No place like the south at night. On my own front porch I can smell during any given evening- spicebush...an aroma like toasted coconut which has intertwined with the honeysuckle that winds up over the wooden pillars. Humidity, too, and this brings out the sweet smell of Mimosa trees. Add my neighbour Robert's steaks hissing hickory sparks on the grill across the street and it's heaven. I wish we could bottle the stuff and peddle it to disgruntled, hollow -souled terrorists.
Shoot. You just can't stay mean when the very air smells like summer and forgiveness and home. You sit in the porch swing - your heart turning over with the sheer prettiness of a red sunset...God has pulled up along side you one more time and cut the engine. You wait for him to speak.
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