The smell also reminds me of an article I loved on Mark's Daily Apple about Forest Bathing. I will give you a link.
http://www.marksdailyapple.com/forest-bathing/#axzz208Nlwfyw
The essential oils of the wood in the forest result in clinically tested health improvements coming from being in nature. How amazing is that? But also not surprising, really. I do love the idea of being prescribed time in the forest by a doctor and the woods are so cool and welcoming in this hot time of the year.
Someone caught this gorgeous rainbow trout and it made me think of this poem I had just received in my inbox from American Life in Poetry.
Welcome to American Life in Poetry. For information on permissions and usage, or to download a PDF version of the column, visit www.americanlifeinpoetry.org.
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American Life in Poetry: Column 380
BY TED KOOSER, U.S. POET LAUREATE
Lots of contemporary poems are merely little personal anecdotes set into
lines, but I prefer my anecdotes to have an overlay of magic. Here’s
just such a poem by Shawn Pittard, who lives in California.
The Silver Fish
I killed a great silver fish,
cut him open with a long
thin knife. The river carried
his heart away. I took his
dead eyes home. His red flesh
sang to me on the fire I built
in my backyard. His taste
was the lost memory of my
wildness. Behind amber clouds
of cedar smoke, Orion
drew his bow. A black moon rose
from the night’s dark waters,
a sliver of its bright face
reflecting back into the universe.
Georgia was fascinated, watching the fish be gutted and cooked on the grill and then getting a taste of the very fresh meat. Lily was down at the lake trying to break the record for inner tube standing.
When we got home Rob put on the coveralls I bought him for his birthday (He has always wanted a pair. How cute is that?) and stepped into the center of the prickly raspberry patch in our yard. He fashioned a sling so he could use both hands. He was very proud of his efficiency, but we ate the berries as fast as he picked them.
We were tired when we got home but I had promised fireworks. Rob thought I was crazy but he doesn't really like crowds or loud noise so, of course, fireworks are not his favorite. Also, last year we got home so late from the Greenfield fireworks that Tessa, our sweet chicken, had been murdered by a weasel so we've all got some firework PTSD. We girls threw blankets into the car and sped up to Brattleboro. We've never been to fireworks there and it was quite a rowdy scene, but we settled off in a quiet park and had a great time. I like events where I can lie down because by back is still quite sore with driving and sitting. I still have muscle weakness in my left foot so I am heading in for an MRI next week.
BANG!
I spilled my delicious and greatly anticipated hot jasmine tea all over the sleeping bag so we had to cram together.
Glad we went because I'm working this weekend and while I might see them from the hospital windows; it's not the same as being right under the loud POW that you can feel in your sternum. Love that.
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