Describe your favorite holiday and season for us in scents and colors. (or just a time or place you love, if you don't care for either of those topics.)

Well, it�s not really hard to deduce that Norm here doesn�t like holidays. No, strike that. Norm �does- like holidays� she just doesn�t like your �conventional� holidays. Yes, Norm hates Christmas� and Thanksgiving� and Valentine�s Day� etc. The only �real� holiday she doesn�t really mind is Halloween. But that�s no real surprise, is it? But anyway, she�s going to answer the question, nonetheless. So, here we go.

Norm�s favourite time- My favourite time is twilight. The smell of the cooled air just helps one feel at ease. Everything in the distance becomes a shade of black. Not many colours, but a remarkable sight nonetheless. It�s almost like a minimalist approach. The sky becomes a midnight blue colour� or black, depending on whom you ask. And the white dots that litter the sky. If you look carefully, you can almost make out the faintest colours of a red, or perhaps even blue. If you�re lucky enough, you�ll even see bands of red, green, or sometimes blue. It�s called the Aurora Borealis� or the northern lights.

Norm�s favourite place- There�s nothing better than the scent of nature to retreat to. The greens of the grass and tree leaves, the browns of the trees, and the many shades of growing flowers. And one just cannot forget to mention the greys of the rocks, and the browns of the dirt path. My favourite place is St. Louis Canyon, which is a park located near Starved Rock State Park here in IL. It�s a magical place to visit� and nearly indescribable.

Norm�s favourite season- The smell of the cool, crisp air melds delightfully with the hues of reds, oranges, and yellows. The dulling of the once vibrant green grass to a yellowish (sometimes brownish) colour is sometimes hardly noticed beneath the piles of colourful fallen leaves. It�s all about the smell of the country, the smell of fresh apple pie baking in the oven, the smell of mouthwatering homemade pumpkin pie and that hint of spice that makes it to-die-for. Gone are the bright colours of spring and summer. While this season is ruled by more �duller� hues, its beauty rivals that of any. Autumn (fall, call it whatever you wish) is my favourite season of them all.

Norm�s favourite holiday- My favourite holiday takes me back to the year 1944. Now, imagine with me if you will� it�s the 6th of June. It seems like you�ve been stuck in the Higgins boat for all eternity. The smell of salt water is predominant, though, occasionally, you are overwhelmed by the smell of human vomit as a wave of nausea rips through the boat, men loosing lunch all around. Over the edge, on the bottom of the boat, is doesn�t matter. And one just cannot forget the smell of diesel. The smell of the motors as they push the boats along. The colours are dull, drab, and somewhat dreary. The olive drab of the uniforms of the men around you, the steel grey of the boat you�re riding in, and you just cannot forget the colour of the sky. Was it blue? Or was it just an off colour of grey? It was hard to tell. Time seems to slow down to a mere crawl. All of the sudden, the driver of the boat yells out �Thirty seconds!� Your world is about to be shaken apart. You hear the sound of artillery being fired by the naval ships behind you. You see the mortars streaking overhead. A splash. You smell the acrid stench of gunpowder. So close to your little tin can. The draw opens, letting light come streaking in. Oh the light� to go towards it or not? The screams pierce your very soul.

The smell of smoke overwhelms you� as well as the unforgettable (and unshakable) smell of fresh blood. Then there�s the smell of death. As well as the smell and sound of unforgettable pain and suffering at the hands of the Germans who are perched safely behind their �Atlantic Wall�. Oh how mighty they must feel. Sitting there and laughing, taking potshots at the Allies as they make an attempt to take the beach. Everything seems to mold together. The grey colour of the wet sand� the strange blue colour of the ocean water� and the red. The unforgettable red colour of human blood, of human determination is blended in there as well. You hunker down behind the cold, steel grey �X� embedded in the shore. It�s a small shelter for the hailstorm of bullets relentlessly raining down upon your head.

But you move on. Your black boots digging into the lifeless yellow sand beneath them. You know you must move on. The second wave will not land until the first wave is cleared. The smell of fear lingers in the air� as well as the smell of determination. Brave men determined to take the beach at any cost� brave men determined to not give up without a fight. You look down at your pale, trembling hands, clutching tightly to the cold black metal you call a gun. With determination, you fire back, silver coloured bullets leaping from the muzzle of your gun in a burst of grey smoke.

It wasn�t the first battle of the war, nor was it the last. But it was a turning point. The invasion of the beaches of France turned the tide of the war. For the brave men that lost their lives there, they knew they would not die in vain. They died fighting for a cause in which they believed. While D-Day might not be your �conventional� holiday, it is a holiday in my book� and that�s all that matters.