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A tarry odor like hot macadam or turpentine, but with a woodsy edge.

When the firefighters pulled up on Woodland Drive, the severed power lines were dancing in the street, showering it with sparks and melting the macadam.

My steroid-addled auditory cortex had interpreted the drumming of my tires on macadam as the jazz song “Sunrise Serenade.”

At the edge of the woods, where the grassy roadside banked above the macadam, they stopped to wait for an opening in the traffic.

When the scallops are abundant, gulls pluck them from shallows, drop them on the macadam from a height, and swoop down to eat the meat from the cracked shell.