Wednesday, February 17

memory smells

Still piles and piles of snow around here. I'd like to add that this is very unusual. We just don't often get heavy snows here. It's really rather fun. Tim has gone on walkabout, I mean, gone to the coffeeshop for a french press and a read, and maybe some adventure. We're all a little housebound these days. There's really not a lot of space outside to swing your elbows without hitting a snowdrift. Quite picturesque, of course, until you break through the crust and fall in up to your thighs and flail around with snow packing into your socks and the dogs cheating by walking in your wake and on your ankles. And then they get home and want a biscuit? I mean, come on.

But, among other events I wanted to share...

Last night, as I took a bath, I dripped essential oils into the roiling water. As the scent of limes filled my nose, I suddenly felt homesick. Now, I have no upsetting childhood memories associated with limes, (in fact, I have almost no memories associated with limes) so I'm curious where this is coming from. Scent memory is so strong. I remember a quote by Nabokov: "Nothing revives the past so completely as a smell that was once associated with it." Limes. Homesickness. Hmn.

Mothballs remind me of the Ontario cabin my parents drove us to each year, from Florida, for vacation. Mothballs and lake smell. Yum.

Dove soap, of my grandma's kitchen sink, overlooking the bird feeder where she used to shoot at the pigeons with an ancient BB gun, which was so old the BB's would actually bounce off the birds. (Yes, grandma grew up on a farm.)

Grandma must've been big on soap because I also think of her house when I smell lavender soap: she used to keep it in with the fabrics in her sewing room to scent them. It scented my memory, too.

Root beer reminds me of hiking in Wisconsin and chewing on black birch twigs, because that is what they smell and taste like. I like chewing on a black birch twig while walking along and looking at the scenery and keeping an eye out for bear. Very soothing.

You know, I have a friend who, whenever she hugs me, pushes her face into my hair and says, "Yep. Brooke smell." And I really wonder what that is. She even walked into my house once and said, "Yep. Smells like you." I really hope that's a good thing. It probably is.

I do tend to smell at things a lot. I'll even smell the mail. That might sound weird but it's really not, I promise.

If a guy walks by me and smells good, though, I will practically turn and follow him down the street. And I'm happily married. Powerful stuff, smelling is.

Thank goodness for noses!

What about you? Any memory scents?