We plunge into the cool shade of the pines and oaks that line
some parts of the path. I inhale deeply and recognize another
trademark of summer – the array of smells. The countless miles of
greenery around me have a strong scent – sharp, almost bitter,
but slightly sweet. I’ve never been able to describe it well, but as
the pine needles crunch under my feet, the tangy scent
overwhelms me and I realize that it is simply the smell of the earth,
growing and changing and constantly creating new life in
thousands of forms.
We reach the end of the driveway and come to a stop at the gate.
The green paint that covers the metal is rusty in some places, and
in others, the paint has rubbed away to show the former layer of
faded red. The family that lived here many years ago put this gate
here. I imagine it was once shining and new, but I like it better how
it is now. Creaky and ancient.
Most of the concrete underneath the gate is now covered with
layers of dirt and pine needles, but a small bit of it emerges in the
corner of the path. If I look closely, I can see initials