoid introducing those smells into my home.’
Today is cold and blustery, but the house seems extra-cozy. A big pot of pinto beans is simmering with garlic, cumin and guajillo chilies and the house smells warm.
March is a transitional time in southern Wisconsin. In the past week daytime high temperatures have ranged from 20 to 60, winds have twitched from calm to wild and precipitation has fallen in every form I can think of except hail. The ground is mucky mud one day, mushy slush the next. For the past two days we watched as rain fell steadily and the rain gauge, trapped between old snowbanks in the garden, captured an even two inches. Then it was freezing rain and ice slicks everywhere and finally five inches of wet heavy snow buried the hopeful daffodil shoots the rain had awakened. Through it all the songbirds kept singing their spring mating tunes and woodpeckers continued to drum on trees and telephone poles. On days like these it is hard to imagine the world ever being green, blooming and fruitful.
Continue reading The Hopeful Season »
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