Twice this morning I was called up in remembrance of my grandmother’s house in Maryland.
The first scent is one that triggers the memories often — the smell you get from a puff of un-ignited natural gas from the stove. Her stove was the first gas stove I had ever seen, and the smell of natural gas (or rather the smell of mercaptan and other additives) always reminds me of her kitchen. Even after almost fifteen years of cooking with gas myself, that smell still sets me off.
The second is “day-old fireplace.” We had a nice, cozy fire in our enclosed fire stove yesterday evening, and this morning there’s a smell coming from that end of the living room that reminds me of grandmother’s house during winter. It’s not the smoky smell — any residual smoke has been cleared out by the air filter I bought last winter. It’s kind of a wet ash smell that you can only pick up right at the fireplace.
Regardless of the source of the smells, the remembering was nice. Grandma has passed on, and that house was sold long ago, but I still have fresh memories right here… in my nose.