I was watering a plant. I water this plant every weekend. Yet, for some reason, I leaned in close this evening as I did so. Something different happened: I smelled the plant. You know the smell that I’m talking about: soil and living green leaves engaged in their oxygen purifying gift to us. That smell took me back to my childhood in a rural area: an instant of nostalgia that unexpectedly paused my evening.
I wish my evenings paused like that more often. How can one water a plant and not smell its scent? Are we really that busy?