When I was about 11 my aunt bought a historic home (built 1885; it’s about a block from the Hunt Morgan house pictured above) in Lexington and moved my grandmother along with her. I spent some portion of my summers visiting my grandmother throughout my childhood and into college; sometimes as much as half of it.
The guest room in the historic home was upstairs at the back of the house and two walls had windows all the way across. No one had air conditioning in those days (and yes, we all survived to adulthood 🙂 ), aside from the occasional window unit, so windows stayed open pretty much all summer. Every morning I woke up to breezes wafting in from all those windows and breathed in the scent of Kentucky. It never smelled the same in Michigan, where I grew up, and I’ve never caught the same scent anywhere else I’ve lived.
Lately we’ve had some lovely weather that’s let us turn off the AC and throw open the windows. Today I’ve been inhaling that summer-in-Kentucky perfume every time I’m near a window and remembering all those summer days, waking up to drink in that aroma before wandering to the kitchen where the enticing scents of bacon and coffee filled the air each morning.
Feeling grateful just to breathe it in and remember…