Oh my gosh, there are so many, and smell is a very strong trigger for me.
Ok, this memory is stronger tonight so here goes!
The men’s cologne “Old Spice” – it is very unique and it reminds me of my dad. As a small child I remember sitting with him and there was always that Old Spice smell which I came to love because I associated it with my dad💕
Then as I got older and helped with the wash, his clothes also had that scent-it lingered.
Not so popular today, I only occasionally catch a whiff, and the happy and troubled memories come flooding back. And I welcome them, as dad died 30 years ago this August💕🎣🏌️🍦☘️🥃✝️🪖🇺🇸🖨️
Oh goodness,
dear Cathie,
you have brought back my own memory of Old Spice . . .
my father too,
wore it,
and it always evokes warm thoughts of him too.
Thank you for this. ♥
I would have to say the smell of home made tomato sauce cooking. My Mom would make it often for many different dishes and the smell reminds me of her. She loved to cook and joined a gourmet couples group in later years. She learned to cook from my Nana (my Dad’s Mother).
My mother baked bread and would take loaves to newcomers and to friends. When i smell the yeasty aroma of fresh baked bread, I am reminded of my mother’s love and generosity.
Sometimes,
on certain days when I go to town
I feel like I can smell the sea
on one of those humid days in the summer,
when the wind is blowing warm and soft.
It must be my imagination,
but still I smell it.
When I was little,
my grandmother
often rented a small cottage on Fenwick Island in Delaware
and my family
would drive down with our red and white canvas umbrella,
our wooden beach chairs,
chocolate chip cookies to give to the men
who ran the toll booths on the New Jersey Turnpike,
and our dog,
half cocker spaniel and half beagle,
Betsy.
When we’d exit the turnpike
and turn towards the sea,
Betsy would perk up
and put her head out of the window of the car,
ears flapping in the breeze,
nose twitching in anticipation
long before we could smell the rich, briny scent of the sea.
It was always the moment I loved the most . . .
her recognition of where we were going.
The week or two that we’d spend there with my grandmother
were perhaps the happiest weeks of my year,
as I loved her with all my heart.
Forever kind,
always gentle,
she’d tell me stories of her youth in mining country in western Pennsylvania,
as she came from a family of miners . . .
she’d lean back in her chair
and stroke my hair with dreamy eyes,
remembering it all . . .
remembering.
I always associate the sand,
the salt,
the tang and the seaweed
with those summer days,
sheltered under the umbrella with her
in my ancient wool bathing suit,
while my brother and sister
(alas, no more)
played in the waves.
My grandmother,
who lost three sisters and two brothers
in a weeks’ time to scarlet fever,
and almost lost my grandfather to Typhoid . . .
who lined her windowsills with African violets,
and never had an unkind word to say about anyone . . .
who cut down her next door neighbor
when she was found hanging in her kitchen,
and always made sure she had English muffins in the house
when we came to visit.
I loved her more
than I even knew at the time.
The last time I went to the coast
was right before the covid pandemic,
and even then
I could sense the presence of my grandmother there . . .
in the salty fragrance,
the sand between my toes,
the sea shells tempting me on the sand,
and the keening of the gulls
catching currents in the wind. ♥
I share your love of your grandmother with both of mine, my Nanny and my Mom-Mom. Going to the beach is a summer ritual for most North-Eastern kids (we went to either Wildwood, Ocean City,NJ. , LBI, Brigantine – I have great memories of the Brigantine Castle.
Ah, you’ve made me miss my grandma – but with a smile on my face 🙂
I love how your dog knew she was going to the beach! Our dog, Ruger, gets so excited when he gets a whiff of that salty ocean air.
The smell of my skin reminds me of my dad because I remember one time he must of had an itchy hand cz je was kind of scratching it wth his teeth and he smelt his skin. Then I smelt it too and then at a later time in my life I smelt my skin on my hand or arm and and it smelt like my dad’s which reminded me of him. I will always be soo forever greatful for my dad for all the love he gave and for all of the things he did for me. He always gave me so much and really made my childhood great
My Dad often sterilized things in the bathroom with alcohol. Toothbrushes, maybe razors, and I don’t really know what else. Dad, was a frequent sterilizer of things, so the scent of alcohol (as in rubbing alcohol) reminds me of my Dad. Being a bit of a germophobe myself, this never bothered me. If anything, it was reassuring to me, knowing things were very clean. My Dad passed in May, 2010. I am used to him being gone now, but this took a very long time for me. I have some very sweet memories of my Dad. I remember that after visiting my parents, Dad would walk me out to my car. As I pulled out of the driveway, and onto the road, Dad would wave. He always looked as though he was beaming with pride and love. This is probably my fondest memory of my Dad. ♥️
Honey locust takes me back to the wonderful big yard of the house I grew up in, in farm country just outside of Lewiston, Idaho. We had lilacs, a snowball bush, roses, a big willow tree, an enormous garden, a crabapple tree with a hammock hanging in it, and the honey locust tree in the corner of the property where my older brothers built the “Freehouse Treehouse” for my younger sister and me. We’d sling a bag of books and snacks over our shoulders and climb up the boards nailed to the trunk, then read there for hours until we had to climb down to use the bathroom. The bees buzzed in the honey locust, drunk on their nectar, and didn’t bother us as long as we didn’t bother them, a lesson I’ve carried with me all my life. Our brothers were much older than we were and I’m grateful they put in the time to create a special space for us.
Two beloved family recipes put me in the kitchen with my mom baking: these bran muffins https://biketoworkbarb.blogspot.com/2024/07/classic-all-branbran-buds-muffin-recipe.html (a very handy recipe because you make a big batch and keep it in the fridge to bake a few at a time) and these oatmeal cookies https://biketoworkbarb.blogspot.com/2008/11/seriously-good-oatmeal-cookie-recipe.html (wonderful because they’re crispy and don’t have raisins, unlike all the soft chewy ones with the raisins that are masquerading as chocolate chips to fool the nearsighted people like me). My children, stepchildren and friends have all benefited from these recipes. I’m grateful for my skills in cooking, baking and canning that came as gifts from my mother.
I’m not sure what cleaning solution it is, but sometimes I’ll get a whiff and it takes me back to my great aunts kitchen- a small kitchen filled laughter and good food. It didn’t matter the amount of seats in the other room we found ourselves leaning against counter tops and walls.
Why it’s the smell of the cleaner she used and not the fabulous food, I don’t know.
During the pandemic, I spent a lot of time in the ponderosa pine forest. I learned about the ponderosas as I explored. Depending on the tree, the bark contains many scents, including vanilla, caramel, whiskey, and rain. I am so grateful to have had special time in the forest during an otherwise fraught year, and look back upon that time gratefully.
Whenever I smell that hotel detergent mixed with chlorine water I think of my last vacation with my mom before she took her life. I am so thankful to have had it and to remember it, and we bonded on such a deeper emotional level during it. It was the first vacation where I felt as though my mom was really focused on JUST us, she explored my passion of horses with me more and supported it, she bought me my first own pair of custom cowboy boots. We went to Medieval Times and a trail ride, she swam with me even though she did not care much for the pool.. Disney..
And my favorite piece of this memory is it always unlocks much more. The horseback ride makes me think of the state farm fair we went to where I rode a camel and went on a pony ride. Since I had been in lessons, my mom bragged, “she rides”, to the lady who was just trying to assist me with getting my shoe into the stirrup (lmao I love my mama) ! I got a cute glitter tattoo on my back to match my moms real back tattoo, and she thought it was so adorable.
Then I think of the times climbing in and out of the pool and her willing me to get out and me being relentless.
I cling to these memories so hard because I am so fearful of forgetting her, but then I think of these moments and I am reminded that she filled my life with enough love, joy, lessons, and compassion to last me multiple lifetimes, and as long as I stay true to myself I will always have a piece of her with me.
The following always lift my heart:
The distinct smell and also the taste of guavas brings back happy memories of childhood in Paraguay.
Linden trees in June in New England- a sweet, fresh fragrance in the busy city.
The distinct aroma of pIne trees in the plant places selling Christmas trees, and the pungent, refreshing aroma of pine when walking through a pine forest. I never can get enough of this smell.
Thank you for the reminder of Christmas tree lots. When I lived in Coeur d’Alene, Idaho, every year I went to one operated by a boys’ home. The boys sold the trees to us. I was always glad my money went to a good cause.
I love your story,
dear Barb,
of the Linden tree you passed by every day.
It seemed like
the tree was there,
blooming just for you
and the few other passersby
who ventured that way.
What a beautiful memory. ♥
One of my favorite summertime memories is that of Girl Scout Day Camp and all the smells and aromas that went with it…cooking over a campfire, hikes out in the pastures where both wildflowers, grasses of all kinds and cow patties were plentiful. Making crafts with natural supplies of dried flowers, the smell of sweaty little and big girls and their women leaders playing games and singing songs, using a latrine (😳), and the sweet, sweet fragrance of Ms. Louisa, the queen of Girl Scouting in our town and on whose land the camp was held, when she came out each day to tell us the story of the day – usually something about the history of Girl Scouting or the excellence of Girl Scouting. I loved her then and I love her still. I am so grateful I had that experience.
I’m no longer living with my family where I grew up, and I no longer live in the country where I was born. Whenever I smell freshly cooked rice permeating the entire house, it emotionally brings me back home with my parents. That smell of rice makes me believe that I am still in my home country, Vietnam, where we eat rice every day. Wherever I go and eat rice with others, it creates a sense of Vietnam. I’m grateful for the freedom of culture here where I’m living. Have a wonderful weekend!
Give yourself the gift of free bi-monthly inspiration including uplifting articles, diverse stories, supportive practices, videos, and more, delivered with heart to your inbox.
Oh my gosh, there are so many, and smell is a very strong trigger for me.
Ok, this memory is stronger tonight so here goes!
The men’s cologne “Old Spice” – it is very unique and it reminds me of my dad. As a small child I remember sitting with him and there was always that Old Spice smell which I came to love because I associated it with my dad💕
Then as I got older and helped with the wash, his clothes also had that scent-it lingered.
Not so popular today, I only occasionally catch a whiff, and the happy and troubled memories come flooding back. And I welcome them, as dad died 30 years ago this August💕🎣🏌️🍦☘️🥃✝️🪖🇺🇸🖨️
My dad also wore Old Spice. This makes me want to seek it out in a store and sneak a whiff.
Oh goodness,
dear Cathie,
you have brought back my own memory of Old Spice . . .
my father too,
wore it,
and it always evokes warm thoughts of him too.
Thank you for this. ♥
The aroma of Old Spice reminds me of my maternal Grandfather, Cathie. He died 50 years ago in 1976. Thanks for the memory.
I would have to say the smell of home made tomato sauce cooking. My Mom would make it often for many different dishes and the smell reminds me of her. She loved to cook and joined a gourmet couples group in later years. She learned to cook from my Nana (my Dad’s Mother).
My mother baked bread and would take loaves to newcomers and to friends. When i smell the yeasty aroma of fresh baked bread, I am reminded of my mother’s love and generosity.
. . . maybe my second favorite,
dear Richard. ♥
Sometimes,
on certain days when I go to town
I feel like I can smell the sea
on one of those humid days in the summer,
when the wind is blowing warm and soft.
It must be my imagination,
but still I smell it.
When I was little,
my grandmother
often rented a small cottage on Fenwick Island in Delaware
and my family
would drive down with our red and white canvas umbrella,
our wooden beach chairs,
chocolate chip cookies to give to the men
who ran the toll booths on the New Jersey Turnpike,
and our dog,
half cocker spaniel and half beagle,
Betsy.
When we’d exit the turnpike
and turn towards the sea,
Betsy would perk up
and put her head out of the window of the car,
ears flapping in the breeze,
nose twitching in anticipation
long before we could smell the rich, briny scent of the sea.
It was always the moment I loved the most . . .
her recognition of where we were going.
The week or two that we’d spend there with my grandmother
were perhaps the happiest weeks of my year,
as I loved her with all my heart.
Forever kind,
always gentle,
she’d tell me stories of her youth in mining country in western Pennsylvania,
as she came from a family of miners . . .
she’d lean back in her chair
and stroke my hair with dreamy eyes,
remembering it all . . .
remembering.
I always associate the sand,
the salt,
the tang and the seaweed
with those summer days,
sheltered under the umbrella with her
in my ancient wool bathing suit,
while my brother and sister
(alas, no more)
played in the waves.
My grandmother,
who lost three sisters and two brothers
in a weeks’ time to scarlet fever,
and almost lost my grandfather to Typhoid . . .
who lined her windowsills with African violets,
and never had an unkind word to say about anyone . . .
who cut down her next door neighbor
when she was found hanging in her kitchen,
and always made sure she had English muffins in the house
when we came to visit.
I loved her more
than I even knew at the time.
The last time I went to the coast
was right before the covid pandemic,
and even then
I could sense the presence of my grandmother there . . .
in the salty fragrance,
the sand between my toes,
the sea shells tempting me on the sand,
and the keening of the gulls
catching currents in the wind. ♥
Such wonderful memories. And so beautifully expressed. ♥️♥️♥️
I share your love of your grandmother with both of mine, my Nanny and my Mom-Mom. Going to the beach is a summer ritual for most North-Eastern kids (we went to either Wildwood, Ocean City,NJ. , LBI, Brigantine – I have great memories of the Brigantine Castle.
Ah, you’ve made me miss my grandma – but with a smile on my face 🙂
I love how your dog knew she was going to the beach! Our dog, Ruger, gets so excited when he gets a whiff of that salty ocean air.
I feel your deep love for your Grandmother, dear Sparrow.
The smell of my skin reminds me of my dad because I remember one time he must of had an itchy hand cz je was kind of scratching it wth his teeth and he smelt his skin. Then I smelt it too and then at a later time in my life I smelt my skin on my hand or arm and and it smelt like my dad’s which reminded me of him. I will always be soo forever greatful for my dad for all the love he gave and for all of the things he did for me. He always gave me so much and really made my childhood great
My Dad often sterilized things in the bathroom with alcohol. Toothbrushes, maybe razors, and I don’t really know what else. Dad, was a frequent sterilizer of things, so the scent of alcohol (as in rubbing alcohol) reminds me of my Dad. Being a bit of a germophobe myself, this never bothered me. If anything, it was reassuring to me, knowing things were very clean. My Dad passed in May, 2010. I am used to him being gone now, but this took a very long time for me. I have some very sweet memories of my Dad. I remember that after visiting my parents, Dad would walk me out to my car. As I pulled out of the driveway, and onto the road, Dad would wave. He always looked as though he was beaming with pride and love. This is probably my fondest memory of my Dad. ♥️
I love the smell of rubbing alcohol too – clean and sterile.
I love how your dad waved to as you drove off. That is really sweet!
It was especially sweet, SunnyPatti.
Thank you.
You made me smile,
dear Mary . . .
my husband and I
always wave to each other
when one of us drives out the driveway. 🙂
That is so lovely, Sparrow.
Honey locust takes me back to the wonderful big yard of the house I grew up in, in farm country just outside of Lewiston, Idaho. We had lilacs, a snowball bush, roses, a big willow tree, an enormous garden, a crabapple tree with a hammock hanging in it, and the honey locust tree in the corner of the property where my older brothers built the “Freehouse Treehouse” for my younger sister and me. We’d sling a bag of books and snacks over our shoulders and climb up the boards nailed to the trunk, then read there for hours until we had to climb down to use the bathroom. The bees buzzed in the honey locust, drunk on their nectar, and didn’t bother us as long as we didn’t bother them, a lesson I’ve carried with me all my life. Our brothers were much older than we were and I’m grateful they put in the time to create a special space for us.
Two beloved family recipes put me in the kitchen with my mom baking: these bran muffins https://biketoworkbarb.blogspot.com/2024/07/classic-all-branbran-buds-muffin-recipe.html (a very handy recipe because you make a big batch and keep it in the fridge to bake a few at a time) and these oatmeal cookies https://biketoworkbarb.blogspot.com/2008/11/seriously-good-oatmeal-cookie-recipe.html (wonderful because they’re crispy and don’t have raisins, unlike all the soft chewy ones with the raisins that are masquerading as chocolate chips to fool the nearsighted people like me). My children, stepchildren and friends have all benefited from these recipes. I’m grateful for my skills in cooking, baking and canning that came as gifts from my mother.
Thank you for the recipes 🙂
Barb, the oatmeal cookies look fabulous!
I’m not sure what cleaning solution it is, but sometimes I’ll get a whiff and it takes me back to my great aunts kitchen- a small kitchen filled laughter and good food. It didn’t matter the amount of seats in the other room we found ourselves leaning against counter tops and walls.
Why it’s the smell of the cleaner she used and not the fabulous food, I don’t know.
Thank you, Deann. Your last line gave me and my lovely wife Cheryl a good chuckle!
During the pandemic, I spent a lot of time in the ponderosa pine forest. I learned about the ponderosas as I explored. Depending on the tree, the bark contains many scents, including vanilla, caramel, whiskey, and rain. I am so grateful to have had special time in the forest during an otherwise fraught year, and look back upon that time gratefully.
I have always loved the ponderosa zones too, Drea.
That sounds heavenly, Drea!
What a beautiful time that must have been for you,
dear Drea.
I feel almost
as if I had pressed my cheek against one of ‘your’ trees. ♥
Whenever I smell that hotel detergent mixed with chlorine water I think of my last vacation with my mom before she took her life. I am so thankful to have had it and to remember it, and we bonded on such a deeper emotional level during it. It was the first vacation where I felt as though my mom was really focused on JUST us, she explored my passion of horses with me more and supported it, she bought me my first own pair of custom cowboy boots. We went to Medieval Times and a trail ride, she swam with me even though she did not care much for the pool.. Disney..
And my favorite piece of this memory is it always unlocks much more. The horseback ride makes me think of the state farm fair we went to where I rode a camel and went on a pony ride. Since I had been in lessons, my mom bragged, “she rides”, to the lady who was just trying to assist me with getting my shoe into the stirrup (lmao I love my mama) ! I got a cute glitter tattoo on my back to match my moms real back tattoo, and she thought it was so adorable.
Then I think of the times climbing in and out of the pool and her willing me to get out and me being relentless.
I cling to these memories so hard because I am so fearful of forgetting her, but then I think of these moments and I am reminded that she filled my life with enough love, joy, lessons, and compassion to last me multiple lifetimes, and as long as I stay true to myself I will always have a piece of her with me.
I am sorry for your loss. Thank you for sharing a beautiful reflection.
❤️
It sounds like in that last vacation your Mom gave you her full attention and love.
”…and as long as I stay true to myself I will always have a piece of her with me.”
You will carry this precious gift of her with you,
dear Valerie
in some part of you
forever. ♥
Thank you for sharing these memories, Valerie. They’re powerful. I feel moved.
The following always lift my heart:
The distinct smell and also the taste of guavas brings back happy memories of childhood in Paraguay.
Linden trees in June in New England- a sweet, fresh fragrance in the busy city.
The distinct aroma of pIne trees in the plant places selling Christmas trees, and the pungent, refreshing aroma of pine when walking through a pine forest. I never can get enough of this smell.
I enjoy Publix’s guava pastries – delicious.
I may get to go to Paraguay late this year if a sponsorship comes through for a work trip. It isn’t when guavas will be in season, but your mention has me looking up seasonal fruits (https://asunciontimes.com/paraguay-news/health-news/seasonal-fruits-in-paraguay-a-full-year-of-flavours/).
Thank you for the reminder of Christmas tree lots. When I lived in Coeur d’Alene, Idaho, every year I went to one operated by a boys’ home. The boys sold the trees to us. I was always glad my money went to a good cause.
Your mention of linden trees reminded me of a story from 2012, just as I was getting ready to move from Spokane to Seattle for a new job. https://bikestylelife.com/2012/07/12/a-small-moment/
I love your story,
dear Barb,
of the Linden tree you passed by every day.
It seemed like
the tree was there,
blooming just for you
and the few other passersby
who ventured that way.
What a beautiful memory. ♥
Guavas. yum!
The smell of baked bread brings me back to my grandmother’s house with all her loving.
One of my favorite summertime memories is that of Girl Scout Day Camp and all the smells and aromas that went with it…cooking over a campfire, hikes out in the pastures where both wildflowers, grasses of all kinds and cow patties were plentiful. Making crafts with natural supplies of dried flowers, the smell of sweaty little and big girls and their women leaders playing games and singing songs, using a latrine (😳), and the sweet, sweet fragrance of Ms. Louisa, the queen of Girl Scouting in our town and on whose land the camp was held, when she came out each day to tell us the story of the day – usually something about the history of Girl Scouting or the excellence of Girl Scouting. I loved her then and I love her still. I am so grateful I had that experience.
I’m no longer living with my family where I grew up, and I no longer live in the country where I was born. Whenever I smell freshly cooked rice permeating the entire house, it emotionally brings me back home with my parents. That smell of rice makes me believe that I am still in my home country, Vietnam, where we eat rice every day. Wherever I go and eat rice with others, it creates a sense of Vietnam. I’m grateful for the freedom of culture here where I’m living. Have a wonderful weekend!
My Ngoc, the beauty of the US is that we get to keep our culture here.
The smell of curry reminds me of one of my favorite meals my mom regularly cooks in chicken curry noodle soup with mushrooms.