Stopping to Smell the Flowers

I was driving last night, and was sitting at a stoplight when it hit me. The scent. The smell. Where was it coming from? I wasn't wearing my glasses (bad Becca...I'm supposed to wear my glasses whenever I drive- I just usually don't...I can see mostly okay, its just instead of individual leaves, my eyes see a mass- that kind of eye sight issue, I can see stop signs and all...don't be worried for pedestrians or anything....) As I was saying I wasn't wearing my glasses so I really couldn't make out the perfect magnolia blossoms hanging heavy and romantically on the tree next to me- but I could smell them. Oh the smell.

I have fallen in love with the smell of magnolia. Even more than lilac. (Well, you know- at least for right now.)

We have four on our little block. Four. Four big beautiful bounties of blossom. For this all to brief moment, it makes me think of Anne. "They shouldn't call this lovely place the avenue, they should call it White Way of Delight."

Oh Anne-girl, I so agree.

(Two of the trees have flowers low enough for me to touch- but I've been (trying to be) really good about dreaming of stealing armloads to bring in.)



I gently pulled on this fair lady's branch so that I could soak in the smell. Its a fix. A glorious one. I think I'll have to go for another one in a bit. (I'm an addict. Openly.)

Ezra has been carrying fallen petals in his pocket so he can smell them throughout the day too. It runs in the family, I guess.


I read so very long ago, "I love the smell of flowers in the dark...you get hold of their soul then." Last night, so many years later, that quote came into my head- and filled me up...and its so true.
Damn L.M. Montgomery, you are good.