Poetry

We remember the smells of summers past

Ann Robbins Talbot


The moist, muddy smell of salt flats as we near the ocean at high tide
The burning smell of sparklers as we make circles in the dark celebrating the Fourth
The gasoline smell as we have our Chris Craft filled at a Winnipesaukee pier
The soothing smell of baby oil as we tan our young bodies, not understanding the risk              
The field smell of newly mown hay as we ride the wagon picking up heavy bales
The fruity smell of lemonade as we cool off on the porch of a rented cottage

The hot, dry smell of wild flowers at the entrance gate to Trailblazers Day Camp
The buttery smell as I learn to crack open a steaming lobster in Lanesville
The clean smell of hops as we tour the Anheuser-Busch Brewery
The horsey smell of stables as we tent too close to a Colorado corral
The cool smell of earth as we stand in awe at the feet of giant redwoods
The lack of smell at the rim of the Grand Canyon as our sense of sight takes over

The harsh marigold smell as we try to keep animals out of the vegetable patch
The shampoo smell as the 4-H kids ready their lambs for the show ring
The sweet rosey smell of blossoms tended so carefully in Cape Cod gardens
The spicy yellow mustard and red ketchup smell at a backyard barbecue
The greasy smell of batter in hot oil as we wait in line for our order at the Clam Bake
The salty, pure smell as we visit the surf at Pine Point Beach one more time

The unique smells of summer live in my memory.

September 2, 2005


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