Reason #653 I'm Happy To Live In Iowa

Last month I was driving home alone late one night. It was pitch black, and I had the radio turned up loud so I could sing along and stay awake. It was one of those insular moments -- nothing to see outside, nothing to hear but the radio, not much on my mind.

Then suddenly I was enveloped in something. It seeped into my brain, and at first I only processed it as something that smelled familiar. I hadn't quite reached awareness of what I was smelling though.

I inhaled deeply and suddenly I was in the warm, bright sun surrounded by vivid colors. That thing I was smelling? It's the smell of freshly overturned soil warmed by a long day's sun. It was all around me, filling me.

This is the smell that let me know it's time to put things in the ground, the things that will feed my family. This is the smell that tells me that winter's over and light and heat are here to stay (at least for their season). This is the smell that reminds me of my connection to my farmer grandfather. This is the smell of my home in spring.

When I take time to remember my blessings, this smell is one of them.