Friday, May 23, 2008

Smells like a Rose.



Smells are such a powerful part of our lives. You know how you can almost gain weight walking along the beach where there is a hot dog vendor, even if you don't like hot dogs. I spent last night at my sisters home where her lovely granddaughter sleeps when she visits. You know that lovely new baby smell. When the baby doesn't sleep there, my brother in law must keep his clothes or something in there, as I could smell him all night as well, (not stinky, just nice). It occurs to me that we associate certain smells with memories as well. Think about it. I shall never walk past a Estee Lauder counter without thinking of Helen K. And I will always know it must be Saturday evening when I smell spaghetti sauce cooking at my house. I'll always think of my neighbor Joe when I smell grass after it's been freshly cut. And I will remember my husband courting me when I smell Old Spice ( I should have know he'd be cheap). I can't imagine everyone doesn't have these kinds of memories ( what about moth balls)? Who does that remind you of. I even read an article that intrigued me about the smell of outer space.

I must dedicate this post however to my friend Sue P. I'll never forget her singing that song dip dip dip... smells like cheer. I'm so glad we have noses, that are linked to our minds and other parts as well. Photo courtesy of "more pictures of flowers.com"

2 comments:

Leslie Jane Moran said...

I have an old chocolate box that was in a drawer in my Grandmother's house. This practical use for a box contains many fine crochet cottons with ultra thin crochet hooks. The women in those days made intricately crocheted edges for pillow cases. The smell of the contents is of some heavenly scent. All I have to do is open the lid and my childhood returns.

Anonymous said...

Smells are a funny thing because they do bring you to places in an instant. Perfume of a teacher from 20 years ago, that instantly brings her being right there in front of you. Or the smell of raw dough at Babcia's, when she let you play with leftover scraps. Our senses let us travel in time without going anywhere.
Andrea P