Smelling Spring

October was a long time ago. Nearly six months have passed indoors, windows and doors shut. Heating system and fans on, but fresh air? No. Not one whiff of it.

I have a neighbor who often stops by after walking her dog. I smell something that I don’t immediately identify. Then it comes to me. Fresh air. Fresh air on her clothes, her dog’s fur, and so forth.

As spring ramps up (fitfully to be sure!), we open the sliding door if rain is not in the immediate forecast. I sit down in my recliner. I am distracted by a smell I have not encountered for a while. Yes, it is fresh air again.

Sitting at my computer, I open the window just a bit. It is a crank-out type which means its frame edges are exposed to the weather when open. Rain is the worst condition for this window, so I do not open it very often. But when I do, memory cells jump to action. Fresh air, especially of early spring, brings memories of the decades. Sometimes it is southern California at the base of the foothills above Pasadena. Next it is a forested glen, or a riverbank with strong currents of mountain snow melt. The aromas are magnificent.

In New England, the smells were different. More herbal, grassy, damp earth and moldering leaves from the previous fall just now peeking out from melting snow cover. Upstate New York is similar to New England but without the wild herbs.

Now, Illinois is more complex. In urban areas it is a mix of cooking smells, smoke, industrial aromas, earth ready for planting and damp earth/mud. Oh, and traffic, lots of traffic – buses, planes, trains and automobiles. All disperse their emanations that tug at memory cells.

As spring rains move in, the doors and windows are sealed against the damp. I’m cut off again from nature, just like winter months. A twinge of loss registers. The forecast, though, promises sun and warmth for the morrow. The windows will open again to meet the new season.

Then all will be well.

April 19, 2022

 

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