the one near the billiard room. The brass doorknobs and switch plates for the push buttons that turned the lights on and off, when freshly polished, exuded their own special odor. Just like you want your child to look clean and combed, a pleasure to behold, so I liked the brass to shine. Polishing was work, but it also was caressing, be it doorknobs, or the brass handles on the generous pull- out-drawers of the linen closet. There were many: big round ones on the entrance doors, the medium-sized ones on the doors, the small ones on bookcases, cupboards and sideboard, and the satiny, large brass touch plate on the swinging door between the kitchen and dining room. The garden awakened one’s sense of smell depending on the seasons and, with all those windows, one’s awareness of nature was increased. Thus, one would notice that in Illinois, some seasons might be longer or shorter than the calendar indicated. The old lilac bush, seen behind a mangy evergreen in the old Wasmuth photograph, was still there 70 years later and came back to life after I “edited” it in 1974. Spring after spring, it brought such joy and scent, always on Mother’s Day, always on the days we would have the Olmsted Society’s fundraiser tours, bringing some 1,200 people in one day, or during gatherings, garden walks or garden parties. On warm spring evenings, we would have dinner with the windows opened, enjoying the cross ventilation that carried its lilac scent.
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