What Smells

Since I wasn't in the mood for writing something on topic just yet, I've decided to just do a small (ha) blurb on the topic of smells.  Or better, scents.  Aromas. Fragrances.  The things that alert our olfactory senses.

We all can relate, I'm sure, to the fact that certain scents have the ability to transport us to different times and places in our memory timeline.  Often, a smell is pleasing, even if it is typically not a pretty smell, because there are fond memories with which it is associated.
For example, the smell of earthworms in dirt.  Typically, not an attractive scent, but for me, it reminds me of sitting in a rowboat on a placid lake, learning to fish with my father.
Similarly, the smell of dirt reminds me of digging alongside him in our backyard garden, planting seedlings, having quiet communion with nature.

I don't know if all "good" smells represent past pleasant memories for me, but I can usually associate many of them with something.  The smell of the pavement on a hot Summer day just after a quick rain shower brings me back to childhood; being able to run back outside to play.  It represents a reprieve from oppressive heat.  A reprieve from being stuck in the house.  It's a smell that makes me happy, and thankful, even though I haven't played outside in a couple hundred years.

The smell of fresh cut grass (though I didn't particularly like it when I had to mow my lawn and went into allergy  meltdown) is a glorious Summer smell.  The smell of freedom from school and the smell of two adventurous months of playing with friends.

The smell of a new pair of shoes reminds me of my young school days and the excitement of having that one original item (we wore school uniforms, so it was the only unique part of our wardrobes) and the first day of school, which would inevitably (in my fantasies) involve a new, good-looking boy from another town or country.

The smell of sauce cooking on the stove meant it was Sunday, and there were some good eats on the agenda.  I am my own sauce maker these days, but the happy thoughts are still there.

The smell of VO5 Kiwi Lime Squeeze shampoo; because even though I was ticked that Spenser had quickly picked a cheap, non-moisturizing formula when I made him dash into the store on our way to a very rare family vacation, it, for one, smelled surprisingly good, and two, it now instantly brings back memories of taking a cool shower after a hot day on the beach.

The smell of anything pineapple and/or coconut.  It means suntan lotion, and pina coladas, and the summertime, and the beach, and just, ahhhhh.

The smell of a forest means Girl Scout camp and nature and mystery and The Hobbit.

For some smells, I cannot associate a particular happy memory, but they are good smells, to me.

The smell of freshly baked bread.
The smell of horses in a barn.
The smell of coffee in the morning, particularly if it is being made before you've gotten out of bed (sadly, that's a rare one for me).
The smell of the air when you are awaiting the first snow of the Winter (though I suppose there are some happy thoughts there, anticipating the potential for school or work closures).
The smell of fresh basil.
The smell of clothes coming out of the dryer.
The smell of lemons.  And oranges.

I'm guessing that there are more items in my olfactory treasure chest, but, alas, this was supposed to be a short blurb.  I'm off to do some dishes and some laundry, neither of which will smell good or bring me fond memories.  (my dryer is still not working, so I won't even get the fresh-clothes-from-dryer thing.) (grumble)