Lulu

I miss the honeysuckle scented air, perhaps it’s ever so special because it bursts out of the crisp spring air like a harmonic symphony and instantly summer vibes saturate the steamy surroundings. The citrus plants also swell oh so boisterously like a preamble to the honeysuckle eruptions sweetening things up a bit. No remnant aromatics wafting around these days. At least I’ve got dried oregano wafting in the kitchen, and it transports me to years past where my gams were put to good use on thirsty footpaths of Hellas and often thrashed the overhangs of oregano bushes where crickets suspended their chirping until I passed. I’ve got heirloom tomatoes ripened and ready for harvest with oregano dry bits eager to be rubbed between fingers and sprinkled over thin slices of the distinguished umami flavor of an August tomato. And I got this adorable Lulu lemon to admire…just thinking about a lemon stirs up the air around me, I can even envision a dainty white blossom enveloping. Not quite synesthesia, but something of sorts.

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