There are stories in the grass: of voles passing, of rabbits and crickets, of droppings and tracks and scent molecules you and I could never perceive. Chet reads them all like you and I read the daily paper.
He turns the page and answers my call. Chet Baker, we have something for you to smell.
Why, that is delightful, Phoebe! Of course I could smell it as soon as I came out of the house, but it is nice to have it up close, right out of the flower tube.
May I smell it again?
Mmmmm. That is delicious. It reminds me of...hm. I do not have a word for it, but I know I smelled it before. Perhaps last year, in August, and the year before.
Tuberose?
Yes, thank you. It is tuberose. The basis for many perfumes. You are not a perfume-wearing woman, but you should know that. Tuberose is in the agave family. It grows from bulbs, which you must pull up every fall and store in the basement.
Yes, I know, Chet Baker, and we need to do that very soon, before it freezes and the leaves wither away and it's hard to find the bulbs.
I will help you do that. I never tire of the scent. I am a sensual dog. They say that dogs like awful stinky smells, and that is true, but we also appreciate smells you think are beautiful. We have a much wider smell palette than you do.
We may not agree on the loveliness of green coyote poo as a body cream (trust me, it is lovely!) but we definitely agree on tuberose. Right, Mether?
Right, Chet Baker. You good boy, you. Give us a kiss! Mbwah!
That is the kissingest woman.
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