Time to make the donuts

I love the smell of donuts in the morning. I sometimes catch the smell of donuts wafting on the breeze on my daily walk up the hill to work. It took me a few years to realize where the smell was coming from. Koffee Kup bakery, purveyors of those scrumptious, plastic wrapped delicacies you see all across New England, is right there on Riverside Ave.

Aside from the pleasant smell and subsequent grumbling of my tummy, I am struck by how well the odor carries across town. What if it was a paper mill, and the smell was closer to rotten eggs than donuts? For that matter, the wood burning power plant is right around the corner from the donut factory. What else is floating through the air?

To tell the truth, I’m not all that concerned. I am intrigued, however, by the idea of one relatively small neighbor having such a large, yet subtle effect on the community around it. Does everyone notice this and just not mention it? Do they mention it in passing, but then forget about it? Does it go unnoticed by the concious mind, only to resurface in dreams and fragments of déjà vu?

Hmmm. All this talk about donuts is making me hungry.

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