As I drove home from my stepfather's birthday party Saturday evening, I drove with the windows down. Saturday was a very warm day and as I drove, I drove through patches of smells. Honeysuckle. Wisteria. And out here in the country, chicken houses. And I realized how much I love the smells of summer.
It's not a new concept that warmth releases smells. Heck, Glade has been making a living on that concept for years. But I just realized the other day how much my sense of smell is tied into summer and how much I love those smells. Sure, I love the smell of a bonfire crackling in the winter, but that's just about the only smell I can think of off the top of my head that I love from colder months.
But summer. Oh. Summer is a different animal entirely.
Hot creosote coating the scorching parking lots of my barefoot youth, along with the coated telephone poles we passed as we made our way to town.
The warm, dark, sandy smell of earth turned for a garden. The sharp, green smell of squash vines, prickly in your hand.
Honeysuckle in the evening, the sweet nectar drops on your tongue -- if the bee didn't get there first.
The dry, musty smell of the canvas of our tent.
The hot, burned oil and grease that lubed the old tractors under my Papa's barn.
The smell of cracked upholstery and the tobacco spittoon of Papa's truck.
The smell of Gain detergent on Grandma's sheets dried in the sun. Tucked in after a long day playing in the creek.
The combined smells of warm cow fur, burlap bags, feed, and manure of the milk barn.
Hawaiian Tropic, no SPF, not in those days, slathered on to catch as many rays as possible. Combined with the deeper smell of the "axle grease" sunscreen applied to our squirming faces and bodies while our feet danced toward the waves.
The salty smell of the ocean at night.
These are the smells of summer. If I concentrate hard enough, I can smell them now. Heaven.
6 years ago