After the rain falls it smells of dirt and dust in the valleys of Nevada, of stone and of dead wood on the mountains.
In Germany, where I first noticed the different sents places can have, the air smelled sweetly of flowers nectar.
In Michigan, my home, though I love it so, has only smelled like dead and drowning worms to me in all but the most remote places that smell of dirt, pine, and a cool lake breeze.
I miss these places and their sents. Funny how much our memories can be triggered by them.
In Germany, where I first noticed the different sents places can have, the air smelled sweetly of flowers nectar.
In Michigan, my home, though I love it so, has only smelled like dead and drowning worms to me in all but the most remote places that smell of dirt, pine, and a cool lake breeze.
I miss these places and their sents. Funny how much our memories can be triggered by them.
The stars shined brightest in Nevada, where when staying in Great Basin for three months and blessed with insomnia I could study them and their cycle with the moon. The full moon outshines the stars and illuminates the night. Creating a new monochromatic night of contrasting grey, black and white, a flashlight is not needed for nighttime exploration with the bats. As the moon wanes again, the stars come out to shine like nothing else to the new moon. They light up the sky that's finally theirs but leave the world in darkness. Reds and blues seen in the silver dance of the Milky Way stay only until the moon takes over again.
~~a tired wistful rambling of the mountains I now miss
