Skip to main content

The smell of fall

The first thing I noticed when I got out of the car in the driveway of my Colorado cabin was the smell. It's a lovely, sweet melancholy scent. Fall is in the air. I don't really know what sweet melancholy smells like, other than to say there's something about it that puts you on notice that winter is just around the corner. It's a smell that tells you summer is over and it's going to get darker and colder very soon. But for now, it's autumn and it's glorious. The grass is golden and the trees and bushes are ablaze with yellows and reds, the wind blowing leaves about like a flurry of butterflies. There is no fall smell in Hawaii. In fact, Hawaii has it's own special smell, of tradewinds and salt water, foliage and flowers and moistness. They are mostly nice smells to be sure, but the smell of fall in the Colorado mountains is especially wonderful. Unfortunately, a photo will have to wait, since this computer at the library does not have a slot for my camera chip. Bummahs. Not that a photo could convey a smell, really....
One of the most obvious differences I've noticed between my new home and my old one is this: In Gunnison, there are lots of skinny people wearing lots of clothes. In Hawaii, there are lots of fat people wearing next to nothing. Here in Gunnison, it's all about flannel, polar fleece and hiking boots. Oh, and there are hats. Plenty of hats. In Hawaii, it's surf shorts, aloha shirts and slippahs. Although I did see that chubby, tatood girl in downtown Hilo last week wearing Uggs. Ugh! I guess she made an impression. I'm still visualizing the image in my mind's eye. Brutal.
I've just been here one night, but have managed to connect with and run into several old friends and acquaintances. That's the beauty of a small town and of working as a small town journalist. Both the job and town afforded me the opportunity to get to know just about everyone one here or to at least learn to recognize them enough to say howdy.
I spent last evening strumming my ukulele. With no TV in the house, it seemed like a good thing to do. And since nobody was there to hear me and dispute it, I can say that I sounded pretty good. The acoustics are great in there. The place is totally empty except for a futon pad and the kitchen table with a single chair. There are no troublesome couches, chairs or pictures on the walls to muddle the sound. I do have my iPod and a radio and so there are plenty of tunes to keep me company. I'm already planning a trip back here this winter. I'm thinking it would be nice to check on the place in early February and maybe do a little skiing, too. Maybe if I pull a few addition shifts at the winery I can swing it....
I'm now off to the hardware store to buy plastic and insulation for windows and pipes. I promise that photos will be coming soon. There's gotta be a computer in town that can upload my pics.
A hui hou. Aloha.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Mom

This is my beautiful mom. She died last Sunday. For those who knew her, my heart breaks with you. For those who did not, here's an introduction to the best confidante, role model and mother a girl could hope for in life. This is the obituary I'd planned to submit to the local paper, but have opted instead to publish here. Obituary: Beverly Todd Bev -- my mom -- was a longtime caregiver, advocate, and dear friend to countless elderly in South Salem. Hers was a kind and generous spirit. She devoted much of her life to the welfare of others, giving wholly of herself and doing so always with great affection and humor. She was born Beverly Marie Steinberger in Silverton, July 23, 1938, the first child and only daughter of Art and Marie Steinberger. Her brothers called her Bevvy Buns, a nickname she grew fond of and wore proudly within the family circle as an adult. Bev attended St. Paul’s Elementary School in Silverton, Silverton High School and Marylhurst Co...

Back at it

It's been some time since I've written. My mom died in February, and I haven't had the gumption to write much, other than a couple of feature stories for the paper and the occasional pithy email to a friend. Tonight, sitting in my favorite burger joint with a pile of fries in front of me, I dunk them into a deep pool of ketchup mixed with a hot sauce. That's how Mom liked 'em. My burger? The Spicy Hawaiian, a nod to my 808 connections. It's a brilliant combination of peppers and pineapple, a favorite on the Power Stop menu. I'm sure she'd have loved it, too. There's a bubbly beer with a lime in it. That's not a homage to anything. I just like beer. These past months, I've done little but work, search and apply for jobs. Two rejection letters have landed in my email this week. Search-and-apply has become a futile obsession. It's time for a break, at least until I hear back from all those applications still floating around out there. I am...

Goodbye Dan Fogelberg

Saturday started out as just another day to clean the house. Within a short time, however, I found myself on a mission; a mission of arachnid eradication. The spiders, for all their great bug-eating prowess, have a tendency to get a bit out of control in a place where there's no real winter. They're not only everywhere outside, but inside, too. I found webs with giant eight-leggers in corners, on the ceiling, hiding under window shades....everywhere! They were in places I vacuumed just two days before. Since the invasion of the beetles, the spiders have grown enormously fat and happy. So I sucked 'em all up. EEEEEEEEWWWWWW! I was none too keen on removing the vacuum bag. In addition to spider sucking, there was fun with fungi. What did the girl mushroom say to the boy mushroom? Gee your a fun-gi! Unfortunately, the prevailing fungus amongus was not shitakes or portabellos, but mold and mildew. Again.... eeeeeeeeewwwwww! I cleaned the top of the fridge, which was home to a n...