Fragrance and memory

Anne here. I woke up this morning to the scent of wood fires, which isn't a common thing to smell around here, especially in the mornings. At first I thought I might have dreamt it, because I'd been semi-dreaming about an event and place from my childhood, when we did have a real fire, but no, the woodsmoke was real. ChazFire

In truth, the childhood memory was probably sparked by the smoke, smell being the sense that most strongly evokes the past. So that got me thinking about some of the smells of my past and the events and associations they carry.

For instance, the smell of a bakery early in the morning takes me right back to when I was nine or ten, and living near a port in the far west of Victoria. Some big ship was due in — it was a historical event of some kind, and the whole town was talking about it. We had a family friend staying with us, a nineteen year old girl and she, like me, was eager to be the first to catch a glimpse of this ship.

Every day for a week we got up before dawn and walked down to the harbor to see if the ship had arrived. We had to pass the town bakery, and ohhhh that glorious smell of baking bread. Especially since we hadn't yet eaten breakfast. My friend being older and braver — the bakery didn't open for hours yet — knocked on the bakery door and asked to buy some bread.

SeaView (1)

They gave us hot steaming crusty rolls lavishly buttered, and we walked on down to stare out to sea, nibbling on the gorgeous crusty bread while butter dripped onto our fingers. Ever since, the scent of bread baking in the early morning brings me back to that time and place. We never did see the ship arrive, but did we regret those pre-dawn excursions? Not a bit.

Smells from childhood can evoke memories for a lifetime. My mother spent her last years with Alzheimers in a nursing home, where they had a large courtyard "fragrance garden" where every plant was scented. I remember her poking disapprovingly at a scruffy bank of silvery wormwood, and saying "Chooks." (Australian for hens.) I broke a bit off to smell it — it's quite an acrid smell, and was instantly transported to Aunty Ruby's farm, where the large chicken pen was surrounded by wormwood bushes, and where we kids used to play in and around the bushes. Wormwood is apparently good for repelling mites and parasites (though not kids). Mum had obviously remembered. Wormwood

Thinking about other smells that evoke times and places and people, one of my favorites is the scent of rain on hot, parched earth. Or on hot bitumen. There's a name for it — petrichor — which was coined in 1964 by Australian scientists I. J. Bear & R. G. Thomas who wrote, "The diverse nature of the host materials has led us to propose the name ‘petrichor’ for this apparently unique odour which can be regarded as an ‘ichor’ or ‘tenuous essence’ derived from rock or stone."

For my money the name is not nearly evocative enough for the glory of the fragrance.

BushTo many Australians the scent of the bush is the scent of home, even if we were raised in the suburbs. (The bush here meaning the wild native forest.) The scent of the bush after rain is a glory to be experienced. Eucalyptus leaves in particular evoke that smell. I recall years ago my father taking a packet of dried Eucalyptus leaves to some Australians who'd been living abroad for some years. They burned some in their fire and the scent almost brought them to tears. 

I was seven and it made a real impression on me — I thought they were a bit mad, to be honest, but years later I was in Greece and came across a gum tree (Eucalyptus) and I crushed a handful of leaves and buried my face in them and breathed in the fragrance. Yes, I was feeling homesick.

Another scent I love is that of a real pine Christmas tree — the artificial ones might be more convenient, less messy and possibly prettier, but without that fresh piney scent, for me, it just isn't Christmas.

It's winter here at the moment, but the promise of spring is making itself known — my jasmine is about to flower, the daphne is out, freesia buds are poking up, and the fresh lemony fragrance of honeysuckle is filling the house. It's helping me to imagine the setting of my current book, part of which takes place in an English garden in spring. Honeysuckle1

Other scents that evoke strong associations or memories:

Nana's house, which always had a lovely homey distinctive unnamable smell. It wasn't one smell, but a melange of several scents that combined to make the house smell delicious and comforting.

Real home-grown tomatoes, so much more fragrant than the shop ones
New-mown grass

The smell of hot chips, and fish and chips. In fact I passed a chip shop a few evenings ago and have been wanting fish and chips ever since

Old Spice aftershave, which always makes me think of my dad.

The first scent of the sea. For part of my childhood we lived inland and driving towards the coast we always had the car windows open for that first delicious sniff of the sea.

The scent of gunpowder from letting off crackers on bonfire night. (Bonfire night was the highlight of the year in my childhood.)

Hay, climbing up on the haystacks on the farm, sliding down it. Curling up in it with a kitten or two and a book.

So, a very indulgent post, I'm afraid. So let's share a few sense memories. Is there some scent that you find powerfully evocative of a time or place or person or event?  Tell us about it.

210 thoughts on “Fragrance and memory”

  1. Lovely post. The first thing that came to mind was the smell of grape jelly. On my great aunt’s farm they had several rows of concord grapes in their large garden. My aunt would make jelly from them. It smelled so wonderful. Every now and then when I first open a jar of store bought grape jelly the smell takes me back to my aunt’s kitchen. Wonderful childhood memories.

    Reply
  2. Lovely post. The first thing that came to mind was the smell of grape jelly. On my great aunt’s farm they had several rows of concord grapes in their large garden. My aunt would make jelly from them. It smelled so wonderful. Every now and then when I first open a jar of store bought grape jelly the smell takes me back to my aunt’s kitchen. Wonderful childhood memories.

    Reply
  3. Lovely post. The first thing that came to mind was the smell of grape jelly. On my great aunt’s farm they had several rows of concord grapes in their large garden. My aunt would make jelly from them. It smelled so wonderful. Every now and then when I first open a jar of store bought grape jelly the smell takes me back to my aunt’s kitchen. Wonderful childhood memories.

    Reply
  4. Lovely post. The first thing that came to mind was the smell of grape jelly. On my great aunt’s farm they had several rows of concord grapes in their large garden. My aunt would make jelly from them. It smelled so wonderful. Every now and then when I first open a jar of store bought grape jelly the smell takes me back to my aunt’s kitchen. Wonderful childhood memories.

    Reply
  5. Lovely post. The first thing that came to mind was the smell of grape jelly. On my great aunt’s farm they had several rows of concord grapes in their large garden. My aunt would make jelly from them. It smelled so wonderful. Every now and then when I first open a jar of store bought grape jelly the smell takes me back to my aunt’s kitchen. Wonderful childhood memories.

    Reply
  6. Smell is amazingly powerful, and it doesn’t even have to be a “good” smell. My most vivid smell memory goes back to college. I had grown up in New York City and was off in a small college town. I walked out of my dorm one rainy morning and suddenly felt so homesick. Then I realized that a bus had just gone past and I was smelling the exhaust.

    Reply
  7. Smell is amazingly powerful, and it doesn’t even have to be a “good” smell. My most vivid smell memory goes back to college. I had grown up in New York City and was off in a small college town. I walked out of my dorm one rainy morning and suddenly felt so homesick. Then I realized that a bus had just gone past and I was smelling the exhaust.

    Reply
  8. Smell is amazingly powerful, and it doesn’t even have to be a “good” smell. My most vivid smell memory goes back to college. I had grown up in New York City and was off in a small college town. I walked out of my dorm one rainy morning and suddenly felt so homesick. Then I realized that a bus had just gone past and I was smelling the exhaust.

    Reply
  9. Smell is amazingly powerful, and it doesn’t even have to be a “good” smell. My most vivid smell memory goes back to college. I had grown up in New York City and was off in a small college town. I walked out of my dorm one rainy morning and suddenly felt so homesick. Then I realized that a bus had just gone past and I was smelling the exhaust.

    Reply
  10. Smell is amazingly powerful, and it doesn’t even have to be a “good” smell. My most vivid smell memory goes back to college. I had grown up in New York City and was off in a small college town. I walked out of my dorm one rainy morning and suddenly felt so homesick. Then I realized that a bus had just gone past and I was smelling the exhaust.

    Reply
  11. Oh, what a wonderful post! I am in my seventies and when I smell manure it makes me remember driving through the countryside with my Dad and he would say “Oh, smell that lovely perfume” and make me laugh. We used to have shops in our town where they made homemade potato chips and the smell was so wonderful. To this day I prefer salty to sweet for a snack!

    Reply
  12. Oh, what a wonderful post! I am in my seventies and when I smell manure it makes me remember driving through the countryside with my Dad and he would say “Oh, smell that lovely perfume” and make me laugh. We used to have shops in our town where they made homemade potato chips and the smell was so wonderful. To this day I prefer salty to sweet for a snack!

    Reply
  13. Oh, what a wonderful post! I am in my seventies and when I smell manure it makes me remember driving through the countryside with my Dad and he would say “Oh, smell that lovely perfume” and make me laugh. We used to have shops in our town where they made homemade potato chips and the smell was so wonderful. To this day I prefer salty to sweet for a snack!

    Reply
  14. Oh, what a wonderful post! I am in my seventies and when I smell manure it makes me remember driving through the countryside with my Dad and he would say “Oh, smell that lovely perfume” and make me laugh. We used to have shops in our town where they made homemade potato chips and the smell was so wonderful. To this day I prefer salty to sweet for a snack!

    Reply
  15. Oh, what a wonderful post! I am in my seventies and when I smell manure it makes me remember driving through the countryside with my Dad and he would say “Oh, smell that lovely perfume” and make me laugh. We used to have shops in our town where they made homemade potato chips and the smell was so wonderful. To this day I prefer salty to sweet for a snack!

    Reply
  16. Wonderful post, Anne! One evocative scent for me is black walnuts, which grew in Western New York where I grew up. My brother and sister and I would collect the nuts in an old burlap bag and take them home. I’d break them on a stone in the cellar with a hammer. (It’s much harder to get the nut meat out for black walnuts than English Walnuts!) My local gourmet grocer sometime makes black walnut pound cake around Christmas, and the scent takes me right back. I’ve given loaves to my brother and sister and they have the same reaction.
    As for eucalyptus? The scent takes me right back to the Bay Area of California, where the gum trees were introduced and found it good. *G* whole hillsides were covered with them. The scent of northern California….

    Reply
  17. Wonderful post, Anne! One evocative scent for me is black walnuts, which grew in Western New York where I grew up. My brother and sister and I would collect the nuts in an old burlap bag and take them home. I’d break them on a stone in the cellar with a hammer. (It’s much harder to get the nut meat out for black walnuts than English Walnuts!) My local gourmet grocer sometime makes black walnut pound cake around Christmas, and the scent takes me right back. I’ve given loaves to my brother and sister and they have the same reaction.
    As for eucalyptus? The scent takes me right back to the Bay Area of California, where the gum trees were introduced and found it good. *G* whole hillsides were covered with them. The scent of northern California….

    Reply
  18. Wonderful post, Anne! One evocative scent for me is black walnuts, which grew in Western New York where I grew up. My brother and sister and I would collect the nuts in an old burlap bag and take them home. I’d break them on a stone in the cellar with a hammer. (It’s much harder to get the nut meat out for black walnuts than English Walnuts!) My local gourmet grocer sometime makes black walnut pound cake around Christmas, and the scent takes me right back. I’ve given loaves to my brother and sister and they have the same reaction.
    As for eucalyptus? The scent takes me right back to the Bay Area of California, where the gum trees were introduced and found it good. *G* whole hillsides were covered with them. The scent of northern California….

    Reply
  19. Wonderful post, Anne! One evocative scent for me is black walnuts, which grew in Western New York where I grew up. My brother and sister and I would collect the nuts in an old burlap bag and take them home. I’d break them on a stone in the cellar with a hammer. (It’s much harder to get the nut meat out for black walnuts than English Walnuts!) My local gourmet grocer sometime makes black walnut pound cake around Christmas, and the scent takes me right back. I’ve given loaves to my brother and sister and they have the same reaction.
    As for eucalyptus? The scent takes me right back to the Bay Area of California, where the gum trees were introduced and found it good. *G* whole hillsides were covered with them. The scent of northern California….

    Reply
  20. Wonderful post, Anne! One evocative scent for me is black walnuts, which grew in Western New York where I grew up. My brother and sister and I would collect the nuts in an old burlap bag and take them home. I’d break them on a stone in the cellar with a hammer. (It’s much harder to get the nut meat out for black walnuts than English Walnuts!) My local gourmet grocer sometime makes black walnut pound cake around Christmas, and the scent takes me right back. I’ve given loaves to my brother and sister and they have the same reaction.
    As for eucalyptus? The scent takes me right back to the Bay Area of California, where the gum trees were introduced and found it good. *G* whole hillsides were covered with them. The scent of northern California….

    Reply
  21. What a lovely post, Anne! I remember receiving a small package of photos and a couple of handkerchiefs about a year or so after my grandmother died. I hadn’t seen her in some ten years by that time, but when I opened the package I was suddenly surrounded by a fragrance that was quintessentially her.

    Reply
  22. What a lovely post, Anne! I remember receiving a small package of photos and a couple of handkerchiefs about a year or so after my grandmother died. I hadn’t seen her in some ten years by that time, but when I opened the package I was suddenly surrounded by a fragrance that was quintessentially her.

    Reply
  23. What a lovely post, Anne! I remember receiving a small package of photos and a couple of handkerchiefs about a year or so after my grandmother died. I hadn’t seen her in some ten years by that time, but when I opened the package I was suddenly surrounded by a fragrance that was quintessentially her.

    Reply
  24. What a lovely post, Anne! I remember receiving a small package of photos and a couple of handkerchiefs about a year or so after my grandmother died. I hadn’t seen her in some ten years by that time, but when I opened the package I was suddenly surrounded by a fragrance that was quintessentially her.

    Reply
  25. What a lovely post, Anne! I remember receiving a small package of photos and a couple of handkerchiefs about a year or so after my grandmother died. I hadn’t seen her in some ten years by that time, but when I opened the package I was suddenly surrounded by a fragrance that was quintessentially her.

    Reply
  26. Lilacs have always meant spring was truly here, to me.
    And I want to thank you, Anne, for clearing up a longtime mystery. We have this thriving plant in our back yard and couldn’t figure out what it was, or when it got here. Turns out it’s wormwood! I vaguely remember planting what was identified as artemisia many years ago in my herb garden, thinking I was getting the Silver Mound variety.

    Reply
  27. Lilacs have always meant spring was truly here, to me.
    And I want to thank you, Anne, for clearing up a longtime mystery. We have this thriving plant in our back yard and couldn’t figure out what it was, or when it got here. Turns out it’s wormwood! I vaguely remember planting what was identified as artemisia many years ago in my herb garden, thinking I was getting the Silver Mound variety.

    Reply
  28. Lilacs have always meant spring was truly here, to me.
    And I want to thank you, Anne, for clearing up a longtime mystery. We have this thriving plant in our back yard and couldn’t figure out what it was, or when it got here. Turns out it’s wormwood! I vaguely remember planting what was identified as artemisia many years ago in my herb garden, thinking I was getting the Silver Mound variety.

    Reply
  29. Lilacs have always meant spring was truly here, to me.
    And I want to thank you, Anne, for clearing up a longtime mystery. We have this thriving plant in our back yard and couldn’t figure out what it was, or when it got here. Turns out it’s wormwood! I vaguely remember planting what was identified as artemisia many years ago in my herb garden, thinking I was getting the Silver Mound variety.

    Reply
  30. Lilacs have always meant spring was truly here, to me.
    And I want to thank you, Anne, for clearing up a longtime mystery. We have this thriving plant in our back yard and couldn’t figure out what it was, or when it got here. Turns out it’s wormwood! I vaguely remember planting what was identified as artemisia many years ago in my herb garden, thinking I was getting the Silver Mound variety.

    Reply
  31. My farm boy husband would always say “smell the money” when we drove past someones someone’s hog farm. I thought of it quite a lot when I worked on a rural bookmobile…and that’s another good smell, books old or new.

    Reply
  32. My farm boy husband would always say “smell the money” when we drove past someones someone’s hog farm. I thought of it quite a lot when I worked on a rural bookmobile…and that’s another good smell, books old or new.

    Reply
  33. My farm boy husband would always say “smell the money” when we drove past someones someone’s hog farm. I thought of it quite a lot when I worked on a rural bookmobile…and that’s another good smell, books old or new.

    Reply
  34. My farm boy husband would always say “smell the money” when we drove past someones someone’s hog farm. I thought of it quite a lot when I worked on a rural bookmobile…and that’s another good smell, books old or new.

    Reply
  35. My farm boy husband would always say “smell the money” when we drove past someones someone’s hog farm. I thought of it quite a lot when I worked on a rural bookmobile…and that’s another good smell, books old or new.

    Reply
  36. The smell of juicy fruit chewing gum and diesel takes me back to June 16th 1974. It was a Sunday, Father’s Day, and it was the day after my 17th birthday. It was the last day that I saw my Dad alive. He was 37, tall and handsome, and was a long-distance lorry driver. He went to work at 9am that day, and had a massive heart attack and died at 4.30pm. I managed to see him before he died, and gave him his Father’s Day card and present (socks and a book about Elvis Presley) from my little brothers and sisters. All these years later (46) and I still love and miss him. He always smelled of diesel, and he loved juicy fruit chewing gum. He was my hero.

    Reply
  37. The smell of juicy fruit chewing gum and diesel takes me back to June 16th 1974. It was a Sunday, Father’s Day, and it was the day after my 17th birthday. It was the last day that I saw my Dad alive. He was 37, tall and handsome, and was a long-distance lorry driver. He went to work at 9am that day, and had a massive heart attack and died at 4.30pm. I managed to see him before he died, and gave him his Father’s Day card and present (socks and a book about Elvis Presley) from my little brothers and sisters. All these years later (46) and I still love and miss him. He always smelled of diesel, and he loved juicy fruit chewing gum. He was my hero.

    Reply
  38. The smell of juicy fruit chewing gum and diesel takes me back to June 16th 1974. It was a Sunday, Father’s Day, and it was the day after my 17th birthday. It was the last day that I saw my Dad alive. He was 37, tall and handsome, and was a long-distance lorry driver. He went to work at 9am that day, and had a massive heart attack and died at 4.30pm. I managed to see him before he died, and gave him his Father’s Day card and present (socks and a book about Elvis Presley) from my little brothers and sisters. All these years later (46) and I still love and miss him. He always smelled of diesel, and he loved juicy fruit chewing gum. He was my hero.

    Reply
  39. The smell of juicy fruit chewing gum and diesel takes me back to June 16th 1974. It was a Sunday, Father’s Day, and it was the day after my 17th birthday. It was the last day that I saw my Dad alive. He was 37, tall and handsome, and was a long-distance lorry driver. He went to work at 9am that day, and had a massive heart attack and died at 4.30pm. I managed to see him before he died, and gave him his Father’s Day card and present (socks and a book about Elvis Presley) from my little brothers and sisters. All these years later (46) and I still love and miss him. He always smelled of diesel, and he loved juicy fruit chewing gum. He was my hero.

    Reply
  40. The smell of juicy fruit chewing gum and diesel takes me back to June 16th 1974. It was a Sunday, Father’s Day, and it was the day after my 17th birthday. It was the last day that I saw my Dad alive. He was 37, tall and handsome, and was a long-distance lorry driver. He went to work at 9am that day, and had a massive heart attack and died at 4.30pm. I managed to see him before he died, and gave him his Father’s Day card and present (socks and a book about Elvis Presley) from my little brothers and sisters. All these years later (46) and I still love and miss him. He always smelled of diesel, and he loved juicy fruit chewing gum. He was my hero.

    Reply
  41. Those home grown preserves and jellies, Mary, nothing can beat them for flavor and scent. My childhood was full of jam-making and fruit bottling. I do a little still, but mainly not to waste the fruit and I give the jam away.

    Reply
  42. Those home grown preserves and jellies, Mary, nothing can beat them for flavor and scent. My childhood was full of jam-making and fruit bottling. I do a little still, but mainly not to waste the fruit and I give the jam away.

    Reply
  43. Those home grown preserves and jellies, Mary, nothing can beat them for flavor and scent. My childhood was full of jam-making and fruit bottling. I do a little still, but mainly not to waste the fruit and I give the jam away.

    Reply
  44. Those home grown preserves and jellies, Mary, nothing can beat them for flavor and scent. My childhood was full of jam-making and fruit bottling. I do a little still, but mainly not to waste the fruit and I give the jam away.

    Reply
  45. Those home grown preserves and jellies, Mary, nothing can beat them for flavor and scent. My childhood was full of jam-making and fruit bottling. I do a little still, but mainly not to waste the fruit and I give the jam away.

    Reply
  46. I can imagine it so clearly, Lil — and you probably wouldn’t have even thought the smell of exhaust reminded you of home — until that happened. it reminds me of going back to Malaysia for Christmas with my parents who lived there for a few years. I stepped out of the plane and breathed in that exhaust/wet-towel/tropicalfruit/ smell — not particularly pleasant, though not awful either — and knew I was home.

    Reply
  47. I can imagine it so clearly, Lil — and you probably wouldn’t have even thought the smell of exhaust reminded you of home — until that happened. it reminds me of going back to Malaysia for Christmas with my parents who lived there for a few years. I stepped out of the plane and breathed in that exhaust/wet-towel/tropicalfruit/ smell — not particularly pleasant, though not awful either — and knew I was home.

    Reply
  48. I can imagine it so clearly, Lil — and you probably wouldn’t have even thought the smell of exhaust reminded you of home — until that happened. it reminds me of going back to Malaysia for Christmas with my parents who lived there for a few years. I stepped out of the plane and breathed in that exhaust/wet-towel/tropicalfruit/ smell — not particularly pleasant, though not awful either — and knew I was home.

    Reply
  49. I can imagine it so clearly, Lil — and you probably wouldn’t have even thought the smell of exhaust reminded you of home — until that happened. it reminds me of going back to Malaysia for Christmas with my parents who lived there for a few years. I stepped out of the plane and breathed in that exhaust/wet-towel/tropicalfruit/ smell — not particularly pleasant, though not awful either — and knew I was home.

    Reply
  50. I can imagine it so clearly, Lil — and you probably wouldn’t have even thought the smell of exhaust reminded you of home — until that happened. it reminds me of going back to Malaysia for Christmas with my parents who lived there for a few years. I stepped out of the plane and breathed in that exhaust/wet-towel/tropicalfruit/ smell — not particularly pleasant, though not awful either — and knew I was home.

    Reply
  51. LOL Donna. Your dad sounds lovely. I must confess that I find the smell of horse manure quite pleasant. And I defy anyone to resist the smell of hot potato chips. I also prefer salty to sweet.

    Reply
  52. LOL Donna. Your dad sounds lovely. I must confess that I find the smell of horse manure quite pleasant. And I defy anyone to resist the smell of hot potato chips. I also prefer salty to sweet.

    Reply
  53. LOL Donna. Your dad sounds lovely. I must confess that I find the smell of horse manure quite pleasant. And I defy anyone to resist the smell of hot potato chips. I also prefer salty to sweet.

    Reply
  54. LOL Donna. Your dad sounds lovely. I must confess that I find the smell of horse manure quite pleasant. And I defy anyone to resist the smell of hot potato chips. I also prefer salty to sweet.

    Reply
  55. LOL Donna. Your dad sounds lovely. I must confess that I find the smell of horse manure quite pleasant. And I defy anyone to resist the smell of hot potato chips. I also prefer salty to sweet.

    Reply
  56. Oh yes, Donna Jo, the smell of books, old and new. It’s one of the things I miss now I use an e-reader — though I have plenty of old books to sniff. But that new book smell . . . It also carries the anticipation of the story.

    Reply
  57. Oh yes, Donna Jo, the smell of books, old and new. It’s one of the things I miss now I use an e-reader — though I have plenty of old books to sniff. But that new book smell . . . It also carries the anticipation of the story.

    Reply
  58. Oh yes, Donna Jo, the smell of books, old and new. It’s one of the things I miss now I use an e-reader — though I have plenty of old books to sniff. But that new book smell . . . It also carries the anticipation of the story.

    Reply
  59. Oh yes, Donna Jo, the smell of books, old and new. It’s one of the things I miss now I use an e-reader — though I have plenty of old books to sniff. But that new book smell . . . It also carries the anticipation of the story.

    Reply
  60. Oh yes, Donna Jo, the smell of books, old and new. It’s one of the things I miss now I use an e-reader — though I have plenty of old books to sniff. But that new book smell . . . It also carries the anticipation of the story.

    Reply
  61. I don’t believe I’ve ever had black walnuts, Mary Jo. My childhood was filled with ordinary walnuts — we often used to spend Easters in a place where there was an old walnut orchard, and we kids used to sneak in to pinch walnuts. The old farmer used to yell at us, but I suspect, looking back, it was a kind of a game. And I remember spending ages carefully cracking the shells open, competing to get the nut meat out whole, but also because we made tiny little boats from the shells to float in the creek.
    And yes, California has plenty of eucalypts — I believe that a lot of returning gold miners brought them back to the US after going to the gold rushes here in the 1850’s. Though that might be a myth. The trees have certainly made it to a lot of countries since Australia was colonized. Hardy, drought tolerant and beautiful.

    Reply
  62. I don’t believe I’ve ever had black walnuts, Mary Jo. My childhood was filled with ordinary walnuts — we often used to spend Easters in a place where there was an old walnut orchard, and we kids used to sneak in to pinch walnuts. The old farmer used to yell at us, but I suspect, looking back, it was a kind of a game. And I remember spending ages carefully cracking the shells open, competing to get the nut meat out whole, but also because we made tiny little boats from the shells to float in the creek.
    And yes, California has plenty of eucalypts — I believe that a lot of returning gold miners brought them back to the US after going to the gold rushes here in the 1850’s. Though that might be a myth. The trees have certainly made it to a lot of countries since Australia was colonized. Hardy, drought tolerant and beautiful.

    Reply
  63. I don’t believe I’ve ever had black walnuts, Mary Jo. My childhood was filled with ordinary walnuts — we often used to spend Easters in a place where there was an old walnut orchard, and we kids used to sneak in to pinch walnuts. The old farmer used to yell at us, but I suspect, looking back, it was a kind of a game. And I remember spending ages carefully cracking the shells open, competing to get the nut meat out whole, but also because we made tiny little boats from the shells to float in the creek.
    And yes, California has plenty of eucalypts — I believe that a lot of returning gold miners brought them back to the US after going to the gold rushes here in the 1850’s. Though that might be a myth. The trees have certainly made it to a lot of countries since Australia was colonized. Hardy, drought tolerant and beautiful.

    Reply
  64. I don’t believe I’ve ever had black walnuts, Mary Jo. My childhood was filled with ordinary walnuts — we often used to spend Easters in a place where there was an old walnut orchard, and we kids used to sneak in to pinch walnuts. The old farmer used to yell at us, but I suspect, looking back, it was a kind of a game. And I remember spending ages carefully cracking the shells open, competing to get the nut meat out whole, but also because we made tiny little boats from the shells to float in the creek.
    And yes, California has plenty of eucalypts — I believe that a lot of returning gold miners brought them back to the US after going to the gold rushes here in the 1850’s. Though that might be a myth. The trees have certainly made it to a lot of countries since Australia was colonized. Hardy, drought tolerant and beautiful.

    Reply
  65. I don’t believe I’ve ever had black walnuts, Mary Jo. My childhood was filled with ordinary walnuts — we often used to spend Easters in a place where there was an old walnut orchard, and we kids used to sneak in to pinch walnuts. The old farmer used to yell at us, but I suspect, looking back, it was a kind of a game. And I remember spending ages carefully cracking the shells open, competing to get the nut meat out whole, but also because we made tiny little boats from the shells to float in the creek.
    And yes, California has plenty of eucalypts — I believe that a lot of returning gold miners brought them back to the US after going to the gold rushes here in the 1850’s. Though that might be a myth. The trees have certainly made it to a lot of countries since Australia was colonized. Hardy, drought tolerant and beautiful.

    Reply
  66. Lee, I should have mentioned lilacs, though mine here are still a long way from flowering yet. And I’m glad you discovered what your bush was. It is an artemisia, though there are quite a few varieties. I believe wormwood is also used in the making of absinthe.

    Reply
  67. Lee, I should have mentioned lilacs, though mine here are still a long way from flowering yet. And I’m glad you discovered what your bush was. It is an artemisia, though there are quite a few varieties. I believe wormwood is also used in the making of absinthe.

    Reply
  68. Lee, I should have mentioned lilacs, though mine here are still a long way from flowering yet. And I’m glad you discovered what your bush was. It is an artemisia, though there are quite a few varieties. I believe wormwood is also used in the making of absinthe.

    Reply
  69. Lee, I should have mentioned lilacs, though mine here are still a long way from flowering yet. And I’m glad you discovered what your bush was. It is an artemisia, though there are quite a few varieties. I believe wormwood is also used in the making of absinthe.

    Reply
  70. Lee, I should have mentioned lilacs, though mine here are still a long way from flowering yet. And I’m glad you discovered what your bush was. It is an artemisia, though there are quite a few varieties. I believe wormwood is also used in the making of absinthe.

    Reply
  71. Oh, Elaine was a lovely bitter-sweet memory, and a tragic story. So good that you were able to see him to say goodbye and give him his presents — I can imagine that would have been terribly hard for you all. Thank you for sharing that precious memory.

    Reply
  72. Oh, Elaine was a lovely bitter-sweet memory, and a tragic story. So good that you were able to see him to say goodbye and give him his presents — I can imagine that would have been terribly hard for you all. Thank you for sharing that precious memory.

    Reply
  73. Oh, Elaine was a lovely bitter-sweet memory, and a tragic story. So good that you were able to see him to say goodbye and give him his presents — I can imagine that would have been terribly hard for you all. Thank you for sharing that precious memory.

    Reply
  74. Oh, Elaine was a lovely bitter-sweet memory, and a tragic story. So good that you were able to see him to say goodbye and give him his presents — I can imagine that would have been terribly hard for you all. Thank you for sharing that precious memory.

    Reply
  75. Oh, Elaine was a lovely bitter-sweet memory, and a tragic story. So good that you were able to see him to say goodbye and give him his presents — I can imagine that would have been terribly hard for you all. Thank you for sharing that precious memory.

    Reply
  76. Lovely post, Anne. The fragrance I most remember is very dear to my heart. For my whole life, my mother used only one scent: Yardley’s Bond Street. There was Chanel No. 5 in her bathroom, but it went unused. Only Yardley’s Bond Street would do. It used to be readily available, but toward the end of her life, it was nearly impossible to find. One kind friend even brought a bottle of it back for her after a trip to the UK. After my mother died, there was still a partial bottle of Yardley’s remaining in her bathroom closet. Every once in awhile, I still open it and have a sniff – and it’s as if my mother were still there. On a more pedestrian level, there are certain food smells that I thoroughly enjoy. One of those is brown sugar. Another is ripe peaches. And caramelizing onions. Sigh…I will have to admit to being food oriented.

    Reply
  77. Lovely post, Anne. The fragrance I most remember is very dear to my heart. For my whole life, my mother used only one scent: Yardley’s Bond Street. There was Chanel No. 5 in her bathroom, but it went unused. Only Yardley’s Bond Street would do. It used to be readily available, but toward the end of her life, it was nearly impossible to find. One kind friend even brought a bottle of it back for her after a trip to the UK. After my mother died, there was still a partial bottle of Yardley’s remaining in her bathroom closet. Every once in awhile, I still open it and have a sniff – and it’s as if my mother were still there. On a more pedestrian level, there are certain food smells that I thoroughly enjoy. One of those is brown sugar. Another is ripe peaches. And caramelizing onions. Sigh…I will have to admit to being food oriented.

    Reply
  78. Lovely post, Anne. The fragrance I most remember is very dear to my heart. For my whole life, my mother used only one scent: Yardley’s Bond Street. There was Chanel No. 5 in her bathroom, but it went unused. Only Yardley’s Bond Street would do. It used to be readily available, but toward the end of her life, it was nearly impossible to find. One kind friend even brought a bottle of it back for her after a trip to the UK. After my mother died, there was still a partial bottle of Yardley’s remaining in her bathroom closet. Every once in awhile, I still open it and have a sniff – and it’s as if my mother were still there. On a more pedestrian level, there are certain food smells that I thoroughly enjoy. One of those is brown sugar. Another is ripe peaches. And caramelizing onions. Sigh…I will have to admit to being food oriented.

    Reply
  79. Lovely post, Anne. The fragrance I most remember is very dear to my heart. For my whole life, my mother used only one scent: Yardley’s Bond Street. There was Chanel No. 5 in her bathroom, but it went unused. Only Yardley’s Bond Street would do. It used to be readily available, but toward the end of her life, it was nearly impossible to find. One kind friend even brought a bottle of it back for her after a trip to the UK. After my mother died, there was still a partial bottle of Yardley’s remaining in her bathroom closet. Every once in awhile, I still open it and have a sniff – and it’s as if my mother were still there. On a more pedestrian level, there are certain food smells that I thoroughly enjoy. One of those is brown sugar. Another is ripe peaches. And caramelizing onions. Sigh…I will have to admit to being food oriented.

    Reply
  80. Lovely post, Anne. The fragrance I most remember is very dear to my heart. For my whole life, my mother used only one scent: Yardley’s Bond Street. There was Chanel No. 5 in her bathroom, but it went unused. Only Yardley’s Bond Street would do. It used to be readily available, but toward the end of her life, it was nearly impossible to find. One kind friend even brought a bottle of it back for her after a trip to the UK. After my mother died, there was still a partial bottle of Yardley’s remaining in her bathroom closet. Every once in awhile, I still open it and have a sniff – and it’s as if my mother were still there. On a more pedestrian level, there are certain food smells that I thoroughly enjoy. One of those is brown sugar. Another is ripe peaches. And caramelizing onions. Sigh…I will have to admit to being food oriented.

    Reply
  81. Here’s an offbeat one: The several bathrooms in my grandparents’ 1880s-built home in northern Michigan. Not unpleasant, just distinctive. It could have been the old plumbing, but I chalked it up to 12 people having lived there, including seven sons and three daughters. Other rooms had their scents, too, including the kitchen and dining room (again, the 12 people), and my French Canadian Grampa’s den, which smelled of … smelly cigars (a good odor to me) and a constant wood fire. Sigh. That place was always home to me, though I only visited from time to time.

    Reply
  82. Here’s an offbeat one: The several bathrooms in my grandparents’ 1880s-built home in northern Michigan. Not unpleasant, just distinctive. It could have been the old plumbing, but I chalked it up to 12 people having lived there, including seven sons and three daughters. Other rooms had their scents, too, including the kitchen and dining room (again, the 12 people), and my French Canadian Grampa’s den, which smelled of … smelly cigars (a good odor to me) and a constant wood fire. Sigh. That place was always home to me, though I only visited from time to time.

    Reply
  83. Here’s an offbeat one: The several bathrooms in my grandparents’ 1880s-built home in northern Michigan. Not unpleasant, just distinctive. It could have been the old plumbing, but I chalked it up to 12 people having lived there, including seven sons and three daughters. Other rooms had their scents, too, including the kitchen and dining room (again, the 12 people), and my French Canadian Grampa’s den, which smelled of … smelly cigars (a good odor to me) and a constant wood fire. Sigh. That place was always home to me, though I only visited from time to time.

    Reply
  84. Here’s an offbeat one: The several bathrooms in my grandparents’ 1880s-built home in northern Michigan. Not unpleasant, just distinctive. It could have been the old plumbing, but I chalked it up to 12 people having lived there, including seven sons and three daughters. Other rooms had their scents, too, including the kitchen and dining room (again, the 12 people), and my French Canadian Grampa’s den, which smelled of … smelly cigars (a good odor to me) and a constant wood fire. Sigh. That place was always home to me, though I only visited from time to time.

    Reply
  85. Here’s an offbeat one: The several bathrooms in my grandparents’ 1880s-built home in northern Michigan. Not unpleasant, just distinctive. It could have been the old plumbing, but I chalked it up to 12 people having lived there, including seven sons and three daughters. Other rooms had their scents, too, including the kitchen and dining room (again, the 12 people), and my French Canadian Grampa’s den, which smelled of … smelly cigars (a good odor to me) and a constant wood fire. Sigh. That place was always home to me, though I only visited from time to time.

    Reply
  86. Whenever percolating coffee, the aroma brings memories of antiquarian/second-hand book shops where you could browse old books and sit to drink coffee. There are still a few around providing exquisite pleasure.

    Reply
  87. Whenever percolating coffee, the aroma brings memories of antiquarian/second-hand book shops where you could browse old books and sit to drink coffee. There are still a few around providing exquisite pleasure.

    Reply
  88. Whenever percolating coffee, the aroma brings memories of antiquarian/second-hand book shops where you could browse old books and sit to drink coffee. There are still a few around providing exquisite pleasure.

    Reply
  89. Whenever percolating coffee, the aroma brings memories of antiquarian/second-hand book shops where you could browse old books and sit to drink coffee. There are still a few around providing exquisite pleasure.

    Reply
  90. Whenever percolating coffee, the aroma brings memories of antiquarian/second-hand book shops where you could browse old books and sit to drink coffee. There are still a few around providing exquisite pleasure.

    Reply
  91. Binnie, I think we’re all food oriented, and I guess that’s one of the reasons smell is so important to us — detecting whether food is safe to eat or not.
    As for your mother’s perfume, yes, I can imagine how evocative that little bottle must be.

    Reply
  92. Binnie, I think we’re all food oriented, and I guess that’s one of the reasons smell is so important to us — detecting whether food is safe to eat or not.
    As for your mother’s perfume, yes, I can imagine how evocative that little bottle must be.

    Reply
  93. Binnie, I think we’re all food oriented, and I guess that’s one of the reasons smell is so important to us — detecting whether food is safe to eat or not.
    As for your mother’s perfume, yes, I can imagine how evocative that little bottle must be.

    Reply
  94. Binnie, I think we’re all food oriented, and I guess that’s one of the reasons smell is so important to us — detecting whether food is safe to eat or not.
    As for your mother’s perfume, yes, I can imagine how evocative that little bottle must be.

    Reply
  95. Binnie, I think we’re all food oriented, and I guess that’s one of the reasons smell is so important to us — detecting whether food is safe to eat or not.
    As for your mother’s perfume, yes, I can imagine how evocative that little bottle must be.

    Reply
  96. Lovely post, Anne! My favourite has to be the smell of newly mown grass – when my husband is cutting the lawn it wafts in through the open back door and it’s heavenly! Like you, I also prefer real Christmas trees – coming down in the morning and being met with that pine scent makes it feel really Christmassy. And I love walking through a Swedish forest where you get that smell all the time, as well as the fresh moss and other greenery – bliss!

    Reply
  97. Lovely post, Anne! My favourite has to be the smell of newly mown grass – when my husband is cutting the lawn it wafts in through the open back door and it’s heavenly! Like you, I also prefer real Christmas trees – coming down in the morning and being met with that pine scent makes it feel really Christmassy. And I love walking through a Swedish forest where you get that smell all the time, as well as the fresh moss and other greenery – bliss!

    Reply
  98. Lovely post, Anne! My favourite has to be the smell of newly mown grass – when my husband is cutting the lawn it wafts in through the open back door and it’s heavenly! Like you, I also prefer real Christmas trees – coming down in the morning and being met with that pine scent makes it feel really Christmassy. And I love walking through a Swedish forest where you get that smell all the time, as well as the fresh moss and other greenery – bliss!

    Reply
  99. Lovely post, Anne! My favourite has to be the smell of newly mown grass – when my husband is cutting the lawn it wafts in through the open back door and it’s heavenly! Like you, I also prefer real Christmas trees – coming down in the morning and being met with that pine scent makes it feel really Christmassy. And I love walking through a Swedish forest where you get that smell all the time, as well as the fresh moss and other greenery – bliss!

    Reply
  100. Lovely post, Anne! My favourite has to be the smell of newly mown grass – when my husband is cutting the lawn it wafts in through the open back door and it’s heavenly! Like you, I also prefer real Christmas trees – coming down in the morning and being met with that pine scent makes it feel really Christmassy. And I love walking through a Swedish forest where you get that smell all the time, as well as the fresh moss and other greenery – bliss!

    Reply
  101. What a wonderful post today! I miss the scent of lilacs, they grew around my parent’s house and near my grandparents house. I haven’t seen lilacs since we moved to Georgia,US. I love the scent of eucalyptus, I would but bunches of it to make wreaths. I hope to see a gum tree one day!

    Reply
  102. What a wonderful post today! I miss the scent of lilacs, they grew around my parent’s house and near my grandparents house. I haven’t seen lilacs since we moved to Georgia,US. I love the scent of eucalyptus, I would but bunches of it to make wreaths. I hope to see a gum tree one day!

    Reply
  103. What a wonderful post today! I miss the scent of lilacs, they grew around my parent’s house and near my grandparents house. I haven’t seen lilacs since we moved to Georgia,US. I love the scent of eucalyptus, I would but bunches of it to make wreaths. I hope to see a gum tree one day!

    Reply
  104. What a wonderful post today! I miss the scent of lilacs, they grew around my parent’s house and near my grandparents house. I haven’t seen lilacs since we moved to Georgia,US. I love the scent of eucalyptus, I would but bunches of it to make wreaths. I hope to see a gum tree one day!

    Reply
  105. What a wonderful post today! I miss the scent of lilacs, they grew around my parent’s house and near my grandparents house. I haven’t seen lilacs since we moved to Georgia,US. I love the scent of eucalyptus, I would but bunches of it to make wreaths. I hope to see a gum tree one day!

    Reply
  106. I enjoyed this post and can only remember what something smelled like. I lost my sense of smell 8 years ago after a concussion. I still “smell things” but the odor is never right. I have memories of what they did smell like when I still could. It is nice to be able to remember, but such a disappointment when I cannot smell the odor.
    I have to be careful in the kitchen as I cannot smell when something is cooking or burning. I cannot smell gas or smoke so have to be more alert. I miss the odor of baked goods, cooking odors, flowers, wine and so much more – it also affects my taste buds which are shot.
    My parents every Christmas would singe a pine branch in a candle flame to spark off the oil and it gave such a nice smell – this was Christmas odor for them and they passed it on to us.

    Reply
  107. I enjoyed this post and can only remember what something smelled like. I lost my sense of smell 8 years ago after a concussion. I still “smell things” but the odor is never right. I have memories of what they did smell like when I still could. It is nice to be able to remember, but such a disappointment when I cannot smell the odor.
    I have to be careful in the kitchen as I cannot smell when something is cooking or burning. I cannot smell gas or smoke so have to be more alert. I miss the odor of baked goods, cooking odors, flowers, wine and so much more – it also affects my taste buds which are shot.
    My parents every Christmas would singe a pine branch in a candle flame to spark off the oil and it gave such a nice smell – this was Christmas odor for them and they passed it on to us.

    Reply
  108. I enjoyed this post and can only remember what something smelled like. I lost my sense of smell 8 years ago after a concussion. I still “smell things” but the odor is never right. I have memories of what they did smell like when I still could. It is nice to be able to remember, but such a disappointment when I cannot smell the odor.
    I have to be careful in the kitchen as I cannot smell when something is cooking or burning. I cannot smell gas or smoke so have to be more alert. I miss the odor of baked goods, cooking odors, flowers, wine and so much more – it also affects my taste buds which are shot.
    My parents every Christmas would singe a pine branch in a candle flame to spark off the oil and it gave such a nice smell – this was Christmas odor for them and they passed it on to us.

    Reply
  109. I enjoyed this post and can only remember what something smelled like. I lost my sense of smell 8 years ago after a concussion. I still “smell things” but the odor is never right. I have memories of what they did smell like when I still could. It is nice to be able to remember, but such a disappointment when I cannot smell the odor.
    I have to be careful in the kitchen as I cannot smell when something is cooking or burning. I cannot smell gas or smoke so have to be more alert. I miss the odor of baked goods, cooking odors, flowers, wine and so much more – it also affects my taste buds which are shot.
    My parents every Christmas would singe a pine branch in a candle flame to spark off the oil and it gave such a nice smell – this was Christmas odor for them and they passed it on to us.

    Reply
  110. I enjoyed this post and can only remember what something smelled like. I lost my sense of smell 8 years ago after a concussion. I still “smell things” but the odor is never right. I have memories of what they did smell like when I still could. It is nice to be able to remember, but such a disappointment when I cannot smell the odor.
    I have to be careful in the kitchen as I cannot smell when something is cooking or burning. I cannot smell gas or smoke so have to be more alert. I miss the odor of baked goods, cooking odors, flowers, wine and so much more – it also affects my taste buds which are shot.
    My parents every Christmas would singe a pine branch in a candle flame to spark off the oil and it gave such a nice smell – this was Christmas odor for them and they passed it on to us.

    Reply
  111. Terrific Post – Thank you.
    When I was a kid, there were not many other children around, so I would pack a sandwich and go on adventure alone into the woods …and the smell of mustard takes me back.
    We lived near Lake Michigan and that water had a special scent.
    Lilacs, puppy breath, gardenias, honey suckle,gasoline (not sure why), newly cut grass and on and on. Each of those scents remind me of a time in my past, or a person or a place.
    Mr Fitzgerald, an older man in Walkerton Indiana always smelled like Old Spice. He was kind and always smiled when I went to visit he and his wife. I was 4 and 5 then. Now that is a scent which always makes me smile and get tears in my eyes. He was one of the kindest people I ever knew.
    I hope everyone is staying safe and taking care.

    Reply
  112. Terrific Post – Thank you.
    When I was a kid, there were not many other children around, so I would pack a sandwich and go on adventure alone into the woods …and the smell of mustard takes me back.
    We lived near Lake Michigan and that water had a special scent.
    Lilacs, puppy breath, gardenias, honey suckle,gasoline (not sure why), newly cut grass and on and on. Each of those scents remind me of a time in my past, or a person or a place.
    Mr Fitzgerald, an older man in Walkerton Indiana always smelled like Old Spice. He was kind and always smiled when I went to visit he and his wife. I was 4 and 5 then. Now that is a scent which always makes me smile and get tears in my eyes. He was one of the kindest people I ever knew.
    I hope everyone is staying safe and taking care.

    Reply
  113. Terrific Post – Thank you.
    When I was a kid, there were not many other children around, so I would pack a sandwich and go on adventure alone into the woods …and the smell of mustard takes me back.
    We lived near Lake Michigan and that water had a special scent.
    Lilacs, puppy breath, gardenias, honey suckle,gasoline (not sure why), newly cut grass and on and on. Each of those scents remind me of a time in my past, or a person or a place.
    Mr Fitzgerald, an older man in Walkerton Indiana always smelled like Old Spice. He was kind and always smiled when I went to visit he and his wife. I was 4 and 5 then. Now that is a scent which always makes me smile and get tears in my eyes. He was one of the kindest people I ever knew.
    I hope everyone is staying safe and taking care.

    Reply
  114. Terrific Post – Thank you.
    When I was a kid, there were not many other children around, so I would pack a sandwich and go on adventure alone into the woods …and the smell of mustard takes me back.
    We lived near Lake Michigan and that water had a special scent.
    Lilacs, puppy breath, gardenias, honey suckle,gasoline (not sure why), newly cut grass and on and on. Each of those scents remind me of a time in my past, or a person or a place.
    Mr Fitzgerald, an older man in Walkerton Indiana always smelled like Old Spice. He was kind and always smiled when I went to visit he and his wife. I was 4 and 5 then. Now that is a scent which always makes me smile and get tears in my eyes. He was one of the kindest people I ever knew.
    I hope everyone is staying safe and taking care.

    Reply
  115. Terrific Post – Thank you.
    When I was a kid, there were not many other children around, so I would pack a sandwich and go on adventure alone into the woods …and the smell of mustard takes me back.
    We lived near Lake Michigan and that water had a special scent.
    Lilacs, puppy breath, gardenias, honey suckle,gasoline (not sure why), newly cut grass and on and on. Each of those scents remind me of a time in my past, or a person or a place.
    Mr Fitzgerald, an older man in Walkerton Indiana always smelled like Old Spice. He was kind and always smiled when I went to visit he and his wife. I was 4 and 5 then. Now that is a scent which always makes me smile and get tears in my eyes. He was one of the kindest people I ever knew.
    I hope everyone is staying safe and taking care.

    Reply
  116. Such lovely memories you’ve evoked, Anne, for so many of us! When I was in high school, I worked each summer for our local weekly newspaper. The office and printing facility was in a brick building with a tin roof and no cooling system, in the Southern US. Almost every afternoon during July and August, a thunderstorm would blow through, bringing a brief, ferocious rainfall. When it ended, we’d all go outside to enjoy a few moments of cool air before the usual humidity descended again. The smell of the pavement steaming, mixed with the smell of ink and lead type, is still so real to me after 50+ years. Our own version of “petrichor”!
    And while we, too, still have “real” Christmas trees, the true smell of the holidays to me is the scent of the newly starched and ironed tablecloth that I grew up with and now use in my own home. I probably shouldn’t admit it, but it’s definitely the only thing I starch and almost the only thing I iron!

    Reply
  117. Such lovely memories you’ve evoked, Anne, for so many of us! When I was in high school, I worked each summer for our local weekly newspaper. The office and printing facility was in a brick building with a tin roof and no cooling system, in the Southern US. Almost every afternoon during July and August, a thunderstorm would blow through, bringing a brief, ferocious rainfall. When it ended, we’d all go outside to enjoy a few moments of cool air before the usual humidity descended again. The smell of the pavement steaming, mixed with the smell of ink and lead type, is still so real to me after 50+ years. Our own version of “petrichor”!
    And while we, too, still have “real” Christmas trees, the true smell of the holidays to me is the scent of the newly starched and ironed tablecloth that I grew up with and now use in my own home. I probably shouldn’t admit it, but it’s definitely the only thing I starch and almost the only thing I iron!

    Reply
  118. Such lovely memories you’ve evoked, Anne, for so many of us! When I was in high school, I worked each summer for our local weekly newspaper. The office and printing facility was in a brick building with a tin roof and no cooling system, in the Southern US. Almost every afternoon during July and August, a thunderstorm would blow through, bringing a brief, ferocious rainfall. When it ended, we’d all go outside to enjoy a few moments of cool air before the usual humidity descended again. The smell of the pavement steaming, mixed with the smell of ink and lead type, is still so real to me after 50+ years. Our own version of “petrichor”!
    And while we, too, still have “real” Christmas trees, the true smell of the holidays to me is the scent of the newly starched and ironed tablecloth that I grew up with and now use in my own home. I probably shouldn’t admit it, but it’s definitely the only thing I starch and almost the only thing I iron!

    Reply
  119. Such lovely memories you’ve evoked, Anne, for so many of us! When I was in high school, I worked each summer for our local weekly newspaper. The office and printing facility was in a brick building with a tin roof and no cooling system, in the Southern US. Almost every afternoon during July and August, a thunderstorm would blow through, bringing a brief, ferocious rainfall. When it ended, we’d all go outside to enjoy a few moments of cool air before the usual humidity descended again. The smell of the pavement steaming, mixed with the smell of ink and lead type, is still so real to me after 50+ years. Our own version of “petrichor”!
    And while we, too, still have “real” Christmas trees, the true smell of the holidays to me is the scent of the newly starched and ironed tablecloth that I grew up with and now use in my own home. I probably shouldn’t admit it, but it’s definitely the only thing I starch and almost the only thing I iron!

    Reply
  120. Such lovely memories you’ve evoked, Anne, for so many of us! When I was in high school, I worked each summer for our local weekly newspaper. The office and printing facility was in a brick building with a tin roof and no cooling system, in the Southern US. Almost every afternoon during July and August, a thunderstorm would blow through, bringing a brief, ferocious rainfall. When it ended, we’d all go outside to enjoy a few moments of cool air before the usual humidity descended again. The smell of the pavement steaming, mixed with the smell of ink and lead type, is still so real to me after 50+ years. Our own version of “petrichor”!
    And while we, too, still have “real” Christmas trees, the true smell of the holidays to me is the scent of the newly starched and ironed tablecloth that I grew up with and now use in my own home. I probably shouldn’t admit it, but it’s definitely the only thing I starch and almost the only thing I iron!

    Reply
  121. When I was 8, we moved from Ohio to Norfolk, Virginia. This involved a long ride through the Appalachians on twisty mountain roads, and I was very carsick. To this day the smell of Chanel no.5 or Wrigleys spearmint gum makes me nauseous. My mom was wearing the perfume, and chewing the gum to fight her own nausea. Evidently I inherited the tendency to be carsick!

    Reply
  122. When I was 8, we moved from Ohio to Norfolk, Virginia. This involved a long ride through the Appalachians on twisty mountain roads, and I was very carsick. To this day the smell of Chanel no.5 or Wrigleys spearmint gum makes me nauseous. My mom was wearing the perfume, and chewing the gum to fight her own nausea. Evidently I inherited the tendency to be carsick!

    Reply
  123. When I was 8, we moved from Ohio to Norfolk, Virginia. This involved a long ride through the Appalachians on twisty mountain roads, and I was very carsick. To this day the smell of Chanel no.5 or Wrigleys spearmint gum makes me nauseous. My mom was wearing the perfume, and chewing the gum to fight her own nausea. Evidently I inherited the tendency to be carsick!

    Reply
  124. When I was 8, we moved from Ohio to Norfolk, Virginia. This involved a long ride through the Appalachians on twisty mountain roads, and I was very carsick. To this day the smell of Chanel no.5 or Wrigleys spearmint gum makes me nauseous. My mom was wearing the perfume, and chewing the gum to fight her own nausea. Evidently I inherited the tendency to be carsick!

    Reply
  125. When I was 8, we moved from Ohio to Norfolk, Virginia. This involved a long ride through the Appalachians on twisty mountain roads, and I was very carsick. To this day the smell of Chanel no.5 or Wrigleys spearmint gum makes me nauseous. My mom was wearing the perfume, and chewing the gum to fight her own nausea. Evidently I inherited the tendency to be carsick!

    Reply
  126. The mention of hens brought back a memory to me. I grew up in rural Ireland in a small cottage. We kept hens, a pig and sometimes a calf. There was a spot at the side of the house where a water butt stood and from here you could smell the hens and hear the cockerel crowing. My brother still lives there but the house has been extended a lot over the years. That spot is now in the hallway.
    However, sometimes when I walk into the yard and it’s a sunny evening and the wind is right, I can still get that smell and hear the cock and it brings back a happy time in my life to me.
    Thank you for this post which brought back precious memories to me.

    Reply
  127. The mention of hens brought back a memory to me. I grew up in rural Ireland in a small cottage. We kept hens, a pig and sometimes a calf. There was a spot at the side of the house where a water butt stood and from here you could smell the hens and hear the cockerel crowing. My brother still lives there but the house has been extended a lot over the years. That spot is now in the hallway.
    However, sometimes when I walk into the yard and it’s a sunny evening and the wind is right, I can still get that smell and hear the cock and it brings back a happy time in my life to me.
    Thank you for this post which brought back precious memories to me.

    Reply
  128. The mention of hens brought back a memory to me. I grew up in rural Ireland in a small cottage. We kept hens, a pig and sometimes a calf. There was a spot at the side of the house where a water butt stood and from here you could smell the hens and hear the cockerel crowing. My brother still lives there but the house has been extended a lot over the years. That spot is now in the hallway.
    However, sometimes when I walk into the yard and it’s a sunny evening and the wind is right, I can still get that smell and hear the cock and it brings back a happy time in my life to me.
    Thank you for this post which brought back precious memories to me.

    Reply
  129. The mention of hens brought back a memory to me. I grew up in rural Ireland in a small cottage. We kept hens, a pig and sometimes a calf. There was a spot at the side of the house where a water butt stood and from here you could smell the hens and hear the cockerel crowing. My brother still lives there but the house has been extended a lot over the years. That spot is now in the hallway.
    However, sometimes when I walk into the yard and it’s a sunny evening and the wind is right, I can still get that smell and hear the cock and it brings back a happy time in my life to me.
    Thank you for this post which brought back precious memories to me.

    Reply
  130. The mention of hens brought back a memory to me. I grew up in rural Ireland in a small cottage. We kept hens, a pig and sometimes a calf. There was a spot at the side of the house where a water butt stood and from here you could smell the hens and hear the cockerel crowing. My brother still lives there but the house has been extended a lot over the years. That spot is now in the hallway.
    However, sometimes when I walk into the yard and it’s a sunny evening and the wind is right, I can still get that smell and hear the cock and it brings back a happy time in my life to me.
    Thank you for this post which brought back precious memories to me.

    Reply
  131. It’s fun to read about everybody’s scent memories. I love the salt smell that comes off the ocean when the wind is blowing the right way, and the scent of my lilacs in the spring, which cannot be duplicated. I also love honeysuckle, and ripe, home grown tomatoes. Another scent that brings back memories is coffee roasting. I used to live a block away from a Maxwell House factory, and you could smell the coffee beans roasting day and night!

    Reply
  132. It’s fun to read about everybody’s scent memories. I love the salt smell that comes off the ocean when the wind is blowing the right way, and the scent of my lilacs in the spring, which cannot be duplicated. I also love honeysuckle, and ripe, home grown tomatoes. Another scent that brings back memories is coffee roasting. I used to live a block away from a Maxwell House factory, and you could smell the coffee beans roasting day and night!

    Reply
  133. It’s fun to read about everybody’s scent memories. I love the salt smell that comes off the ocean when the wind is blowing the right way, and the scent of my lilacs in the spring, which cannot be duplicated. I also love honeysuckle, and ripe, home grown tomatoes. Another scent that brings back memories is coffee roasting. I used to live a block away from a Maxwell House factory, and you could smell the coffee beans roasting day and night!

    Reply
  134. It’s fun to read about everybody’s scent memories. I love the salt smell that comes off the ocean when the wind is blowing the right way, and the scent of my lilacs in the spring, which cannot be duplicated. I also love honeysuckle, and ripe, home grown tomatoes. Another scent that brings back memories is coffee roasting. I used to live a block away from a Maxwell House factory, and you could smell the coffee beans roasting day and night!

    Reply
  135. It’s fun to read about everybody’s scent memories. I love the salt smell that comes off the ocean when the wind is blowing the right way, and the scent of my lilacs in the spring, which cannot be duplicated. I also love honeysuckle, and ripe, home grown tomatoes. Another scent that brings back memories is coffee roasting. I used to live a block away from a Maxwell House factory, and you could smell the coffee beans roasting day and night!

    Reply
  136. Thanks, Christina — I look forward to a walk — one day — through a Swedish forest. As for new mown grass, when I or my neighbors mow our lawns I always thrown open my windows to let that fresh fragrance blow through the house.

    Reply
  137. Thanks, Christina — I look forward to a walk — one day — through a Swedish forest. As for new mown grass, when I or my neighbors mow our lawns I always thrown open my windows to let that fresh fragrance blow through the house.

    Reply
  138. Thanks, Christina — I look forward to a walk — one day — through a Swedish forest. As for new mown grass, when I or my neighbors mow our lawns I always thrown open my windows to let that fresh fragrance blow through the house.

    Reply
  139. Thanks, Christina — I look forward to a walk — one day — through a Swedish forest. As for new mown grass, when I or my neighbors mow our lawns I always thrown open my windows to let that fresh fragrance blow through the house.

    Reply
  140. Thanks, Christina — I look forward to a walk — one day — through a Swedish forest. As for new mown grass, when I or my neighbors mow our lawns I always thrown open my windows to let that fresh fragrance blow through the house.

    Reply
  141. Do lilacs not grow in your neck of the woods, Maryellen? If so, that’s sad. I love it when my battered old lilac bursts forth into bloom. I can’t imagine buying gum leaves — though here the florists do include them in bouquets — but I just snip a few when I take my dog walking in the bush. The tree in my front yard is too tall for me to pick any leaves — though small twigs and branchlets do appear on the grass, compliments of the lorikeets feasting on the gum blossoms. I love having a vase full of gum leaves in the house, freshening the air.

    Reply
  142. Do lilacs not grow in your neck of the woods, Maryellen? If so, that’s sad. I love it when my battered old lilac bursts forth into bloom. I can’t imagine buying gum leaves — though here the florists do include them in bouquets — but I just snip a few when I take my dog walking in the bush. The tree in my front yard is too tall for me to pick any leaves — though small twigs and branchlets do appear on the grass, compliments of the lorikeets feasting on the gum blossoms. I love having a vase full of gum leaves in the house, freshening the air.

    Reply
  143. Do lilacs not grow in your neck of the woods, Maryellen? If so, that’s sad. I love it when my battered old lilac bursts forth into bloom. I can’t imagine buying gum leaves — though here the florists do include them in bouquets — but I just snip a few when I take my dog walking in the bush. The tree in my front yard is too tall for me to pick any leaves — though small twigs and branchlets do appear on the grass, compliments of the lorikeets feasting on the gum blossoms. I love having a vase full of gum leaves in the house, freshening the air.

    Reply
  144. Do lilacs not grow in your neck of the woods, Maryellen? If so, that’s sad. I love it when my battered old lilac bursts forth into bloom. I can’t imagine buying gum leaves — though here the florists do include them in bouquets — but I just snip a few when I take my dog walking in the bush. The tree in my front yard is too tall for me to pick any leaves — though small twigs and branchlets do appear on the grass, compliments of the lorikeets feasting on the gum blossoms. I love having a vase full of gum leaves in the house, freshening the air.

    Reply
  145. Do lilacs not grow in your neck of the woods, Maryellen? If so, that’s sad. I love it when my battered old lilac bursts forth into bloom. I can’t imagine buying gum leaves — though here the florists do include them in bouquets — but I just snip a few when I take my dog walking in the bush. The tree in my front yard is too tall for me to pick any leaves — though small twigs and branchlets do appear on the grass, compliments of the lorikeets feasting on the gum blossoms. I love having a vase full of gum leaves in the house, freshening the air.

    Reply
  146. Oh Margaret, what a pity. It must be so hard to have the memory and not the actuality. I love the idea of singeing the pine branch at Christmas — I’ve never heard of that before. I might try it. Here it’s an aboriginal tradition, adopted by many people, to “smudge” a house by burning eucalypt and other native leaves to “cleanse” a house. For me the smell was happily reminiscent of outdoor campfires.

    Reply
  147. Oh Margaret, what a pity. It must be so hard to have the memory and not the actuality. I love the idea of singeing the pine branch at Christmas — I’ve never heard of that before. I might try it. Here it’s an aboriginal tradition, adopted by many people, to “smudge” a house by burning eucalypt and other native leaves to “cleanse” a house. For me the smell was happily reminiscent of outdoor campfires.

    Reply
  148. Oh Margaret, what a pity. It must be so hard to have the memory and not the actuality. I love the idea of singeing the pine branch at Christmas — I’ve never heard of that before. I might try it. Here it’s an aboriginal tradition, adopted by many people, to “smudge” a house by burning eucalypt and other native leaves to “cleanse” a house. For me the smell was happily reminiscent of outdoor campfires.

    Reply
  149. Oh Margaret, what a pity. It must be so hard to have the memory and not the actuality. I love the idea of singeing the pine branch at Christmas — I’ve never heard of that before. I might try it. Here it’s an aboriginal tradition, adopted by many people, to “smudge” a house by burning eucalypt and other native leaves to “cleanse” a house. For me the smell was happily reminiscent of outdoor campfires.

    Reply
  150. Oh Margaret, what a pity. It must be so hard to have the memory and not the actuality. I love the idea of singeing the pine branch at Christmas — I’ve never heard of that before. I might try it. Here it’s an aboriginal tradition, adopted by many people, to “smudge” a house by burning eucalypt and other native leaves to “cleanse” a house. For me the smell was happily reminiscent of outdoor campfires.

    Reply
  151. Annette, isn’t it interesting how places have a special scent? Often you don’t realize it until you return there and smell it. A lot of people commenting on this post have mentioned the scent of lilacs — I’ll try to remember to post a lilac picture when my tree comes into bloom. And Old Spice is so evocative to so many. Your Mr Fitzgerald sounds like a lovely man.

    Reply
  152. Annette, isn’t it interesting how places have a special scent? Often you don’t realize it until you return there and smell it. A lot of people commenting on this post have mentioned the scent of lilacs — I’ll try to remember to post a lilac picture when my tree comes into bloom. And Old Spice is so evocative to so many. Your Mr Fitzgerald sounds like a lovely man.

    Reply
  153. Annette, isn’t it interesting how places have a special scent? Often you don’t realize it until you return there and smell it. A lot of people commenting on this post have mentioned the scent of lilacs — I’ll try to remember to post a lilac picture when my tree comes into bloom. And Old Spice is so evocative to so many. Your Mr Fitzgerald sounds like a lovely man.

    Reply
  154. Annette, isn’t it interesting how places have a special scent? Often you don’t realize it until you return there and smell it. A lot of people commenting on this post have mentioned the scent of lilacs — I’ll try to remember to post a lilac picture when my tree comes into bloom. And Old Spice is so evocative to so many. Your Mr Fitzgerald sounds like a lovely man.

    Reply
  155. Annette, isn’t it interesting how places have a special scent? Often you don’t realize it until you return there and smell it. A lot of people commenting on this post have mentioned the scent of lilacs — I’ll try to remember to post a lilac picture when my tree comes into bloom. And Old Spice is so evocative to so many. Your Mr Fitzgerald sounds like a lovely man.

    Reply
  156. Thanks, Constance — as I said, I don’t think “petrichor” is nearly evocative enough of the smell of rain on parched earth or a steaming pavement or a hot road — there have to be hundreds of variations. But it’s always glorious. I always open up the house after a thunderstorm to let that fragrance blow through.
    As for your starched and ironed tablecloth, I love that scent — it’s very evocative for me as well. Mum used to do that. In fact in my last book I mentioned the hero’s scent as being partly the scent of hot-pressed starched linen, and the copyeditor kept telling me that it wouldn’t smell. I did not change it. (Ps I also rarely iron, and almost never starch anything, but shhhh, don’t tell.)

    Reply
  157. Thanks, Constance — as I said, I don’t think “petrichor” is nearly evocative enough of the smell of rain on parched earth or a steaming pavement or a hot road — there have to be hundreds of variations. But it’s always glorious. I always open up the house after a thunderstorm to let that fragrance blow through.
    As for your starched and ironed tablecloth, I love that scent — it’s very evocative for me as well. Mum used to do that. In fact in my last book I mentioned the hero’s scent as being partly the scent of hot-pressed starched linen, and the copyeditor kept telling me that it wouldn’t smell. I did not change it. (Ps I also rarely iron, and almost never starch anything, but shhhh, don’t tell.)

    Reply
  158. Thanks, Constance — as I said, I don’t think “petrichor” is nearly evocative enough of the smell of rain on parched earth or a steaming pavement or a hot road — there have to be hundreds of variations. But it’s always glorious. I always open up the house after a thunderstorm to let that fragrance blow through.
    As for your starched and ironed tablecloth, I love that scent — it’s very evocative for me as well. Mum used to do that. In fact in my last book I mentioned the hero’s scent as being partly the scent of hot-pressed starched linen, and the copyeditor kept telling me that it wouldn’t smell. I did not change it. (Ps I also rarely iron, and almost never starch anything, but shhhh, don’t tell.)

    Reply
  159. Thanks, Constance — as I said, I don’t think “petrichor” is nearly evocative enough of the smell of rain on parched earth or a steaming pavement or a hot road — there have to be hundreds of variations. But it’s always glorious. I always open up the house after a thunderstorm to let that fragrance blow through.
    As for your starched and ironed tablecloth, I love that scent — it’s very evocative for me as well. Mum used to do that. In fact in my last book I mentioned the hero’s scent as being partly the scent of hot-pressed starched linen, and the copyeditor kept telling me that it wouldn’t smell. I did not change it. (Ps I also rarely iron, and almost never starch anything, but shhhh, don’t tell.)

    Reply
  160. Thanks, Constance — as I said, I don’t think “petrichor” is nearly evocative enough of the smell of rain on parched earth or a steaming pavement or a hot road — there have to be hundreds of variations. But it’s always glorious. I always open up the house after a thunderstorm to let that fragrance blow through.
    As for your starched and ironed tablecloth, I love that scent — it’s very evocative for me as well. Mum used to do that. In fact in my last book I mentioned the hero’s scent as being partly the scent of hot-pressed starched linen, and the copyeditor kept telling me that it wouldn’t smell. I did not change it. (Ps I also rarely iron, and almost never starch anything, but shhhh, don’t tell.)

    Reply
  161. Janet, carsickness is awful and I sympathize. We did a lot of long, all-day drives when I was a kid, and the smell of my dad’s pipe always made me sick. I think I still have a tendency to get sick in the car — pipe or not — so I try to be the one doing the driving, which somehow prevents it.

    Reply
  162. Janet, carsickness is awful and I sympathize. We did a lot of long, all-day drives when I was a kid, and the smell of my dad’s pipe always made me sick. I think I still have a tendency to get sick in the car — pipe or not — so I try to be the one doing the driving, which somehow prevents it.

    Reply
  163. Janet, carsickness is awful and I sympathize. We did a lot of long, all-day drives when I was a kid, and the smell of my dad’s pipe always made me sick. I think I still have a tendency to get sick in the car — pipe or not — so I try to be the one doing the driving, which somehow prevents it.

    Reply
  164. Janet, carsickness is awful and I sympathize. We did a lot of long, all-day drives when I was a kid, and the smell of my dad’s pipe always made me sick. I think I still have a tendency to get sick in the car — pipe or not — so I try to be the one doing the driving, which somehow prevents it.

    Reply
  165. Janet, carsickness is awful and I sympathize. We did a lot of long, all-day drives when I was a kid, and the smell of my dad’s pipe always made me sick. I think I still have a tendency to get sick in the car — pipe or not — so I try to be the one doing the driving, which somehow prevents it.

    Reply
  166. Thanks, Teresa, I’m glad you enjoyed the post. A friend of mine, who sometimes brings me eggs, has 5 hens (but no cockerel) in her small back yard, but it always smells pretty fresh, with lots of hay and greens scattered around. And her vegie garden is lush from the hen manure. I keep fantasizing about getting a few hens myself, but it never comes to anything.

    Reply
  167. Thanks, Teresa, I’m glad you enjoyed the post. A friend of mine, who sometimes brings me eggs, has 5 hens (but no cockerel) in her small back yard, but it always smells pretty fresh, with lots of hay and greens scattered around. And her vegie garden is lush from the hen manure. I keep fantasizing about getting a few hens myself, but it never comes to anything.

    Reply
  168. Thanks, Teresa, I’m glad you enjoyed the post. A friend of mine, who sometimes brings me eggs, has 5 hens (but no cockerel) in her small back yard, but it always smells pretty fresh, with lots of hay and greens scattered around. And her vegie garden is lush from the hen manure. I keep fantasizing about getting a few hens myself, but it never comes to anything.

    Reply
  169. Thanks, Teresa, I’m glad you enjoyed the post. A friend of mine, who sometimes brings me eggs, has 5 hens (but no cockerel) in her small back yard, but it always smells pretty fresh, with lots of hay and greens scattered around. And her vegie garden is lush from the hen manure. I keep fantasizing about getting a few hens myself, but it never comes to anything.

    Reply
  170. Thanks, Teresa, I’m glad you enjoyed the post. A friend of mine, who sometimes brings me eggs, has 5 hens (but no cockerel) in her small back yard, but it always smells pretty fresh, with lots of hay and greens scattered around. And her vegie garden is lush from the hen manure. I keep fantasizing about getting a few hens myself, but it never comes to anything.

    Reply
  171. Thanks, Karin. There is a coffee roasting place not far from me and when the wind is in the right direction I can smell it. I love coffee, and love the smell of freshly ground beans, but somehow the smell emitted by this place doesn’t appeal so much, so I’ve never bought their coffee. I’m glad I only smell it occasionally.
    That sharp salt scent of the ocean is wonderful isn’t it? If only manufacturers learned to duplicate some of the smells we’ve talked about here, instead of the sickly sweet pongs they make, I might even buy some air freshener. As it is, I’ll stick to natural sources and essential oils.

    Reply
  172. Thanks, Karin. There is a coffee roasting place not far from me and when the wind is in the right direction I can smell it. I love coffee, and love the smell of freshly ground beans, but somehow the smell emitted by this place doesn’t appeal so much, so I’ve never bought their coffee. I’m glad I only smell it occasionally.
    That sharp salt scent of the ocean is wonderful isn’t it? If only manufacturers learned to duplicate some of the smells we’ve talked about here, instead of the sickly sweet pongs they make, I might even buy some air freshener. As it is, I’ll stick to natural sources and essential oils.

    Reply
  173. Thanks, Karin. There is a coffee roasting place not far from me and when the wind is in the right direction I can smell it. I love coffee, and love the smell of freshly ground beans, but somehow the smell emitted by this place doesn’t appeal so much, so I’ve never bought their coffee. I’m glad I only smell it occasionally.
    That sharp salt scent of the ocean is wonderful isn’t it? If only manufacturers learned to duplicate some of the smells we’ve talked about here, instead of the sickly sweet pongs they make, I might even buy some air freshener. As it is, I’ll stick to natural sources and essential oils.

    Reply
  174. Thanks, Karin. There is a coffee roasting place not far from me and when the wind is in the right direction I can smell it. I love coffee, and love the smell of freshly ground beans, but somehow the smell emitted by this place doesn’t appeal so much, so I’ve never bought their coffee. I’m glad I only smell it occasionally.
    That sharp salt scent of the ocean is wonderful isn’t it? If only manufacturers learned to duplicate some of the smells we’ve talked about here, instead of the sickly sweet pongs they make, I might even buy some air freshener. As it is, I’ll stick to natural sources and essential oils.

    Reply
  175. Thanks, Karin. There is a coffee roasting place not far from me and when the wind is in the right direction I can smell it. I love coffee, and love the smell of freshly ground beans, but somehow the smell emitted by this place doesn’t appeal so much, so I’ve never bought their coffee. I’m glad I only smell it occasionally.
    That sharp salt scent of the ocean is wonderful isn’t it? If only manufacturers learned to duplicate some of the smells we’ve talked about here, instead of the sickly sweet pongs they make, I might even buy some air freshener. As it is, I’ll stick to natural sources and essential oils.

    Reply
  176. I can relate to your story of the buttered rolls 🙂
    For the most part I hated high school, but one pleasant memory I do have: Walking to school in the fall through the crunchy leaves of the maple trees that lined one particular street. In those days LA was more of a desert climate and much less built up, with warm to hot days but a steep temperature drop after sundown, so there would be frost on the grass. I’d get to school and go to the snack shack in the middle of the lunch area with its old benches with many coats of beige school paint (and their lumps because the benches were never sanded between paintings). The air would be filled with the fragrance from the Shack’s gigantic 5 inch by 5 inch just baked cinnamon raisin rolls. I would get a hot cocoa with a marshmallow in it and a cinnamon roll — and then I’d go to my 9 o’clock class and the good part of the day would be over.
    I’ve never been back to Alexander Hamilton High School, but if they still had those cinnamon rolls, it would be worth a visit 🙂

    Reply
  177. I can relate to your story of the buttered rolls 🙂
    For the most part I hated high school, but one pleasant memory I do have: Walking to school in the fall through the crunchy leaves of the maple trees that lined one particular street. In those days LA was more of a desert climate and much less built up, with warm to hot days but a steep temperature drop after sundown, so there would be frost on the grass. I’d get to school and go to the snack shack in the middle of the lunch area with its old benches with many coats of beige school paint (and their lumps because the benches were never sanded between paintings). The air would be filled with the fragrance from the Shack’s gigantic 5 inch by 5 inch just baked cinnamon raisin rolls. I would get a hot cocoa with a marshmallow in it and a cinnamon roll — and then I’d go to my 9 o’clock class and the good part of the day would be over.
    I’ve never been back to Alexander Hamilton High School, but if they still had those cinnamon rolls, it would be worth a visit 🙂

    Reply
  178. I can relate to your story of the buttered rolls 🙂
    For the most part I hated high school, but one pleasant memory I do have: Walking to school in the fall through the crunchy leaves of the maple trees that lined one particular street. In those days LA was more of a desert climate and much less built up, with warm to hot days but a steep temperature drop after sundown, so there would be frost on the grass. I’d get to school and go to the snack shack in the middle of the lunch area with its old benches with many coats of beige school paint (and their lumps because the benches were never sanded between paintings). The air would be filled with the fragrance from the Shack’s gigantic 5 inch by 5 inch just baked cinnamon raisin rolls. I would get a hot cocoa with a marshmallow in it and a cinnamon roll — and then I’d go to my 9 o’clock class and the good part of the day would be over.
    I’ve never been back to Alexander Hamilton High School, but if they still had those cinnamon rolls, it would be worth a visit 🙂

    Reply
  179. I can relate to your story of the buttered rolls 🙂
    For the most part I hated high school, but one pleasant memory I do have: Walking to school in the fall through the crunchy leaves of the maple trees that lined one particular street. In those days LA was more of a desert climate and much less built up, with warm to hot days but a steep temperature drop after sundown, so there would be frost on the grass. I’d get to school and go to the snack shack in the middle of the lunch area with its old benches with many coats of beige school paint (and their lumps because the benches were never sanded between paintings). The air would be filled with the fragrance from the Shack’s gigantic 5 inch by 5 inch just baked cinnamon raisin rolls. I would get a hot cocoa with a marshmallow in it and a cinnamon roll — and then I’d go to my 9 o’clock class and the good part of the day would be over.
    I’ve never been back to Alexander Hamilton High School, but if they still had those cinnamon rolls, it would be worth a visit 🙂

    Reply
  180. I can relate to your story of the buttered rolls 🙂
    For the most part I hated high school, but one pleasant memory I do have: Walking to school in the fall through the crunchy leaves of the maple trees that lined one particular street. In those days LA was more of a desert climate and much less built up, with warm to hot days but a steep temperature drop after sundown, so there would be frost on the grass. I’d get to school and go to the snack shack in the middle of the lunch area with its old benches with many coats of beige school paint (and their lumps because the benches were never sanded between paintings). The air would be filled with the fragrance from the Shack’s gigantic 5 inch by 5 inch just baked cinnamon raisin rolls. I would get a hot cocoa with a marshmallow in it and a cinnamon roll — and then I’d go to my 9 o’clock class and the good part of the day would be over.
    I’ve never been back to Alexander Hamilton High School, but if they still had those cinnamon rolls, it would be worth a visit 🙂

    Reply
  181. MMM, Janice, hot chocolate and fresh cinnamon raisin rolls would get the most reluctant kid to school I’m sure. I used to buy a few loaves of bread and make toast with butter and vegemite at one school I worked at, where a lot of the kids never had breakfast. That worked a treat, too

    Reply
  182. MMM, Janice, hot chocolate and fresh cinnamon raisin rolls would get the most reluctant kid to school I’m sure. I used to buy a few loaves of bread and make toast with butter and vegemite at one school I worked at, where a lot of the kids never had breakfast. That worked a treat, too

    Reply
  183. MMM, Janice, hot chocolate and fresh cinnamon raisin rolls would get the most reluctant kid to school I’m sure. I used to buy a few loaves of bread and make toast with butter and vegemite at one school I worked at, where a lot of the kids never had breakfast. That worked a treat, too

    Reply
  184. MMM, Janice, hot chocolate and fresh cinnamon raisin rolls would get the most reluctant kid to school I’m sure. I used to buy a few loaves of bread and make toast with butter and vegemite at one school I worked at, where a lot of the kids never had breakfast. That worked a treat, too

    Reply
  185. MMM, Janice, hot chocolate and fresh cinnamon raisin rolls would get the most reluctant kid to school I’m sure. I used to buy a few loaves of bread and make toast with butter and vegemite at one school I worked at, where a lot of the kids never had breakfast. That worked a treat, too

    Reply

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