The smell of Spring.

We live in a quiet neighborhood. Well, let me rephrase. With the exception of incessant barking dogs and the distant wail of sirens, we live in a quiet neighborhood. People are usually in by dark, blinds drawn and doors locked.

We too are quiet people—quiet people who work late. Which means the process of preparing dinner happens even later. This often results in barbecuing in the moonlight. Usually I’m alone. Free to stand, think and enjoy the smell of whatever critter Cristi has marinated, rubbed down or seasoned.

But last night, over the fence and one house down, I saw another neighbor standing over the Weber around 9 PM. Tongs in hand, smoke softly rising from the vent in the lid. Whatever he was making smelled great. I felt a tinge of camaraderie toward a person I’d never met. Together we were filling the air with the smell of Spring.

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