~ Hay ~
Growing up my family always had horses. Mom and Dad had a beautiful Roan colored mare named Lady. Over the years my brother and sister-in-law had several Tennessee Walking horses. I would go with them out to “The Barn” to feed, cleanup, ride and to watch others ride. There was just something calming about hanging out at the horse barn. The smell of hay and other horsey smells triggers fond memories of being with them and enjoying the love we all shared for these beautiful horses and each other.
~ Sweet Olive Tree ~
I can still picture my Mother-in-law and Father-in-law sitting on their front porch. On the porch sat an old glider and maybe three chairs. You know the kind, metal, old, a little rusty and perhaps with a few loose screws causing the glider and chairs to squeak.
We would all gather on their porch, usually after a fabulous dinner. Racing to be the first out there, because if you didn’t get a chair or find room on the glider you had to sit on the porch steps. No problem the porch steps were just fine and they didn’t squeak.
Growing next to the porch was a beautiful, gnarly, Sweet Olive tree. When this tree bloomed its tiny, white flowers the scent was like no other. The heavenly scent of blooming Sweet Olive trees always brings me back in time to their front porch with wonderful memories of family gatherings. I loved them dearly.
~ The Sea ~
My Mom, younger sister and I would go on a summer vacation to the Gulf of Mexico – maybe Mississippi, but most often Florida. The smells along the shore of the Gulf trigger happy memories of laying on the beach, eating a picnic lunch, giggling uncontrollably about nothing, creating sand castles, swimming and just being with Mom and Sis. We would always miss Dad, because he never went with us, more often then not he worked a six day week. He worked as a carpenter, long hours, hard work. Mom also worked, so having uninterrupted time with her was extremely special.
~ Freshly Cut Grass ~
As a young child growing up in Louisiana, in the early days without air conditioning, my family and I would sleep with our windows open. My Dad would get up early, usually on the weekend and start cutting grass. The heavy southern rains always brought plenty of luscious grass to play on.
The smell of freshly mowed grass, along with the humming sound of the lawn mower, triggers a very delightful memory of being a child, sleeping late and waking up feeling happy knowing it was Dad’s day off.
To this day when I smell freshly mowed grass or hear the distant sound of a running lawnmower, it conjures up memories of Dad. A happy time indeed.
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