huddled masses

Today was one of those days where the car was hot but the breeze blowing in the windows was chill and clean and smelt achingly fresh and of the ocean.

There is a tinge of salt and seaweed scent on the air almost everywhere in Nova Scotia - a reminder of the Atlantic that bubbles outside our doors and wends its way into our minds and thoughts and attitudes. Most people don't think about it, so ingrained is this breathing in of ocean tide and ocean current into their very beings, and only miss it when they move away, where the air smells different and the humidity is all wrong and the land under your very feet seems boxy and strange.

You can breathe better out here.

And today? Today, with the windows wide-open, letting out all the hot air out of my car and sucking in great draughts of fresh, sea-scented air - air with hints of lilacs just-coming-into-bloom and the crisp tang of newly mown grass?


Today I thought of people who live in cities, cities with more than two gas stations and food options galore, places that aren't asleep by ten o'clock, people that live concrete-brown and asphalt-grey lives - and realized that this minute?

This very minute?

Not jealous in the least.