Thursday, August 23, 2007
The Smell of Purple
My family has long been amused by my sensitive nose and equally inquisitive mind, almost as if it is a laughing matter to be endowed with the extremities of both. But how else is one to manage life if one is not allowed to follow one's nose? Where else would one find adventure than in a brownish scent, dank and dark and dangerous, or in the bliss of a rosy waltz, perhaps too filled with the bubbles of perfume that dissipate all too soon into the atmosphere. Even so, today as my busy walk was interupted by a tickle of air wild with the scent of ripe grapes I was reminded that one particular hue is mine to sniff out with all dedication, regardless of the so-called thrill of a varied experience: a narrow and confusing mottly of mixtures to begin with, but a royal and Heavenly path full of promise and fine taste and delight, edged with more than just a hint of beauty. Indeed, in is a Heavenly fragrance, deep and bursting with mystery, sweet as a wild grape.
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2 comments:
I love your poetic writing... and what kind of wild grapes do they have in New England; the wild grapes I know are less than sweet - after a hard frost one can get them into their mouth without their face shriveling to the size of a dried pea (quite amusing since the skull doesn't change size) from the sourness/bitterness of them, but even after a frost I wouldn't use the word sweet.
Perhaps being Concord Grapes they are not originally wild, but as they grow alongside the road and no one else seems to notice them, I consider them fair game. And they are sweet, even in September, or they were sweet until the dry heat of our weather rather shriveled them... instead of them doing so to my face.
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