Making sense of summer

The mind, embodied.

A coherent and understandable idea “makes sense.” When I’m trying to “make sense” of something, I think about it. Making sense seems to take place in the mind.

And yet my brain’s constant narration quiets when I focus on my sensory experience — sight, hearing, smell, etc. My senses put me in direct contact with the world around me. From this perspective, making sense happens in the body.

1. Lady of Shalott 2. Ketchup & Mustard

Smell

• The scent of a rose might trigger grief or joy. I never know which one.

• Portland is also called “The Rose City.” We have an International Rose Test Garden, a Rose Festival with parades, floral floats, and an annual Rose Queen. Roses climb neighborhood telephone poles, bloom in sidewalk strips, and line freeways.

• Roses were my Dad’s favorite flower. He taught me to prune roses when I was 9. Whenever he visited in June, we’d walk my neighborhood, crossing streets for whichever rosebush was blooming most extravagantly. We tried to identify the cultivars: Double Delight, Sutter’s Gold, Tropicana. He lik…