What's in a smell . . .

 

(source)

"Smell is a potent wizard that transports 

you across thousands of miles 

and all the years you have lived." 

~Helen Keller 

 There is something really special about smells. They have the power to grasp your mind and take you back to any memory in your experience, to make you feel really safe, or afraid, or comfortable or sad.

 

My mother's old wooden cooking spoon  absorbed the smell of many a year. No matter how many times it had been washed and scrubbed, time's compelling odour abounds. The smell of garlic, onion and tomato paste permeates it and whispers golden memories of evenings shared with loved ones now thousand of miles apart.

 The smell of molasses cookies baking in the oven always takes me back to my grandmother's ample lap and the feeling of warmth and love as I cuddled there. I can hear the creak of her rocking chair and I just feel safe and loved. The smell of molasses cookies baking makes me long for the safety and comfort of my childhood.

Occasionally when I am in a drugstore I will encounter a smell that in my memory reminds me of being a teenage girl, getting ready for Saturday night, washing my hair and rinsing it with Lady Patricia's pink hair conditioner. I loved the way it made my hair smell. I might be reminded of all the dances I went to as a young girl and the excitment of them.  The awkwardness of the boys, the anticipation and patience needed while waiting to be asked . . . .

The smell of Ma Griffe perfume always takes me back to my mother's bosom and the memory of watching her as she got gussied up to go out for a night on the tiles with my dad.  Always elegant, always well dressed.  My father in a suit, hair combed and shining, smellling of aftershave. They were the epitome of elegance.  They were my Fred and Ginger.  Back then they were my whole world.

 

The top dresser drawer of the high boy dresser in the spare room at my mom's always smelled like a combination of leather, tobacco, cork grease and butterscotch wafers, or in other words, my dad. My father was a  clarinetist and he used to keep a hidden stash of butterscotch wafers in that drawer along with his cork grease and wallet.

It was forbidden to go into our parents room without being invited in . . .  never mind into the dresser drawers. The elusiveness  of it somehow made it even more attractive and compelling. I had many sneaky forays into their hidden world through the years. Never with any intent other than to flirt with the forbidden and to perhaps discover  what was so special that it had to be kept hidden from our eyes.

Evening in Paris . . . burning leaves . . . 

a freshly sharpened pencil . . . wood fires  . . .  

musty moth balls . . . 

These smells and others are memory triggers.  Each one of them hold the keys to magical moments in time, known only to me. They are like little treasures and gems hidden in my mind just waiting for the right moment for me to take them out and explore them once more . . .

I have an amazing sense of smell.  Sometimes I will smell something hot, like heat or hot plastic, or maybe some other dangrous scent, and I will wander around the house looking for it.  Trying to making sure nothing is on fire, or smouldering and waiting to catch us unaware.  I especially hate it when I am about to get into bed and I smell something like that.

More often than not it is coming from outside the house, but I still need to investigate to make sure we are safe.

 

“Isn’t it splendid to think of 
all the things there are to find out about? 
It just makes me feel glad to be alive.
It’s such an interesting world. It wouldn’t be half 
so interesting if we know all about everything, would it? 
There’d be no scope for imagination then, would there?”
 ~Anne Shirley

I think I just have a very vivid imagination, which is sometimes a good thing, but also at times it can be a not-so-good thing admittedly.  As a child I was taught to use it and I guess that is a lesson that truly stuck with me.  I'm a dreamer  . . . 

A thought to carry with you  . . . 

° * 。 • ˚ ˚ ˛ ˚ ˛ •
•。★★ 。* 。
° 。 ° ˛˚˛ * _Π_____*。*˚
˚ ˛ •˛•˚ */______/~＼。˚ ˚ ˛
˚ ˛ •˛• ˚ ｜ 田田 ｜門 ★
 *“In nature, nothing is perfect 

and everything is perfect. 

Trees can be contorted, 

bent in weird ways, 

and they’re still beautiful.” 

~Alice Walker •。★★ 。* 。 

 

In the English Kitchen today  . . .  Sugar Free Banana Nut Muffins.  Seriously no sugar in this recipe.  This is what muffins are supposed to be.  Muffins, not little cakes.

I hope you have a beautiful sabbath day, filled with luck and love and lots of things that bring you joy.  Don't forget through the space of your day  . . . 

 

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And I do too!