Only a Whiff Away

I walked through a walnut orchard near my neighborhood, the early summer sun at the northern end of California’s Central Valley not yet warm enough to make my exercise a sweat bath. My mind wandered from my day’s to-do list to the beauty of God’s creation.

Without warning, I was transported three hours northwest and twenty years into the past. Ten years old, playing barefoot in the side yard of my small-town home.

I stopped in the middle of the orchard, wondering what had triggered such a clear memory of a time I wasn’t even thinking about. Looking around, I spotted the culprit and smiled. Moving closer, I fingered the large, rough leaves of a rogue fig tree. I inhaled its warm, spicy scent as I remembered climbing the gnarled 100-year-old fig tree next to our patio.

Smells trigger memories for me better than any other of the five senses. The fresh scent of lumber brings an instant picture of my father. The sweet, buttery fragrance of sugar cookies takes me back to running home from the bus stop and being greeted by the aroma of fresh-baked cookies and my mother’s smile. Wood smoke evokes family games of 42 dominoes or Back Alley Bridge around a picnic table in Yosemite by the campfire light.

In the books I read, I am drawn to the author’s description of what a place or person smells like. It strengthens my connection with the author. As a writer, I think about scents and include them in my descriptive passages often.

Not everyone is the same, of course. Some people are triggered more deeply by what they hear, taste, touch or see. That’s why it’s important for those of us who write fiction or creative nonfiction to use all our senses when we imagine a scene. We may not include every sense in every scene, but a sprinkling of all five makes our writing come alive, seem more real. We not only improve our writing but give ourselves a chance to connect with more readers.

That day in the walnut orchard thirty years ago, I learned something about myself and something about memory. When I find my mind abruptly traveling to a place far from my body, I inhale deeply. The reason is likely only a whiff away.