Last week’s morning walks were full of smells. Each day I noticed something lovely. I didn’t know exactly what it was since multiple options surrounded me, but the aroma was beautiful. Then there were the scents of the marshlands at low tide. Not the most pleasant aroma, however it did carry with it wonderful memories. As I visited family over the past few weeks, smells reminded me of shared experiences. The layered, intricate smells of old familiar buildings and homes are not sweet like botanicals, but they can be just as beautiful. Then there is the smell and taste of food! On the drive home, as I munched on a sourdough pretzel from my hometown, my husband commented on how he has never acquired a taste for pretzels like I have. As a child, after church each Sunday, Dad let me eat a soft pretzel from the downtown newsstand on the way home. I also remember Mom and Dad taking me to the local bakery to learn how to roll and shape our own pretzels. Oh, the smell of fresh pretzels! I wonder if I would love them nearly as much if my family hadn’t gifted me with these memories.
There is a wonderful children’s book on pretzels and prayer. Can’t recall the exact title and I know I gave the book away a few years ago, but I can still remember the reasoning behind the way pretzels are twisted for baking.
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