I was walking in old San Antone, actually. Passed the flowers, at one point. I rounded one corner, and here it is, almost at the front door of Scorpio time, I was hit with the aroma of fresh-blooming Gardenia. I think that’s it.
A little later, I was following the train tracks towards another destination. I could make out the distinct smell of cinnamon – from a bakery. There was a sharp vanilla, or pepper tang to the bakery’s smell, though, a little layer that I couldn’t immediately identify. I peeled out of my blue (Hawaiian) print shirt, and I sniffed again. I’m not absolutely sure, but I think the cinnamon and vanilla were laced with carmelized sugar, not quite a burnt smell, just a pungent underpinning to the cinnamon.
While the picture of the flowers is from some distant past, that was a mirror of what they looked like in the achingly blue sky. Haven’t seen sky like that since, like, Monday.
