smells like wanakee

It's foggy this morning. And rainy. And it's beautiful.

Standing at the door when hubby was leaving, I was breathing deeply. Hub said, "they need to bottle this smell for cologne. That'd be a sexy smell." I said, "you'd just make all the girls wanna go camping with you." He laughed and said, "just one girl." [grin]

In some of our circles we have a saying - "smells like Wanakee" - which is the church summer camp we've all gone to growing up. It did often smell like this, especially in the morning. But I have come to learn that it is not a smell necessarily specific to camp. (Maybe it's the farther away I get from my camp years.) We just have so many trees that you breathe in and smell leaves, pine needles, wet grass, tree bark. A recipe for serenity.

(It's an allergen's paradise, really, but in the moment, we don't pay attention to that.)

Mr. 5yo is still sick. Last night, he hit 102.8, and he doesn't do fevers well. He sleeps often, but not well, and fits the delirium profile exactly. This morning he's at 101.8, which is still high but enough of a dip that he thinks he's feeling much better. There was very little sleep last night. (And the night before.)

I am so grateful for these morning-quiet moments that give me a chance to (literally) breathe in something outside my own situation, to pull me back heavenward for even 20 seconds, a memory I can pull out of the card file later for a moment of closed eyes, deep breath, and reminders of grace.