I have only just returned from a holiday in the tropics which involved swimming in sublime turquoise ocean, sipping cocktails with a really good book and not having to make beds, clean or cook. But I tell you, this day – this Tuesday in the Schoolhouse with my cup of buddha’s tears and the smells of spring outside and old books inside and the sound of nothing but my keyboard taps and birds and no one calling for me. These few hours, with Maggie and Kel on their way and ideas to plot and things to write and much to discuss, this beats a tropical island any day.
I mean we all need a bit of tropical island at least once in our lives, but I need silence and friends more. I need them very, very often. And spring – I walked through the town this morning and it has definitely sprung. Gardens I didn’t know were even gardens have appeared. This is the exact time when having seasons is most splendid. Splendid is my word of the day. I feel it.
And I need the smell of home, that smell that you’d know even if someone blindfolded you and spun you around the earth ten times to muddle your sense of direction. I’d know my house, my sister’s house, my parent’s house, our farm, and this schoolhouse.
It’s like coming home after coming home. It makes me want to sing and skip, and write silly poems…
The Smell of Home
I smelled a smell
And the smell spoke to me,
“You’re happy and you’re well”, it said,
“You’re loved and you’re free.”
“Thank you kind smell” I said,
“I’ve missed you as I roam.
But now I’ve smelt you,
I know that I am home.”
That’s all. Happy spring, happy homes and a splendid, fragrant day to you all. xxx