It was a balmy evening I pulled out my wool blanket laid it out under the tree in my front yard. I put together a platter with three cigars, the cutter, the butane lighter and a coffee cup with the fingers bit of whiskey. I am a light weight that will be too much for me. The smell alone can inebriate me.
My neighbor was outside visiting with a friend and I could hear the clip sounds of up and down noises of conversation without making out any words. The variety of human speech patterns were interesting.
There was a light breeze and the light was slowly dissolving around me. The branches not full of leaves yet made interesting shapes in the sky. On the tray were the three cigars in competition for my character’s main signature brand. The candidates were: Punch Rothschild about 4 dollars a cigar, White Owl Invincible about a 1.09 a cigar and Padron 1964 Hermoso 13.20 a cigar.
I had bought the Punch cigar in a pack so I planned to start with that in case I forgot how to light one and messed up. I only had one each of the other two. I had waited two weeks since the last time and listening to the jokes directed at me each time I talked about it before, everyone laughing saying I am developing a past time. Me laughing telling people I get why people do this and them teasing me mercilessly since everyone who knows me well knows something like a dalliance like this won’t change who I am. I am well aware of the dangers of this particular hobby. I have lost so many I loved in my life to tobacco.
I sat there a moment on my lawn watching the world go bye, I opened a sketchbook for serious notes on each one took a huge sip of water and marveled how my brain was actually completely empty in that moment ready to experience new things.
There was brief moment thinking about my morning hike with my son and the work I had accomplished that week. I hugged my knees to myself then looked down at the sketchbook the wind blew open to a sketch of my son that morning. I mark the page I want to use for notes with my pencil case and take a sip of water again.
I take the Punch cigar and cut the tip careful not to catch my skin in the cutter again. The light out is still bright, I can barely note if the butane lighter is on or not. I take the cigar at the 45 degree angle and begin the slow spin. It burns irregularly and I take a pull. As I exhale the wind blows the smoke in my face. I wince and realize the cigar is not completely lit. I relight it again.
I muse as with disbelief as I register a cherry flavor. I strain my memory what else it could be. I finally register, nope that is what I taste, I write it down. This time feels more familiar less anxiety inducing. I watch the patterns in the smoke curling in the wind and make patterns in the air with the moving cigar. Sip water and listen to the birds more.
I think of the scenes I need to write and how the chapters I have rewritten now are much more present and interesting.
As the cigar burns it starts to taste of a mixed wood campfire and bright charcoal. Eventually there are chocolate notes. Completely throws me. I note how it can be used to measure time. This ritual of takIng a breath then bringing in the smoke rolling it in my mouth and then exhaling slowly out reminds me of so many mindful exercises I do in yoga and traumatic moments. I note the changing tastes and how it really is an experience in itself.
I didn’t have a problem of accidentally inhaling till the wind would shift course and I accidentally inhaled the smoke making me cough.
When I finished that cigar I looked at the other two curiously. The White Owl was wrapped in a metallic foil wrapper unlike the clear ones all the ones before had. It was hard to get off and the tobacco felt more delicate and fresh. The tips were not blunt but more pointed. It was the smaller size. Couple surprises. It’s smoke was a light blue and the taste incredible sweet like dipping my tongue into sugar. I kept smoking it and was floored by it staying sweet the entire time it never cloyed. The smoke curled into impressive shapes I swore I saw smoke dragons which was a plot element from my first novel where the main character was given a cameo.
I also realized with amusement that drank a third of the 20 ml of the whiskey at that point.
This cigar morphed from sweet to mesquite wood and in ten minutes tasted of peppermint. As it burned on the end I put in my mouth dissolved a bit and I would pull pieces of tobacco from my tongue. The end combined with the whiskey became this caramel taste.
I took a drink of water and a taste of whiskey again to clear my mouth. The last one was the Padron 1964 I had read about it in a magazine and it was 12 dollars for this blunt cigar. The tobacco in this burned bluer and there was a whole meal of an experience through its burn. It starts as this subtle spicy combination like eating creole food. Subtle and complimentary then morphs to a campfire taste with charcoal slowly changing to chocolate and then butterscotch at the end.
I was a bit dizzy when I finished the last cigar. I could feel the ash in my mouth and it took effort to clean my yard up. I was full of descriptions for the rest of the novel and on a new quest to purge my body of smoke before I fell off to sleep.
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