I have a good nose, as they say, an acute sense of smell. This can be a disheartening thing, especially when I can smell some deep-down rot inside the pipes beneath the garbage disposal, or the scent of cow manure in someone’s backyard down the hill, more than a block away. Usually, I sniff for good things. Remember Steve Martin in “Roxanne” going out to find the fire?
It’s not just the scent of things, it’s the memories the scents bring. The earth after a heavy rain reminds me of growing up in the country and waiting for the bus at the end of the long driveway. The scent of ironed cotton (yes, I iron) reminds me of Mom’s “mangle”. She used to sit in the back porch laundry and mangle pillow cases and table cloths, Dad’s dress shirts and pants. I love the scent of sweet peas which remind me of Mom Edith and Dad Bill, my in-laws. Mom loved sweet peas and Dad did his best to find them for their wedding. He failed...