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Show To Every Season i With the car windows j down in summer, it is almost ' possible to smell the way home. In the late afternoon on Main Street in Park City, the scent of grills warming up, of restaurants prepping dinners with the kitchen door open, of onion rings and pizzas, signals the end of the day. Heading down the street to the car, past the smell of pool tables and beer, we usually forget all those errands that were going to be i done after work and decide i instead on a quick swim at j Rockport. On Park Avenue, the diesel fumes from the ; cement trucks are overwhel-i overwhel-i ming. Park City smells disturbingly city-like, but it passes quickly and is soon replaced with sage and mountains. This is the clean ' air we have come to thrive on, unless the wind is blowing in from the dump, which always smells like it is smouldering. Route 40 smells like an expressway and old cars pulling too much weight especially on Friday afternoons. after-noons. We try not to breathe too deeply until Brown's Pass where the sage takes over and we really feel 'out West. ' If we were blindfolded, blind-folded, we could drive that road without slowing down until smelling the cool water running in the Weber River. Sometimes around there we pick up the scent of skunk, which even when fresh, is better than diesel. Past the fresh cut hay, looking for a parking place along the lake, there is Coppertone on the breeze. If it's at all close to dinner, the park smells like a giant picnic. There is too. this week, the distant scent of burning rangeland at Echo. On the way home, there is the distinct odor of mink feed. If at first we turned our noses up rounding that bend, now it just means we are on the last leg of the journey. When the west wind blows down the driveway from the barn, our driveway smells like horses, but if it's blowing from the east, the scent of aspen and pine comes down from Hoyt's Peak. The dogs stretch and mosey over to meet us casting a quick whiff about he car to see if we've been anywhere interesting. They follow us out to the garden and wait patiently while we root around among the pungent odors of tomato plants, sweet peas and marigolds. In this season, only the most immune of noses doesn 7 twitch at the smell of fresh hay bales or frying trout. NC |