I don't know about you, but sometimes smoke gives me a stomach ache. When people grill during the summer months, especially around the 4th of July, I feel like I can't escape how (un)comfortable smoke (of any kind) makes me.
With wood burning in my backyard, the smoke smells a little better than coal, or gas does. When I can put aside how my body feels and just focus on the smell, I can actually bring myself to enjoy it. The nuances between the different types of wood become more clear as more smoke taps on my nose. Its grain, soft to hard wood make its way unto my path of awareness, and mixes with the elements of my wondering mind.
I like the smell of soft wood best. Red.
With gas stoves that I use to make my breakfast (normally eggs), I almost always start to panic a little when I first ignite one of the the burners. If I miss those few initial CLICK-CLICK-CLICKs before the flame, and zoom straight to "mid-flame", my body can normally tell when the natural-gas is on despite my inability to taste it.
I can feel it as it creeps along my tongue and as it seeps into my lungs.
With coal chucked onto the bottom of a grill, I can feel them burning, almost compressing me along all my sides. I can taste it, I can hear it pop (not quite like wood, but close enough to bring out my interested ears), I can see how my time has past and how much I have left of these tiny burning blocks of compressed carbon.
The colour: sheen-black to dusk-gray to heather-gray to burning-white ash entrance me enough to make it hard to walk away.
With gunpowder poppers, I get excited. Every nerve ending under my skin feels alive. I know gunpowder can kill__ or be used to kill us, but when gunpowder flicks to life, I feel my interest swelling in my chest. It's fast working. It propels me back to when I was four, when poppers were harder to come by; having had no money of my own at the time, but now I could legally go pick up a pack at the 99 Cents+ store for little over $2.
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