F Is For...

Fragrance.  Nothing is so evocative to memory as a whiff of something in the air.  The olfactory system is fully developed at birth.  Babies' eyes may not focus or, like puppies, may not even be open, but they will know their mother and others by their scent.  A veterinarian once told me that the sense of smell is the last to go, and to put my hand next to her nose to comfort a dying dog. 

I am Forever imprinted with the Fragrance of Farview.  When a goat burps, she blows out the clean scent of grain, almost sweet.  (I won't dwell on what she blows out the other end.)  A goat barn smells different from a horse barn, which is different from a cow barn, and so on; I find none of them unpleasant, and the barn means home to me.  I wear Eau de Goat every day.  There is nothing in the world like puppy breath.  The smells of new-mown grass, sheets fresh from the line, the first woodsmoke in the fall, brushing by pine and cedar trees in my woods, lilacs by the kitchen window.  The scent of just-cut wood, of which I've had too much lately; even that brings back memories of days spent with Steve cutting firewood in the forest.  As much as I detest the weed, the smell of bracken will remind me of Farview.  The pungent scent of skunk...yes, that's Farview, too.