Day 144: Under the Hammocks

(Rough Draft)

When I went outside it smelled like the past. A memory I had from somewhere else, not this place, somewhere back in my memory. It smelled clean, can nature smell clean? Not like clean dishes or fresh laundry out of the dryer, almost like it had just rained, but it hadn’t rained. It’s been cold lately, not freezing but there has been a distinct chill in the air. It might be in the 40’s or 50’s, which is some of my favorite temps, I think the cold air made everything smell good.

There is also a slight breeze which takes any of the odors of the world and pushes them along to a hopefully more deserving neighborhood. Maybe the stench of the pond was swept away to some neighborhood where the people there fight over property lines and leave nasty letter on each others cars for parking in their parking spots. All I know is that it smells good outside, and I’m not sure I deserve it, but I wont complain. I will never complain about the smell of fresh earth, or new leaves budding from the branches of dry and cracking branches hanging high above the hammock that filters in the street light as I walk beneath it.

I experienced all of these things tonight as I walked my dog down a winding sidewalk path that weaves around old palm trees and tall pines. It stretches out along the road before it turns sharply across the street to adorn the shoulder of the other side of the road. This is where we normally turn around. It’s a long enough walk for both of us, maybe no more than half a mile, but it feel sufficient…