Follow Your Nose by David Grayson
It was a big and golden morning, and Sunday to boot, and I walked down the lane to the lower edge of the field, where the wood and the marsh begin. The sun was just coming up over the hills and all the air was fresh and clear and cool. High in the heavens a few fleecy clouds were drifting, and the air was just enough astir... to waken the hemlocks into faint and sleepy exchanges of confidence.
It seemed to me that morning that the world was never before so high, so airy, so golden. All filled to the brim with the essence of sunshine and spring morning—so that one’s spirit dissolved in it, became a part of it. Such a morning! Such a morning.
From that place and just as I was I set off across the open land.
It was the time of all times for good odors—soon after sunrise——before the heat of the day had drawn off the rich distillations of the night.
In that keen moment I caught, drifting, a faint but wild fragrance upon the air,and veered northward full into the way of the wind. I could not at first tell what this particular odor was, nor separate it from the general good odor of the earth; but I followed it intently across the moor-like open land. Once thought I had lost it entirely, or that the faint northern airs had shifted, but I soon caught it clearly again, and just as I was saying to myself, "I've got it, I’ve got it!”—for it is a great pleasure to identify a friendly odor in the fields—I saw, near the bank of the brook, among ferns and raspberry bushes, a thom-apple tree in full bloom.
“So there you are!” I said.
I hastened toward it, now in the full current and glory of its fragrance. The sun, looking over the taller trees to the east, had crowned the top of it with gold, so that it was beautiful to see; and it was full of honey bees as excited as I.