Two Musings

Available here.

1.) Somewhere, there is an earring civilization.  Venerable sterling elders with French hooks advise plastic clip-ons on how to raise their feather-and-kidney-wire young to be good and productive earring citizens.  Their mythology always seems to center around the quest to find one's soulmate, becoming a perfectly matched pair -- er, couple.

2.) I was reading an out-of-date travel magazine the other day while I waited for the laundry quarters to be spent, and there was an article about the memory triggers of smell.  This is something I often tell students about their papers -- scent is the single strongest memory trigger, you can tell me about how Grandma's house at Christmas looked for three pages, but if you add three lines at strategic intervals about how it smelled, you've doubled the narrative's force.  It's inspiring in that maddening way -- if only you could make jewelry of a smell.

I'll never forget the first time I stepped out of the airport in Charlotte.  The smell of the South is like nothing else, and describing it is as hard as putting into words that waxy, fleshy sheen of a salad-plate-sized magnolia blossom, or finding the perfect metaphor for the sound a cicada makes.  Think of clean water, freshly cut grass, and an assortment of fine cigars pristine, fragrant and unsmoked in their cedar box.

Yeah.  Like that.

The garden in mid-June: Coleus, native asters, thrift and liatris and rue.