Mmmmmm.... every time I walked into the garden in mid-June, the scent of the rambling rose which fills the south-facing fence greeted me, made me smile, made me thankful. Honey-rich, musky, it filled the air. Now it's over for another year (it doesn't repeat flower), but it's been replaced by the first sweet peas. And by other roses, and the lavender by the cabin. Other times, other places have their aroma too; the jasmine by the gate at Katafiyo, the retreat centre in Cyprus; the first scent of indoor hyacinths just after Christmas. The list goes on, as do more unwelcome aromas- the mornings we go outside and realise, from what I shall call 'the agricultural smells' that we live close to farms; the pungency of fish, or rotting vegetation.
Am I right in thinking that under normal circumstances, the sense of smell is the last to desert us? Aromas take us quickly back to the land of memories- think madeleines, and what poured forth from the aroma of those biscuits in the hands, or more properly the pen, of Marcel Proust.....
St Paul writes that 'we are to God the pleasing aroma of Christ' perhaps reflecting the ancient hope of the prophet Hosea that 'Israel shall be fragrant like the cedars of Lebanon;.- it's quite a thought, quite a responsibility. To bring a smile to the face of God, as it were. And to leave a lingering memory of sweetness, richness; something which makes one stop and dwell in the moment, thankful- is this our legacy to those around us?Mmmmmmm........
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