The scent of nostalgia

[Wayland]

An interesting divergence occurred on the Trench Candle thread about smell and it's power to evoke strong memories.

I was thinking about this just the other day as I used a belt sander on a piece of oak and a blast of unexpected “woodsmoke” aroma hit my nostrils. For a moment I was transported far away to a different place, a long way from the troubles of our time now.

So, a simple question and the chance to be as nostalgic as you like.

What do you sometimes smell that gives you memories of another place, time or person?

 

[Toddy]

Sawdust and shavings, and I'm a toddler watching my Dad build a boat.
I can still feel the shiny smooth shavings and smell the wood. Dad's tools were always razor sharp and the shavings were nearly transparent, they curled and blew like feathers in the wind.

At Christmas time I bought a pack of mixed shavings from a wood turner. I wanted Port Orford cedar to make pot pourri for the house. I hate artificial air fresheners, but real scents are a background smell of home to me.
He included a bag of shavings from a very old Caledonian Pine and the smell when I opened the bag took me right back My Dad died over thirty years ago. I still miss him.

We're washing our hands so much just now that I've been using up all those fancy little gift bar soaps. I kept them in a big glass jar on a shelf in the bathroom. I have no idea what some of them are now apart from 'soap', but the one I'm using in the sink in the downstairs loo has a lovely gentle scent that smells like the talcum my Mum used. I have no idea what it was, but I find myself washing my hands and thinking of my Mum. Mum died ten years before my Father did, and I still miss her very much too.

Sorry Wayland, I got a bit maudlin there.

On a happier note, Son2 is working from home and I'm baking almost daily again. He's tall, broad shouldered but lean, with no need to watch his weight, and it's fun to bake.
I came across an old recipe that one of my Aunts had given me. It was titled 'Aunt Mary's Gingerbread', and since my parents were cousins, that Aunt Mary was my Granny; my Mum's Mum. I made up the recipe and as it baked I realised that that old fashioned mix of spices was my Granny's kitchen and all the warmth and love therein. It was enough of a smell to bring my son down from his room looking for tea and cake and as I watched him wolf if down I realised that he was eating the same cake that my Granny made for my Grandpa and that my son was built very much like his Great Grandpa. I could almost see my Grandpa sitting there at the table with tea and gingerbread too.

Life goes on, and as an old lady said, "Your family's your family, even when they're no' here now". Funny how it's smell that brings them back though.

The little tinder bundles that I make at the end of Summer, that I stuff with all the leftovers from my years work. They end up with everything that's flammable in them.
Birchbark from down the castle policies, mugwort from a walk over the river, heather from the hillside near Callander, Chaga from near Inverness, bog myrtle from Loch Tay.....and the smell when they're lit reminds me of all those places and the people I worked with



Mary

 

[TLM]

I do recognize the effect, hasn't been of much use lately as I am just regaining my sense of smell. Dejavue all over again.

 

[Wayland]

Snip> Sorry Wayland, I got a bit maudlin there. <Snip


Mary

No need to apologise at all, they were all beautiful memories. exactly the sort of thing I hoped this thread might bring out.

I didn't know your father was a boat builder. A fine old craft.

The divergence I mentioned was about the smell of paraffin. It reminds me of my Nan's house up in Tebay, Westmorland as it was then.

We used to spend a couple of long holidays a year up there, Easter and Summer. Dad used to particularly enjoy trout fishing in the Lune.

Nan used to run coal fires in the living room and the kitchen range. To light them up she used kindling which she soaked with paraffin standing in an old paint tin which she kept in the kitchen porch. The kitchen was the daytime heart of the house, all flagstones, scrubbed wood and rag rugs but the smell of that paraffin was always creeping in too.

I learned to use an axe there, very young, because she would have a railway sleeper dragged up from the old rail yards, four generations of my family worked the rail there before the Beeching cuts. Once the sleeper was in the yard it was my brother and I's job to cut and split it into those kindling sticks. I was too small to use the saw but I could handle the axe well enough.

They were already soaked with Creosote so I'm not sure they needed the paraffin but they certainly did the job.

The morning ritual in the living room was to clean the grate, lay the new fire along with those sticks and then float a flaming sheet of newspaper up the chimney to burn out the soot. I used to love that moment.

Because the kindling lay in the grate until the fire was lit in the evening, that paraffin smell lingered in the living room as well.

 

[bobnewboy]

Its Play-Doh for me. The smell of it immediately takes me back to a very happy childhood.

 

[Wayland]

Its Play-Doh for me. The smell of it immediately takes me back to a very happy childhood.

I bet you are right. I've no kids so have had no occasion to smell it since I was young but I do recall it had a strong smell.

 

[crosslandkelly]

Cinnamon does it for me, takes me back to an 8-9 year old me collecting these.

 

[Wayland]

Bubble gum for me was that weird fruity smell and taste that was like no fruit I ever came across.

Even now I would define it as it's own taste. "Like bubblegum"

Cinnamon is a Christmas smell for me.

 

[oldtimer]

The smell of recent rain on dry earth does it for me every time. It happened the day before yesterday as we took a stroll across the fields outside the village. It brings back early memories of being taken camping by my parents when I was a child.

I have many treasured childhood memories of outdoor adventures and know our two now middle aged sons do too. In their turn they are building a store of memories for our grand children. Some of my favourite BushcraftUK postings are those by members reporting on their own activities with their children: the thought of those children being able, like me, to recall happy events in 70 years time gives me pleasure now.

 

[Wayland]

I suspect as I get older it may be one of my few regrets, not having children.

So far though it has enabled me to do many things that I would simply not have been able to afford had my limited income had more important priorities.

 

[Bishop]

Hot engine oil on a dusty concrete floor with a sweet hint of petrol and for an instant I'm twelve again helping my grandfather in the Park Road garage.

 

[oldtimer]

I suspect as I get older it may be one of my few regrets, not having children.

So far though it has enabled me to do many things that I would simply not have been able to afford had my limited income had more important priorities.

There is plenty of evidence on this site to show that you have enabled many other people to have some good memories even if they're not related to you.

 

[bobnewboy]

Cinnamon is a Christmas smell for me.

Oh, that’s another one for me. I associate that scent with my time spent living and working in Stockholm - cold, dry, bright blue winter skies, plenty of snow, and the all-pervading smell of kanelbullar in many of the Tunnelbana (underground) stations. Fantastic little cinnamon buns, so good with a cup of strong black coffee! We’ve tried making our own, and the scent is very comforting, but they’re never *quite* the same

Cheers, Bob

 

[Wayland]

There is plenty of evidence on this site to show that you have enabled many other people to have some good memories even if they're not related to you.

Very kind of you to say but your legacy will last much longer.

 

[Toddy]

Cinnamon was those 'lucky potato' sweeties the ones that came dusted with the stuff, and left every kid looking like a mucky urchin....and they had a tiny plastic charm pressed into them while they were still soft. Couldn't do that now a days, folks would say it was a health and safety nightmare. Tasted so good though.

You're right about the bubblegum, it was just it's own weird taste.

Playdough always smelled of bitter almonds to me. I suppose it was the bitterant added to stop kids eating it.

M

 

[Wander]

We used to have a holiday home on the south east coast in between Greatstone and Dungeness.
Behind it ran the Romney, Hythe & Dymchurch light railway.
That smell of steam and oil from the train brings me straight back to childhood and the large yellow flowers (that I now know are ragwort) that grew alongside the track and the millions of black and yellow caterpillars (that I now know are cinnabar moth caterpillars) that crawled all over them.
I occasionally still go down that way and all it takes is to hear the toot of the train whistle or a whiff of smoke as I pass the station and a life time of summer holidays on the coast come flooding back.

 

[Robbi]

Petunia oil. Oh man the memories. ☺☺

 

[Woody girl]

New mown grass brings back my childhood. Haymaking was a lovely time. We used to have horses so the smell of leather saddlesoap hay straw and horse manure and sweat bring back sweet memories.
A smell I've not smelt for a long time is the sweet hot dusty smell of wheat being cut on a hot summer day. No wheat fields near me nowadays.

 

[Robson Valley]

Sage is the smell of the wild great plains & bison country.
Kerosene from the lamps was always the smell of the lake house.
I carve western red cedar. The signature smell of my grandfather's boat shed in Vancouver.

 

[Toots]

For me it's the smell of mud baking on the exhaust of a 2 stroke trials bike. Invariably takes me back 30 years (or more) to a well spent youth.