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.
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.
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.
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.
To 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.
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.