The Bird Wasn’t Wrong 11/7/2021

By: Jennifer Richardson Holt

There was a toucan on a kid’s cereal commercial when I was growing up that gave people the very interesting advice to “Follow your nose”.  Now if you are not from America, you may not know the cartoon bird I reference. He advertised a questionably fruit flavored cereal that didn’t particularly have any significantly moving fragrance (in my opinion) so I can’t say that I am certain as to why this was his tag line.  Though I am not going to say that his advice are words that we should all live by, which I feel is likely not something one should seek among cartoon characters, but he does have a pretty decent idea.  Scents are amazing things.  They say that the olfactory gland is directly connected to the part of the brain that is responsible for memory.  And if you are thinking of some smell that immediately triggers a very specific thought in your mind then you know very well that this most assuredly must be true.  So yes, that’s what I’m going to talk about.  Call it an idea from a toucan.  Bet you didn’t see that one coming any more than I.

The first smell I absolutely must mention is that of the Great Smoky Mountains.  I know I have written about it before, but I wish so badly that I could find some gathering of bits of the English language that can adequately describe this.  It lives in the very air of the region.  To me it smells faintly of cinnamon and earth and, oh I don’t know what else.  It is sweet and ancient. When I am blessed enough to experience it, I can almost hyperventilate by simply inhaling and exhaling to the extreme.  I would pay a small fortune to be able to bottle this scent.  The fragrance takes me to a place filled with ancient history and beautiful views.  It is a smell of an abundance of living things; some that live now, some that lived long ago.  I suppose it is probably only some simple combination of decomposing leaves and rich soil.  But surely leaves decompose elsewhere and I feel rather certain most trees grow from soil.  Why does it smell different here? I cannot say.  If I could I would most certainly make arrangements to cause all leaves within a tri-county area and all soil within miles of my home to perform in such a way as to allow me to be surrounded by a new intoxicating version of oxygen.  I guarantee that my lungs would be the healthiest that they have ever been, or at least the happiest.

I think we all know the magic of fragrance beyond those found in nature.  There is another collection of scents that may possibly hold even more sway.  And the smells to which I refer are those that come from our most beloved kitchens.  How many of us can think of the aroma of some special dishes that are tied to the very depths of our souls?  Maybe it is a grandmother’s cake with the decadent richness of butter and sugar.  Perhaps it is some delicate soup that a dear mother would make of which the mere scent recollection can begin the process of nursing you back to health.  Take for instance the season at hand.  To me this last part of the year smells like cinnamon and cloves and possibly apples and brown sugar.  These are fragrances that are the scent equivalent to a fuzzy blanket and a cozy seat in front of a roaring fire.  It is an amazing thing that just a smell can invoke a full moment in time.  I can remember the smell of chicken and dumplings that I don’t believe that I can ever separate from my aunt’s face. She has been gone more than twenty years and that smell brings her back like she was here yesterday.  The smell of rising yeast rolls takes me to a little house my parents rented when I was very small and watching my dad sit the pan of doughy magnificence on the mantle where it was warm.  If you’re southern the wafting aroma of baking cornbread dressing could invoke any number of holiday memories. I cannot name which holiday per se because we tend to like to whip up a pan for any holiday that we have opportunity.

I feel it safe to surmise that you have heard enough about the magical powers of the nose.  As I write this I am in my beloved Great Smoky Mountains. Here I have experienced a plethora of all the glorious fragrances that are enshrined within the corners of my heart. I have taken in the mountain air.  I have reveled in the fragrance of freshly baked biscuits that could not be adequately called cathead biscuits unless the cat was specified to be a Siberian tiger. I have breathed in rich leather in a store full of all sorts of craftsmanship.  I have taken in the perfume of hemlock in higher altitudes. Today, and really every day, breathe deeply.  Let what you experience take you on a journey to find magic that maybe you’ve stored away. Or perhaps make some new treasure you can cherish.  Who knew that a cartoon toucan was so wise?