Over at Mrs. Disciple this morning we’re exploring the Five Senses. What a delightful way to settle in to what is quickly becoming real winter here in the Midwest. We’ve had a good long run of fall. I can’t complain. But snow this weekend . . . I just can’t. It’s not making this list of favorite sensory experiences. (Though the sound of snow. The not sound of snow. It is one of God’s better works. I will love it. When I’m not driving.)
I ate an everything bagel this morning. With cheese. Loads of cheese. I chased it down with a homemade almond cookie topped with lemon curd. Mundane tastes, maybe. (Except homemade lemon curd. That is no ordinary cookie filling. It is the stuff of gods.)
But mundane food works for me. For the last year and a half, food has made me sick. It’s only the past two months I’ve gotten to enjoy eating. So, I enjoy it. I especially enjoy cheese, my favorite food group, because that was one thing I could not have at all. And a bagel? Gluten was/is totally out. The cookie? I think perhaps I am enjoying sugar way too much. But mundane, daily food is a good thing I took for granted. Now, my sense of taste appreciates it like the sunrise after a storm.
I know it will return to mundane some day. It’s the way of our finite existence that we find something miraculous one day and common the next. I think maybe that’s how God keeps us aware that what awaits us surpasses any wonder we’ve ever known. Or any taste.
My favorite smell is my daughter. True story. When she sails into our home, the sweetness of tea roses and a hint of patchouli waft in around her. I just want to breath her hair, like I did when she was a newborn. She’s a soapmaker. So generally, she just smells good. I get to smell tea roses when my daughter comes over. And breathe in the aroma of her lovely heart while my nose gets a treat. And recognize in that smell that she’s making her own life and her own dreams. And her own soap.
“You want to come with me?” For years, that was the sentence I uttered to my kids whenever I had to go somewhere. Not that they had a lot of choice. They were kids; they came with. Later, they had a choice, and they had their own things to do and places to go.
Now, I hear it from them. And it’s the best sound. They are choosing to invite me into their lives, their cars, their conversations, their little errands and big events. They don’t have to, but they do. The roles have changed, and their options are open, but they choose to keep me at the top of that list. I may take cheese and bagels for granted one day, but not this. Never this.
My soft as a kitten blue blanket, wrapped around me against a chilly November night, sitting with a real cat curled on my lap (claws in), purring and snuggling against my knee. Watching old 80’s TV with my kid and my man, close together on the soft leather couch. That’s what we’re doing this month. Not sure what is the best part of that. But this blanket. It probably wins.
I admit right here to the sin of covetousness. I visited my sister this summer and marveled at her bird feeder pole with a half dozen different feeders on it and a gorgeous resident Orchard Oriole. I wanted that pole. I needed that pole.
My husband, being the amazing man he is, got me one for my birthday this fall. He posted it right outside the living room window where I work. Now it’s my turn to watch the antics of red-bellied woodpeckers, the majesty of cardinals, and the acrobatics of nuthatches a few feet away. I’m not sure I get as much work done as I used to.
But these amazing creations of God are right there, allowing me into their world for the price of a bit of birdseed and patience. Plus, I get to trade stories with my sister. We have the privilege of bonding over a black-capped chickadee. And that is a blessing.
What are your favorite senses of fall?