Smell

September 19, 2017

An olfactory palette of woodland humus, acrid wood smoke, and fading goldenrod greeted me as I meandered through the countryside this afternoon. This morning, it was the rising fog, misty in the air, carrying the fragrance of the grass. I breathed deeply as I rode, inhaling the unseen beauty that was in the air all around me. One of the reasons I like riding my sidecar bike is the ever changing smells that are impossible to detect when riding in a cage with windows up, air conditioning blowing. 

A dead skunk on the side of the road makes its presence known no matter how tightly the windows are rolled up; on a bike, the aroma is simply glorious, assaulting the nose like a prizefighter, leaving you teary-eyed and wheezing for breath. The fragrance of newly mown hay is sweet; that of what’s left after the cows have eaten it, not so much. But even the manure spread on the fields is not unpleasant unless it has been fermented in one of the huge liquid manure ponds common to the larger farms. 

Fall is particularly pungent with decaying leaves, forest detritus, and air that releases those scents by its very crispness, which is the other reason I like riding in the fall. Ascending even a small hill, the rise in temperature is distinctly noticeable, while the descent into a valley is a lesson in how quickly cooler air settles. Connoisseurs of great food or drink have an entire vocabulary used to describe that which can really only be experienced. Much of that vocabulary would be appropriate to describe today’s ride, but would only sound hokey. Needless to say, aside from the visual beauty that surrounded me today, the tactile feel of the air hitting my hands and face, and the olfactory smorgasbord from which I tasted, are gifts from God himself for which I am thankful tonight.