Thursday, December 30
My nose loves: Coffee grounds. Daffodils. The first smell of winter in the air; it’s usually in late September/early October and no matter where I am physically, suddenly my heart is spirited away to the street where I grew up.
My tongue loves: Fresh raspberries. Peanut butter (the real stuff). Garlic. So so much garlic. Maple syrup. Rain.
My eyes love: A bulldog’s underbite and waddle walk; makes me laugh every time. A wide open field of grass glowing vibrant green in the sunlight. And it seems cliche, but seeing somebody — anybody — fully, truthfully, earnestly smile. It’s infectious.
My ears love: The glup-glup-glup when you pour the first glass of wine. Summer evening crickets and cicadas chirping. Banjo music. Violin music; put it with the banjo and they call it a fiddle. Put ’em together and you’ve got a happy Sarah (“you can take the girl out of Missouri…”). Also slide guitar.
My skin loves: The sun. On my face, arms, hands; in summer, winter, spring, fall. The sensation of every cell waking, opening, attuning to warm rays makes me suddenly and profoundly aware of how lovely it is to be alive.