Sounds and Smells of a Spring Sunday

As I was prepping my front porch for a summer of writing and reading, I had to stop and breathe in the barbecue. Smells of brown sugar, chipotle and honey glaze flooded the air. My taste buds and stomach were aching for whatever was about to come my neighbors’ grill.  The smell of barbecue was coming from all directions. It was intoxicating.

My vision of a heaping plate of ribs was interrupted by the sounds of a lawnmower coming from the next block over. As the lawnmower passed back and forth, the hum of the engine alternated between the sound of a helicopter landing and whispering hummingbird wings. The breeze picked up, and smells of freshly cut grass floated to my over grown lawn. I hadn’t noticed that my lawn was inexcusably past due for a trim until I began deeply inhaling the sent of a freshly manicured lawn that was not my own. I took a deep huffing breath, and added call lawn keeper to my mental to do list.

I was about to return to cleaning the porch, when I realized I was surrounded by the buzz of giant bumblebees that wanted to tango. I really wasn’t in the mood to dance, but it would be rude not accept the offer especially since my date could sting me if rejected. I must have been a poor dancer, I think I was nervous, because my date quickly abandoned me.

The breeze shifted directions, and brought with it the delicate smell of lilacs. I hadn’t seen a lilac one all Spring, but the sent is undeniable. I was immediately transported to springs of the past – playing in Nanny and PopPop’s yard, the dressing room during spring dance recitals,  a particular curve in the road driving home from high school every night, my wedding bouquet.

Just as I was tapping into memories of past lives, my meditation was abruptly ended by the booming and vibrating bass coming from the car blazing down the street. It was no doubt a local teenager in a hurry to go no where. Perhaps he was rushing home in time for the ribs that were about to come off the grill, or maybe he was trying to get home and help mow the yard. More than likely, he was in a hurry to grow up, and the earth shaking bass was the power boost on his time machine. I sure hope he knows that if he ever needs to go back in time, to return to this Sunday afternoon, this day that he is so desperately trying to speed past,  all he needs to do is close his eyes and breathe in the lilac.

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