Ah, the memories. When I was a kid, we had this big willow tree in the back garden. Most of the time, it just stood there, looking pretty. But once a year, the tree would drop its leaves quicker than a kid loses teeth. At those times – when the branches blanketed the whole back half of the garden – mowing the lawn became a two-man job.
My dad, who normally took care of the lawnmowing himself, would drag me out into the cold and hand me the mower. Of course, I complained at the time. But looking back, those are some of my fondest memories with my dad: him, pulling up the leaves to make a path for me; me, struggling to push the lawnmower in a straight line, deafened by its roar and secretly thrilled by the trail shaved
grass I left in my wake. As we worked, father and son, the air smelled just like this candle. That’s why it’s one of my favourites.
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