I have always found reading prompts me to write. Blogs are just perfect for this because they are short. I hate when I am beginning a novel and can’t get through the first page without needing to write. After all it’s, not fair, it’s their turn. I came across this great blog tonight: http://erikamarks.wordpress.com/2010/11/05/whats-that-smell/ and I was reminded of a story that I’ve told but have yet to write. She brings up an interesting topic: how does one write about smell? It is perplexing, so please pardon the next paragraph, my lead into the story. I’ll call it contrast.
Smells… you need to be very careful when you buy a house in the country. Skunks are nothing, try driving past the cattle farm on your way to work each the morning. This city girl would be gagging, hoping not to get stuck at the railroad crossing with one of those endless freight trains coming through.
But I’ll never forget the first summer in my next county house, the one I’m in now. Here I’m even further out from town, surrounded by farmland, produce not animals. Shortly after moving in, I arrived home one afternoon and noticed an aroma in the house that I was uncertain of. It seemed to be getting stronger the closer I came to the stairs. It was fresh and cool unlike the hot day. It was calling me. I ran up the steps to find, blowing through the open windows with the sunlight, the sweet fragrance of the harvest. Overwhelmed by my discovery, I raised my arms in the air and rejoiced “CILANTRO!” My kids must have thought I was crazy.