Dry

The landscape grows sere, and the smell of dry brown grass fills the air. The scent of it persists even when night's cooling comes. I'm glad it isn't the smell of smoke. When it gets this hot the only smoke we'd be likely to smell would be from a wildfire. When it gets this hot nobody in town wants to go out and fire up their barbecue. Thus no smell of charcoal and roasting flesh competes with the smell of dry brown grass. But the air indoors was so arid today that I had to boil a pot of water (there bing no humidifier handy), and I was tempted to put a bit of extract of some sort in it—vanilla perhaps— just to make a change from the relentless smell of that dry brown grass. Instead, I decided to wait and put the sprinkler on my brown lawn once full night has fallen. Then the air will smell of wet brown grass instead of dry brown grass. Ah, summer.

( Sunday Verse )