I went for a walk in the snow today. I looked out the window and saw a thin white blanket on the ground. It wasn't that cold out, but I decided to dress up anyway. There's just something about a walk in the snow that requires tuques, mittens, a scarf, and boots. There wasn't a lot of snow on the sidewalk so I decided to walk on people's lawn instead. I felt the need to see my tracks and hear the sound of my boots hitting the snow. I could smell wood burning away in stoves and fire places. I could see smoke coming out of chimneys. It reminded me of home, of hot chocolate and warmth. Which is odd because mom making a fire in the wood stove somehow always resulted in a smoke filled house, open windows, and me sitting on the couch, watching television in my winter jacket along with the rest of my winter apparel.
I remember winter walks with my mom. I remember the smell of chimney smoke as we walked by every other house. I remember looking up at her and saying '' Hey Mama, it smells like winter ay?''
Every season seems to have its own scent. Every person does not use the same scent to describe a season. To me, the smell of rain is the spring. Sun tan lotion and barbecues smell like the summer. Pumpkin Pie, a roasting turkey, bread in the oven, and basically any type of home cooked meal smells like the fall. Maybe it's because mama used to cook a lot in the fall or maybe it's because of Thanksgiving. I'm not quite sure. But these are my scents and every time they pass me by, I remember.
Walking today, snow on the ground, I could see my breath. I could smell the chimney smoke. I found myself remembering. I found myself whispering ''Hey Mama, it smells like winter ay?''
