Half Dome

Mr S and I take a lovely walk around Mirror Lake, about six miles round trip, nothing too steep or strenuous. Half Dome looms above. Heart-stopping views of the mountains, steamy ferny bogs, darker drier forest, open rocky areas, the sightings of early wildflowers, one brilliant yellow Western Tanager, and always the sound of rushing water, the air cold and alive with the healing essence of granite and snowmelt. And under it all, suddenly the incomparable tones of hot dry pine needles--the smell of camping, of woods in summer--and I can't open my lungs enough--I have to breathe it all in, store it against a time when breath may not come so easily. "There isn't an app for smell," says Mr S. So we must remember with our cells, with our whole being.