woodsmoke

it is said by ....somebody, that the sense of smell is the most powerful of senses and a simple odour can trigger a memory long gone

someone around here has an old fashioned fireplace and they use it in winter. and the smell of woodsmoke drifts through the neighbourhood, mingled with the chill of winter air.

and i am sitting at my window at 5.30 on a 10 degree sunday evening listening to a warren zevon cd playing softly and wondering whether i have the energy to make a full dinner, or if only a sandwich would do and i smell the woodsmoke.

and i am sent back thirty years or more:

to the pile of woodblocks in the box in the lean-to by the passionfruit vine
to using the small axe to cut kindling
to the pine cones collected from the trees behind our place
to the lighting of the fire and the sibling critics who were alwys sure you'd got it wrong
to the secret timing of putting on the first big blocks so that they would feed rather than smother the flames.
to staring at the fire which was often more hypnotic and interesting than the images flickering on the tv screen.
to burning bread over the embers and calling it toast

i remembered all of this and started to cry.

these happy pills are doing me no good at all