(last October in Denver)
Last week I woke up to that first smell of "Fall". The way I define it is that wet smell in the air that just lingers long enough to leave a memory. It was the smell I would walk to the bus stop in elementary school with. It was the smell my sister and I would brave those early, dark mornings on our way to seminary. It was the smell those crisp mornings in Rexburg when my nose would turn pink from the wind. The other morning, it was the smell of having a quick bowl of oatmeal on the patio while these city streets were still quiet. I love the way smells bring back and create memories. It's almost like this magic scrapbook we always have on hand; one that can take us back to a different place and time instantly.