I recently came across these photos on my Auntie Dianne's Facebook page. I'm guessing I was about seven or eight years old. Both were taken at my grandparent's cabin where we spent the majority of our summers when I was growing up. The lovely little boy in the photo above is my cousin Justin. He was one of my best friends when I was a kid. I was a horrible brat to him most of the time, but he always remained sweet and loyal. Empathetic to a fault; whenever I would cry, Justin would cry, while telling me not to be sad. Even when I didn't deserve it.
The picture above is me with my Uncle Glen. I'm not sure if he still does, but he used to have the craziest mustache. It was long on both sides and he curled it around so that he had these two loopy twirls on either side of his mouth.
It was about 110 degrees in Scottsdale today so Dan and I saved our walk for dusk - right around 7:30 pm. We walked along the radiantly hot asphalt (you can't walk in the gravel because of the rattlesnakes) under the early darkness and as we neared the community center out of nowhere, we could both smell lovely damp grass that seemed to cool the surrounding air. In the desert there is almost no humidity and your senses become attuned to smelling dampness in a hungry, all-encompassing way; just the slightest smell of water outside sends tingles of pleasure up and down my spine. I think the little bit of greenery here must explode with happiness at a drink and somehow we can smell that too because the smell is stronger and fresher than I've ever noticed it being anywhere else.
About ten minutes further into our walk, we passed a yard where they must have had a small fire going, an insane thought given the temperature probably won't dip below 90 tonight and it hasn't rained in well over a month. But that wonderful burning wood smell, that sticks to the inside of your nose and always seems nicer in the dark had me breathing in deeply and thinking of camp fires at Regina Beach.
Scents from home are so dear on a dark, hot night in such a strange place.
Smells from Home