My house in the country is tiny. It was originally built as the summer kitchen on my family's farm. Even after a good deal of renovation and sandblasting, the woodwork and rafters still smell faintly of two centuries of cooking. I find this comforting. Now, on summer evenings, I lie quietly on a sofa in the summer kitchen beside the open window. I watch the fireflies light across a field of alfalfa. It is totally peaceful and I'm perfectly happy. A gentle breeze blows across my face carrying the scent of the vegetables and herbs growing just beneath the window. The scent is fresh and green and wonderful.