The lost love language

I used to tell my roommate in college that her love language was not one of the typical five (quality time, gifts, acts of service, physical touch, or words of affirmation), but rather it was something completely different.

Jilly's love language, I determined, had to be the lost love language of smell.

Okay, obviously this is a joke. But I think this idea holds some weight.

I love when smells link us to particular memories - i.e. how a particular flower scent reminds me of Palestine, how cold, sunny mornings (the type you know are going to turn into beautifully warm days) take me back to Boom street in PMB, or how the smell of damp, cool woodlands remind me of my grandparents' house in Pennsylvania).

Standing alone, I think the word "smell" has terrible connotations. Yet, I love this sense because of the power aroma has to pull at my heart stings.

I love the way new seasons smell. Spring, of course, has to be the best with every plant blooming forth in lovely colors, shapes, and smells. (Even though I am allergic to Kansas, I still love this season). I was mowing the grass this morning, and the thick parts, still clinging to a little bit of morning moisture, had this deep, almost molasses aroma to it. Delightful.

Spring mornings smells are enough motivation to get out of bed and to spend the entire day outside. I can be a morning person in the spring and summer. (Even though I know I should go to the library and work on my writing, it is enough to convince me, eh, it's okay to garden instead). The scents of the blooming trees and bushes, freshly cut grass, and, believe it or not, the smell of smoked pork that always waltzes its way down main street during Saturday mornings in Hesston, are enough to fill me up to the brim with joy. This may be dorky, but I am okay with that due to the fact that I feel so joyful about life right now simply because the day has been lovely.

Another great smell from today came from the garden. When I was mowing over by my veggie beds, I realized that our garden mint (or apple mint as my Dad told me it was called today) had suddenly shot out of the ground without me ever noticing it. There was enough to pick without taking the entire crop. Excitedly, I picked a handful and went inside to make "meadow tea." (Usually we make this tea with some lemonade powder, but since I want to get away from processed things like that, I tried it with the freshly squeezed variety. It is still not as good as my Aunt Joy's, but it is getting pretty close).

It was hot today, but not too hot to kill my spring-crush yet. (Actually, I did manage to build another garden box today. It is very small, but I am still very proud of it. I am not sure what I am going to plant in it yet, maybe my early girls once I get back from Asheville next weekend).

True this very early spring make me feel nervous about the summer (but then again, I am nervous about everything. Let's be honest). Instead of worrying too much, today I am drinking it all in (in the form of meadow tea), keeping the air conditioning off (it's not time for that, people) and letting the delicious smells of our grill keep this spring-joy alive.

Happy Saturday everyone!