I’m going to ramble for a minute, so I hope you all can forgive me.

There are two scents in this world that I love above all others. The first is the smell of warm cinnamon baked into something delicious, like a fresh apple pie or a bowl of oatmeal, and the second is the smell of a winter’s eve after a snow storm.

The latter scent was something I experienced tonight, and the sensation was so profound I felt compelled to share it. It’s a clear, fresh scent, cold and pure. As I breathe it into my lungs it’s like I’m standing at the peak of a mountain, where the atmosphere is silent and calm. The air is biting against my flesh, and it sends small tingles through my throat and nostrils with every breath.

In addition to the fresh, crispness of the air, there’s also a slight smoky element to it as the denizens of my neighborhood make good use of their fireplaces. In my mind I can see them, some individuals, some groups, basking near their hearths while the flickering lights from the flames cast shadows across the floor.

In that one shining moment, scent joined with sight, sound, and touch to capture what is only a small piece of the puzzle of what makes winter wonderful.

I just wanted to share that with all of you. Have a wonderful evening :)