On the morning walk with comfort dog, Gabe the Great, I was happy, finally, to notice no smell of dead-skunk-in-the-middle-of-the-road, as the song goes. Black and white fur lay in a desiccating patch along a center black line on the highway. My apologies if your olfactory sense is such that even suggesting it, I invoke the unpleasant memory. I do not believe it works this way, but some of us possess rare gifts for heightened senses. Memory, conversely, can tie a certain smell or fragrance to a person.

After my grandmother passed away, her particular scent found its way into my bedroom. Waking from sleep, not exactly unnerved, I felt rather comforted. Had I been dreaming of her? There, where senses abound, though I couldn’t recall the dream? Or, hearing my name called in the night, I have startled awake only to find no one there. Is this normal? I have called you by name, reads a Hebrew scripture, Isaiah 43:1, which begins, Fear not, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by name. You are mine. That we may pair sense of smell and that of hearing brings comfort. On to sight—

Jeff and I cannot recall a more beautiful and lush late spring and summer. Feasts for the eyes, indeed. The deep, blue-green of early spring grass; a heavier blossom season that usual in the orchard; the burgundy-colored trunks of bur oaks before leafing; sun-split cumulus clouds in cerulean-blue sky; newborn calves cavorting on the neighbor’s ranch, while frisky fawns chase after their mothers; and just yesterday, five great antlered bucks wandered into the front meadow, having caught the scent of doe, I suspect. The Boys, we call them. Beauty abounds. Creation and Spirit groan in tandem.

A favorite soup can now be made anew. Crookneck squash, simply cooked and mixed with vegetable broth and butter then blended, is the taste of summer, I declare. Frozen batches are carried to the freezer for later. Jeff’s asparagus patch provided a second taste sensation. The apple, plum, and cherry bushes rustle for attention and inclusion.

I conclude with the sense of touch, in my view the most grounding of the five. In Wyoming, from the Big Horn Mountains westward, extreme drought has provided excess fuel. Currently over 100,000 acres and more burn on this hot, windy day in August. Lucky for us in the Black Hills, our county’s drought is officially over. Jeff has recorded more than twelve inches of precipitation since July 1, the usual measurement for the entire year. This includes snowfall, where generally, ten inches of snow translates to one inch of rainfall. A 5:1 ratio is used if the snow is heavy and wet, as in springtime. We experienced a hard winter, weather-wise. Cold-wise. The warmth and feel of a favorite woolen sweater bring heart-smiles.

Our neurology depends on familiarity, connection, and the hope of well-being—if not the actual state. How the nervous system and the five senses are interconnected will be my topic for next time. Meanwhile, an elderly friend had to be admitted recently to our local clinic for intravenous hydration. Do stay hydrated!