Cactus blooming two parcels down from our new home site. June. Good morning to me and to the squawking blue jays in the pines beyond me. And to the sun who is taking his sweet time waking up today... The past few days have not been reeking with abundant creativity or philisophical revelations. I only wish! Rather they have been spent ironing out details of new life in four weeks. Changing out cars (I no longer need the gas guzzling 4wd if I'm leaving the mountains), having this house inspected, appraised, finding a new residence, packing up the baby's freshly washed clothes and sorting them by age/size-the list continues. I kind of feel like a gypsy. Looking at it that way feels good anyway. I got up at five this morning mostly because I was hungry, but also because I wanted to drink in the smell of my beloved forest. I can't describe the scent satisfactorily, but to try I'd have to say it smells of pine needles, sage, damp compost and butterscotch. The smell is most fragrant in the early morning and about an hour or two after the sun goes down. It is the smell of summer camp, which I attended here at Camp Condor as a preteen and received my first kiss. The smell is one that always feels as if I'm experiencing it for the first time. I puff my lungs in and out, wanting to bottle it and knowing that when it's not there, I've forgotten exactly what it's like. A desperate feeling comes over me when I realize this-like when I misplace my wedding ring. I want to know it is there every day-to be reassured by it. I wonder how my new environment can compare to this...*sniff*.