Walking the dogs last week during a break in the rain, I realized the Linden Trees had bloomed. I did not notice because I was looking for them or even looking up, but rather because I walked into an invisible cloud of their scent that stopped me in my tracks. There were Linden Trees on my old walk route by the yellow house and I would slow my pace as I approached them. I have not imprinted their placement on my new path, though to tell the truth the dogs and I are more flexible than we used to be and do not follow the same route every day. Because of this, the intoxicating sweetness of their scent is always a delightful surprise, like running into a former lover and finding that all that's left is fond memories.
I'm working on a project for a friend and there's a large Linden Tree in the front yard of her house. I stop under it as I come and go and close my eyes and breathe. The smell is so sweet; it is as thick as syrup and I have the feeling that if I open my mouth and stick out my tongue I would taste it. I never remember when the trees are going to bloom and I never remember when the scent fades. So each year, I drink them in, thrilled that they have bloomed, grateful as long as it lasts.
