The Power of Fragrance

One sniff of this cologne and I’m transported back in time to about the age of ten watching my mom get ready for a night out with her grown up friends. She didn’t wear scent often, only for special occasions or while travelling by plane which of course, back then was a dressy affair. This fragrance is 4711, the famous cologne from Cologne, Germany. On nearly every trip to Germany my mom returned home with a bottle (as well as Nivea lotion and sturdy new shoes for all). I picked up this bottle at a thrift store for next to nothing, and while I don’t wear it, I like having it. I like looking at the bottle with its ornate blue and gold design. It comforts me and reminds me of those wonderful days in my youth when we jaunted overseas for long weekends to visit family and friends (we flew for free because my father worked for Lufthansa). All of these memories come back with a single sniff and for that reason I’ll keep this second-hand bottle forever.

My scent of choice has been Allure Sensuelle by Channel. It’s not a wimpy scent, a little goes a long way and it lasts all day. I’ve not come across too many other people who wear it which is a plus. If my children come across this scent or one with similar notes down the road in their lives, I hope it conjures happy memories of me and their childhood. But who knows what scents might trigger a fond memory (or a bad one for that matter), it could be anything -- baking cookies, a campfire, sagebrush after the rain. I am intrigued by the power of fragrance to instantly transport the mind to another time and place.

Do you have any powerful associations with a particular perfume or scent? Also I’ve been considering reading the novel Perfume by Peter Susskind about a boy who is born with the musical equivalent of a perfect pitch sense of smell. It takes place in 18^th century Paris and takes a murderous turn. Apparently this was made into a film as well, any reviews on that?   

A Welcome Guest

We had a special visitor this weekend. He came unannounced and made himself right at home which was fine with us. Our guest was a four-point mule deer buck who amid a lovely snowstorm settled down to the business of pawing through the snow to eat old apples that I didn’t manage to get picked up during the fall yard cleanup. He watched as my husband shoveled snow from the deck, not so much warily, as interested. A beautiful specimen with a thick neat brown coat, he was solidly built and obviously well fed (thank goodness, I hate seeing them scrawny). I am always amazed how that crown of antlers just disappears amid the winter shrubbery, and how if he remained absolutely still we probably would not have even noticed him.

What a treat to see this lovely wonder of nature in our back yard, which is located “in town.” Of course we had to keep Maddy the Dog inside which she did not like one bit, but manners dictated that our guest have use of the yard as long as he wanted it.

Even though I live in a place where seeing deer is not uncommon, it is usually from a distance or through the window of a car.  When they come into our personal space, it is truly magical, a sort of blessing, a delight The photos are of last year’s visitor, I was too afraid I’d break the spell if I ran to get the camera.

Did I Kill the Dog?

That was the thought churning through my head the other day, when our beasty a.k.a. Maddy was no where to be found. Our electronic dog fence was vandalized by either the transient bears that roam through our back yard in search of rotten apples or the delinquent raccoons that prowl the night and love nothing more than to rabble rouse.

It was a sunny day and Maddy loves nothing more than to soak up the rays on the back deck. I was working and didn’t think of her until hours later when she was no where to be found. I called for her, patrolled the neighborhood, enlisted the help of the local animal control officer, asked the trash man to keep an eye out, and set every kid with a bike on patrol. I went down to the river, to the dog park, even to the high school where kids play hacky sack and frisbee. She was nowhere to be found. Now the sun was setting and the temps were dropping. Where could she be? By this time the animal control officer had checked in to inform me that she had not spotted our runaway either. She braced me for the fact that if she was hit by a car, it would be the Streets and Parks department that would be calling me. At this point I am picturing a shovel and dump truck.

I felt the worst was imminent. Having done everything possible, I decided to sweep the neighborhood once more. Was that a flash of brown leg in my peripheral vision? Better go check. Across the street and two houses down I found my beasty. She was shaking and scared, buy why? It was then I noticed the back door to my neighbor’s house ajar. She has a lever door handle and a dog of her own that Maddy is friendly with. Speculation leads us to the conclusion that Maddy opened the door, let herself in, hung out with her pal Denton, and couldn’t figure out how to get out of the house (I never said she was the sharpest tool in the shed). I’m sure she heard me calling and was doing her best to get to me. Other than a loss of heat in my neighbor’s house, no harm was done. Home safe and sound, now it’s easy to joke about Maddy’s growing rap sheet which now includes breaking and entering, trespassing and hit and run (but that’s a story for another time). Needless to say, fixing the fence is a top priority, in the meantime I’ve turned up the heat in the entryway where the tiles get toasty warm and Maddy likes to curl up almost as much as in the sun.

It’s Finally Snowing!

This is what I woke to up this morning. At long last, the snow has arrived, covering everything in sight with a fluffy blanket of white. I’ll let Ogden Nash take it from here:

Winter Morning

Winter is the king of showmen,

Turning tree stumps into snow men

And houses into birthday cakes

And spreading sugar over the lakes.

Smooth and clean and frost white

The world looks good enough to bite.

That’s the season to be young,

Catching snowflakes on your tongue
Snow is snowy when it’s snowing

I’m sorry it’s slushy when it’s going.

Simple Pleasure: An Old English (possibly French) Pub Game

Like most families, we are a busy bunch. Everyone is running in a different direction, making it hard to connect with one another especially during swimming and mock trial seasons. One of our family traditions that has gotten a lot of play over the years and continues to be a source of spontaneous fun for us is a game called Shut-the-Box. We keep it on the kitchen table so it’s easy to reach for anytime two or more of us are sitting down together. We’ve been playing this game since the girls were small, they’re teenagers now and it still has not lost its appeal.

According to the game, Shut-the-Box is a traditional English pub game of dice and numbers. The object is to roll the dice and lay down all the numbered tiles and “shut the box,” or be the player with the lowest score. Some say the game originated in 12^th century France where it was popular with Norman sailors and fishermen as a gambling vice. Despite its salty past, it’s a great game for all ages. Yes, it teaches number sense, probability and strategy to youngsters, but more importantly it’s quick and engaging for all -- just the thing to regroup, even if all you have is five minutes with your kiddo before she’s off to the next thing.