Then it drifts towards me, a foul odor of unknown origin. I furrow my brow, tighten my lips. Instinctively, my body defends itself from this pungent assault. I search for the source as my mind deciphers the data from my nose. Fish. Decay. Mold. Algae. I note the millfoil gathered atop the water as my ears hone on a large bull frog. The canal always goes green in the heat and I assume the musty smell is the canal itself or perhaps the Millstone River that runs to the right of me. The odor passes (or I pass through it) and I am once again enjoying the walk.
Then it drifts, more fervent and I spy a dead mole. Perhaps the accidental drop of a flying hawk, the mole looks lie its sleeping BUT it smells like what it is: DEAD. Anubis nods. DEAD.
My thoughts drift to the evening before when the Game Warden, AKA the buddhist, AKA my spouse rushed to close our bedroom window because one of our more secretive domain residents, a skunk, had left us with tearing eyes and mouths tasting musk.
A thought enters my mind: Life truly does stink.
Not in the 'oh poor me, why can't I catch a break way'; but truly olfactory. Many of our bodily functions are a bit rank to put it politely. But it is life- doing what life does- which is to evolve and change. None of us are flowers, but they say you should stop and smell the roses. My advice is to stop and smell death. An olfactory alarm that time is ticking.
Do not a waste a single moment.
