A Nose for Winter: Podcast

I’m still working out the kinks in making the audio files easily accessible. Note in the right sidebar is a podcast feed link, although there’s not much there yet. Got to start some place.

This piece seems fitting–although with a foot of snow on the ground, except for the distinctive smell of the cold, the aromasphere of winter remains monochrome.

This essay aired on WVTF a few years back, and is found on page 210 of What We Hold In Our Hands: a Slow Road Reader.

A Nose For Winter[podcast]http://fragmentsfromfloyd.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/02/a-nose-for-winter3.mp3[/podcast]

5 Replies to “A Nose for Winter: Podcast”

  1. What an exciting adventure for Fragments as you pursue the unfolding realms of marrying your artistry to the ever-expanding world of technology!

    My only hope is that readers like me who cannot access the audio and video (yes…there are still some of us) because we are the “underserved” (undeserved) of the modern world still on dial-up–will still be able to read what you create. You are always a bright spot in my day and I would sorely miss your presence.

    You know, even third world countries have broadband and high speed Internet. Over the mountain from you, we remain buried in the Pleistocine Age and it looks like it will take an archeological miracle to open the door of modernity for us.

    Thank you for your beautiful outlook on life.
    Elora McKenzie

  2. I really liked hearing this read. A wonderful voice, too. It’s a different experience from reading it. Your voice is such a better speaking voice than mine, what a nice touch for this blog.



  3. Added to iTunes for the daily check on what’s happening in Check, Virginia.

    For anyone who is trying to do the same let me give a hint:
    Right click on the button and “copy link location”. Open iTunes and click on the “advanced” tab. Click on the “subscribe to podcast” and paste the address into the box that opens…Click OK…

    If you just want to copy and paste…

  4. I remember this lovely essay from Slow Road Home. One of your best. I love getting my memory jogged by smells, but it rarely happens out here in California, even though I have been here since 1968. Tennessee is still home.

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