Must and Mold

When I step into the tack room to fetch Mopey’s bridle and girth, I smell leather and a wonderful musty smell. It makes me happy every time and while I do sneeze at lots and lots of things, I don’t sneeze in the tack room.

The scent always takes me back to two places.  The first one is summer and a storage shed inwhich were kept old inner tubes, beach umbrellas, and various rubber rafts.  This was at Lake Michigan were my parents and I used to stay at a friend’s cottage.  The shed was underneath the walkway to the beach that bridged the dunes and it was a little scary, but then anything dark and dank is alittle scary.  No scary monsters ever came out of it, however, and rubber inner tubes are great for bobbing up and down in the water. 

The second place that’s brought happily to mind is the happy place in my head that I found as a kid and my kid-ish excitement at the prospect of going horseback riding. At times, horseback riding occupied huge amounts of my brain and so I fantasized about it for hours on end.  And when you’re a kid, you can do that.  It really keeps you going and does a fair job of standing in for the real thing since the veil between reality and imagination is so thin.

Mold is the smell of adventure and possibility.

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