Monday, 28 March 2011
I love the smell of wisteria and pine trees. Wet pine needles in a bucket turning slightly swampy. tied to a tree to make the birds a warm nest over the frost. Wisteria on the breeze as I hang precariously from the tree, binding the ugly blue bucket to its trunk.
I love the smell of downy soft wattle, honey sweet and delicate. What fairies must smell like. Soft grey foliage that highlights the bright sunshine of the perfect blooms and holding hands for the first time.
I love the smell of WestCoast coolers, sweet and sickly. Backyard barbeques and adults lauging while children scoot between plastic outdoor furniture playing hard.
I love the smell of sparklers, dancing in the long narrow back garden and making circles. The hiss and fizz amd watching the sparks hit the grass. The pungent smell of them while cupping the fallen sparks in my hand until the last of the light is gone and the piping hot wires are plunged into Dad's waiting bucket.
I love the smell of overripe mangos in the sun. Pocked skin and finding half green ones hanging from trees. Picking one with only half of it blemished and eating the warm sweet flesh as the juice runs down my chin. Dancing on the blue painted trestles under the trees and singing songs made up out of my own head. Desperate tales of love and loss.
I love the smell of jacaranda flowers before they sour on the ground. The way it intensifies in the heat. Sitting in the tree, high above the ground making houses in the air.
I love the smell of fresh cut cedar. Distinctive green leaves and a fence with trees evenly spaced. Paper daisies. Sandcastles in the twilight glowing.
I love the smell of the approaching storm. When the cirrus clouds form overhead to herald the rain but the sun is yet scorching. The gust of sweet breath before it arrives and buckets down.
I love the smell of warm skin under cotton. The heat that rises through and blends so that it tastes and smells of warmth. Resisting the urge to bury my face in it and never come up for air.