Tag: simple pleasures
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Some moments stay with you mostly because of how they smelled. My father smelled of shaved wood, a trace of his shed behind the house that never quite left his sleeves. He was a carpenter by trade, and in that shed he could make almost anything — a doll’s house once, painstaking and exact, every…
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There’s a walk we do often enough that I could probably describe it with my eyes closed, and yet it’s never quite the same walk twice. It starts in the village, just past the church, where we turn left onto a path that used to be a road, or maybe a railway — nobody seems…