I wish there was some way to capture scent, someway to trap it in a book, upload it to the computer, catalog it to revist at a later date. It amazes me the way a passing breeze can offer even the faintest whiff and I am instantly transported through time and space, a pulse of rememberance much more powerful than anything intentionally recalled. There are some scents that get me every time – fabric softener blowing hot from the dryer vent, my children’s sweaty heads or my husband’s pillow, the hiss of gas before the burner ignites, the sweet bouquet of jasmine that saturates Savannah this time of year. Other times I am caught completely off guard, unable to even recall the exact mix of scents that triggered the sudden flash of walking though early morning Italy on the way to get coffee, or idling on the Greyhound Bus at a truck stop on an elementary school trip. Odd how our brains are wired. Odd and wonderful and maybe the not understanding makes it all the more so.