In Search of Times Past.

RHYS BOWEN: Yesterday I was nostalgic about village festivals and today that nostalgia continues. I don't know, maybe it's advancing age but thinking back to the past seems to happen more often these days.
I was driving with the moon roof of my car open and I passed a small grassy area that had just been mowed. And suddenly I was back in my childhood. New mown grass was such a quintessential smell of summer in England. The English are obsessed with their gardens and every weekend the fathers would get out the old hand-pushed mowers and there would be that lovely smell of cut grass. Also the rhythmic sound of clackity-clack as the mowers were pushed back and forth.

My school had huge fields around it and there a tractor used to pull a giant mower so that the fields always looked pristine. In summer the smell of cut grass wafted in through open windows. Of course I should point out that it rains so much in England that the grass grows quickly!

The other smell that evokes childhood is that of a garden bonfire. In England we are allowed to burn garden waste and the smell of bonfire smoke would always be lingering. I grew up in an old house with an acre of orchard around it so there was always plenty of work to be done to prevent it from going wild. A funny story about bonfires: when we bought our first house in California the garden was horribly overgrown so we worked to clean it up and then.... we started a bonfire. And five minutes later two enormous fire trucks arrived outside the house. The firemen pointed out nicely that fires were not allowed in California but they still handed us a large fine!

It's funny how evocative smells can be. The particular smell of an old English church: damp, old books, but not unpleasant. My grandmother's house that always smelled of lemon furniture polish and cabbage and the lingering smoke of open fires. And my parents house. I can't describe the smell but I know it.

 One of the items I rescued when my mother passed away was her sewing box. My father had it made for her: three tiers that opened out on both sides, beautifully made. It stands in a closet downstairs and still contains anything I might need for sewing. I opened it the other day and instantly put my head down to it and breathed in the smell. And there it was: the house I grew up in. Maybe a hint of my mother's face powder. I closed my eyes and kept breathing, then hastily shut it up again lest the smell escape.

So what smells evoke childhood for you? I wonder what smells will trigger childhood memories for my children and grandchildren? I don't think my house smells of anything particular and I don't wear perfume....

But at the end of the month I'll be heading back to England and I find myself drawn to things that bring back my childhood: the thwack of ball against bat at a cricket match. The sight of children digging sandcastles on a beach. The cry of seagulls as the fishermen bring in their catch. And of course I head for my favorite childhood food items: bangers and mash, fish and chips, Cornish pasties, cream teas, and Cornish clotted cream ice cream--all horribly calorie laden, I'm afraid. But oh so worth those calories. Besides, English houses are so bloody cold (especially the big and drafty manor house where we'll be staying) that one burns off the calories. At least, this is what I'm telling myself.

Tis the Season of.... Good Smells.

RHYS BOWEN: Just as we are recovering from Thanksgiving the holiday parties start. Food, food and more food. Why does celebration have to revolve around plates piled high with calorie-laden food: pumpkin pie, whipped cream, corn bread stuffing, mince pies, chips and dip? Not that I don't love it, but by January first  I regret it deeply.

So I'm wondering if I'd get just as much pleasure if I invited people over for an evening of conversation and holiday smells. I love the scent of spices and fresh pine branches and holiday breads baking. For me they say Christmas more vividly than any actual food. Last year I bought a big candle that filled the house with a pumpkin/cinnamon/cloves sort of smell. It was a perfect way to welcome guests.

It's funny how evocative certain smells are to us, isn't it? The smell of a camp fire in the forest, of bread baking, they conjure up some kind of primeval feeling of security that must be in our genes. When I teach writing classes I always stress bringing a scene alive with the five senses, especially the scent of smell.

I can think of a couple of smells that whisk me straight back to a time and place. The first is chlorine from an indoor swimming pool. A strange choice, you might think. But when I smell it I start to crave cheese rolls. There is a reasonable explanation for this: when I was a teenager my friend and I used to go swimming once a week at the indoor swimming baths. The water was freezing and afterward we were so cold that we went to the cafe next door and had a cheese roll and hot chocolate. That roll was perfect--crusty fresh bread stuffed with sharp cheddar cheese.It's a pleasure I enjoy replicating.

Another smell that takes me straight back to a time and place is my mother's sewing box. My father had it made for her--it opens in layers with room for all her sewing needs. I brought it back from Australia after she died and when I need any kind of sewing tool, it's probably in that box.  I open it and instantly I'm back in my parents' house in England--that old smell of damp and furniture polish. Now I put my nose deep into the box and breathe deeply, taking myself home again, if just for a second.

So I'm curious to know, Reds: are there any smells that are evocative to you in the same way?

HALLIE EPHRON: Smells are so evocative. My mother used Elizabeth Arden skin cream and it had a distinctive tangy orange-blossom smell. When I got home from school, I could tell if she was home by whether or not the house smelled of cigarette smoke. And I confess, I pick laundry detergent by its smell. GAIN wins by a mile.

LUCY BURDETTE: Oh Rhys, those cheese rolls sound like heaven! But I don't think a party with good scents but nothing to eat would be very satisfying:). As for smells that take me back, my mother wore Tweed perfume and Jean Nate after-shower spray. I don't see either of those around too much any more, but they come with distinctive memories. And the other day I was riding my bike home from the gym and passed the MARC Plant Store on Seminary Street. Oh my gosh--the scent of pine needles screamed "Christmas." I smiled all the way home.

HANK PHILLIPPI RYAN:  Hallie, was it Elizabeth Arden Visible Difference? I used that, too, in the 70's. And when I smell it now, it brings back so many memories of those days in Washington DC! At one point they threatened to discontinue it, and I bought a whole slew of it. When we went to Sunday School, all the ladies at temple wore Youth Dew--my sister and I would pretend to gag, so now I laugh every time I smell it. (Sorry, Estee Lauder, it smells...matronly.)  Before my Mom died, she (unbeknownst to us) put together boxes for each of us kids of all the stuff of ours she'd saved--school papers, and photos, and clippings, souvenirs and memorabilia. She taped up the boxes, and had them shipped to each of us. When I opened the box, I got a whiff of--I don't even know what it was. Perfume, and home, and Mom, I guess. I keep the box tightly closed now, and sometimes flip it open to sneak a bit of the fragrance.

SUSAN ELIA MACNEAL: In New York City, people come and sell evergreens on city sidewalks. One minute, you're in the city, and the next you're transported to a forest of pine trees in Maine. The smell is absolutely delicious. One of my absolute favorite things about the holiday season in the city.

DEBORAH CROMBIE: Hank, what a lovely memory. My mom liked L'Occitane Lavender in her later years--just a whiff of that scent makes her seem so close. And isn't it funny how a variation on a scent can call up something completely different?  There's a chemist (drugstore) at Notting Hill Gate in London that carries Yardley English Lavender. Whenever I go in the shop I have to use the tester, and suddenly I'm fourteen again...

And Rhys, here's one as weird as chlorine for you: I went to Mexico City for the first time when I was nine. And now, oh how many years later, whenever I smell diesel exhaust I'm right back in the center of Mexico City on a hot day. I just wish we could write books with smell-o-vision:-)

RHYS: So how about you? Is there one particular scent that is evocative for you?

And tomorrow we're celebrating the launch of Red Lucy Burdette's new Christmas book. Don't forget to check in and find out all about it!