There’s not a wind
but whispers thy name;
not a scent that beneath the moon,
but tells a tale of thee…
~Edited and adapted excerpt
from Bryan Proctor
As I opened the door to go out and close up the greenhouse, I could smell the scent of a wood burning fire wafting through the garden. All around me the darkness was descending uncommonly quiet and still except for a slow trickle of water falling from one tier to another in the fountain. It had been a cloudy day, but now occasional breaks in the clouds were allowing glimpses of a waxing gibbous moon–the distinctive, ancient moon that was the only nocturnal companion for those who’d once lived a more solitary existence where I now stand. As I stopped to inhale the fragrance of autumn’s ripeness, the aroma of burning oak, and the scent of the damp soil, I was momentarily transfixed as images of pioneers moving west across the land passed before my mind’s eye. They were descendants of immigrants like my great-grandparents who came here in covered wagons from the east, and I reckon that maybe, just maybe, it’s echoes of their voices I yet hear whispering faintly in the winds that blow across the Texas prairies.
I love the aroma of wood smoke and the crunching sound of autumn leaves beneath my feet and the savory scents that fill the space between heaven and earth this time of year. When darkness lowers, the moon, if it’s up there, is a comforting presence in the night sky, and the long nights ahead become cozy times of nestling down in a comfy chair with a cup of hot chocolate or tea for warmth to dream, yes to dream, first that in some soon-to-come felicitous moment I’ll look out the window and witness the wondrous spectacle of snow and secondly that spring will come sooner than usual and be even more glorious than the last. Ah, but how the marvelous old moon makes dreamers out of us all!
But thanks be to God, who always leads us as captives in Christ’s triumphal procession and uses us to spread the aroma of the knowledge of Him everywhere. ~2 Corinthians 2:14 ✝
** Image via Pinterest
Such beautiful images you paint with your words Natalie! Thanks for sharing your gift.
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What a lovely compliment! I’m so glad you enjoy my words and thoughts. Blessings, N ❤
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We just had a nice fire in our wood stove today. What a nice way to think about it.
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Oh, I wish we had a fireplace or stove in our house. I’m glad you enjoyed my thoughts tonight. Blessings, Natalie 🙂
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Ohhhh such lovely nostalgic thoughts. Christmas season does that to me. Of course, it’s just not the same thing when it is stinking hot. I go into the mall and hear the Christmas music, see the decorations, feel the ooey gooey nostalgic feelings, and then… as soon as I open the door to leave the mall, and feel the heat… Poof, gone. Just like that.
Lovely Natalie.
🙂 ❤
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Thanks, Staci. Yes, Christmas does stir up all sorts of memories. And heat would definitely be a downer this time of year. I’m glad you enjoyed the post. ❤ 🙂
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I love to wander outside “catching that elusive scent of the season”—
I have two covered wagon chairs that belonged to my great great grandparents as they took a wagon train from Texas back east, settling in a rural area of Georgia which would one day grow up to be Atlanta. . .they are slat back chairs with woven seats—the legs are very short, sitting low as would be common for a wagon—I marvel at their story—the journeys they took and how in the world they ever made it to my possession—so yes, I have a Texas connection—
wishing you seasonal scents and joys!!!
cookie
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How cool is that Julie! You have a treasure in those chairs. I always marveled at the stories that I listened to as a child too. I love that we both have a Texas connection although I still think of myself as a California girl. Hugs and love, N ❤
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Beautiful. For me it is the smell of freshly mown grass in the summer and the gorgeous smells of spring and then as you said the smell of damp earth and burning wood. It tells me what season we are in. 😀
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You are so right, Raewyn. Smells do indeed tell us what the season is. And I love them all! Hugs, N ❤
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