“For the sense of smell, almost more than any other, has the power to recall memories and it is a pity we use it so little.”
~Rachel Carson

I find myself surrounded by incredible scents. We have just arrived in San Diego for a few days vacation and time with family. As quick as our legs would take us upon our arrival at the airport, we walked outside to just smell the warm, moist air. The ocean was not far off our noses told us. As our eyes took in the green grass and the swaying palm trees, we were also flooded with a wash of flowery scents. It was a delight after so many months of frigid, sterile Midwestern air. And so have found myself walking up to nearly every green and blossoming plant, not only drinking in the color, but absorbing the richness of scent. Ahhhh……..

It is said that our sense of smell is most tied to memory. Most recently I was walking through a store and got the overwhelming sense of my grandmother who died over twenty years ago. I still don’t know what the smell was but it was some mix of flowery, sweetness that sent me back to times snuggled safely in her tiny house as we sat at a card table tackling the challenge of a jigsaw puzzle. The scent of memory has the power to conjure up so many experiences.

I recall a conference I attended many years ago on the subject of the spirituality of children. The opening ritual invited those in attendance to share their earliest memory of worship. I was struck with the memories of those whose traditions involved the sense of smell….sweet oil, incense, candles. Their memories were described in rich detail and represented experiences of a much earlier age than those whose tradition had abandoned these worship practices. I remember feeling sad that my own tradition had, over the years, been stripped of these practices.

And yet I perhaps will never smell the perfume Evening in Paris(do they still make this?) without thinking of worship services in my little church in southern Ohio. Positioned between my mother and my brothers I could smell the exotic, fruity scent of my mother’s perfume wafting in the humid, heavy air. My father’s Old Spice aftershave was no doubt filling my brother’s head with equally tranquilizing thoughts. These scents were not created for liturgical means but they provided the backdrop for the scripture and prayers of our tradition to be seeded in our hearts and minds. These seemingly elegant smells relegated to dress-up clothes and special occasions were not the scents of our every day. Combined with the peppermints we were secretly handed from the hidden treasure chest of my mother’s purse,we were kept quiet and attentive in worship by perfume and candy. Though not traditional elements of worship, they make up my sense memory to this day.

The power of our sense of smell gets neglected during Minnesota winters. But as the snow continues to melt and the Earth once again comes to life before our eyes and under our noses, the memories of experiences planted deep within us will float to the forefront. They are to be celebrated and honored for the gifts they continue to offer. Gifts of the present and also days long gone by.

Today I will continue to add to the my bank of scent memory. The native Californians may notice a woman stopping to smell every colorful flower she sees. Like the humming bird I saw yesterday hovering over the red flowers of an azalea bush, I will be collecting. Collecting the memories of scent to store away for another winter when I will need their sweetness and their assurance of life renewed.