Smelling the garden
I think there must be a direct neurological connection between the receptors in our noses and our emotions. Nostalgia, joy, revulsion and depression can all enter through the nostrils, proving that we are still creatures of sense as much as sensibility. This is one of the reasons the garden is such a rich place to be. In a few moments I travel from the revolting smell of the bag of blood and bone by the garden shed, through to the ambivalence of the compost heap (sweetness and decay), past the acrid taint of the chook poo on a neighbour’s plot, to the bliss of brushing against the tomato and basil plants along the northern fence of the vegetable garden. I think I understand why Flash walks with her nose to the ground. The world sometimes is about smell more than any other sense.
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