Smells

Weekend before last on my Sunday jaunt with the dogs, I got to thinking about the smells of each season. This was precipitated by the smell of duff and pine that the heat of the morning sun activated. I thought about how each season has a smell, from the smell of decaying leaves and crispness in the fall to the sharp, cold, sometimes smoke-layered smell of winter, which is also the time when I smell muskiness from different animals. Early spring often smells to me of rain and dirt, and green—hard to define those smells. “Friend Charlie” expressed smell quite succinctly in a quirky little watercolor on exhibit in our Russell gallery: All Who Know Me Respect Me. Since the piece is on loan, I cannot attach its image here, though one can come to the Historical Society to see it. I will attach a hint at the subject, which many of us with dogs know all too well.