|
marc
|
 |
Needs to get a life! |
Registered: March 2003
Messages: 4729
|
|
|
I think there is nothing like opening a fresh tin of good tea and taking a good whiff.
Yummy........
Life is great for me... Most of the time... But then I meet people online... Very few are real friends... Many say they are but know nothing of what it means... Some say they are, but are so shallow...
|
|
|
|
|
timmy
|

 |
Has no life at all |
Location: UK, in Devon
Registered: February 2003
Messages: 13796
|
|
|
New rain on dry earth
Author of Queer Me! Halfway Between Flying and Crying - the true story of life for a gay boy in the Swinging Sixties in a British all male Public School
|
|
|
|
|
|
The smell of rain/snow in the air of an apple orchard. Crisp and clean and natural.
It's not the wolf you see you should fear, but all the ones he howls with. Don't be afraid of the song, but don't piss off the choir.
|
|
|
|
|
|
That which occurs when one backs a batch of Toll-House cookies. It's such a cozy scent.
viðrar vel til loftárása
|
|
|
|
|
|
No Message Body
viðrar vel til loftárása
|
|
|
|
|
|
No Message Body
viðrar vel til loftárása
|
|
|
|
|
saben
|
 |
On fire! |
Registered: May 2003
Messages: 1537
|
|
|
The smell I miss most is the smell of gum tree, eucalyptus leaves. Another smell I like a lot is warm milk... Not sure what my favourite smell is, though...
Look at this tree. I cannot make it blossom when it suits me nor make it bear fruit before its time [...] No matter what you do, that seed will grow to be a peach tree. You may wish for an apple or an orange, but you will get a peach.
Master Oogway
|
|
|
|
|
|
Freshly baked bread.
Hot cinnamon and vanilla rolls.
Ground coffee (but not the finished beverage).
Orange peel being broken apart.
A steaming mug of cocoa.
A tall glass of bubbling Coca Cola, with a slice of lemon.
Earl Grey Tea, leaves or brewed.
The scent of a forest; leaves, pine needles, decaying vegetation. All of it summed up.
Early summer flowers in a sunny late afternoon with the sun low in the sky and a faint haze of dust in the warm air.
Gingerbread men in the oven.
The insides of a Thai restaurant.
Blueberry pie with custard, like my adoptive father makes it.
Turkish Pepper salt licorice bonbons.
...and the list goes on...
"But he that hath the steerage of my course,
direct my sail."
-William Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet, Act One, Scene IV
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
the air, in summertime, just before a heavy rain.
gasoline.
shiloh's blankets.
my conditioner, whose name i forget right now. vibrance or vibriance or something.
lilacs & lavender.
my void does not want.
-- 2.13.61.
|
|
|
|
|
|
The perfume: Champs Elysée, it reminds me of walks along the Mosel with one of my friends.
You said when you'd die that you'd walk with me every day
And I'd start to cry and say please don't talk that way
With the blink of an eye the Lord came and asked you to meet
You went to a better place but He stole you away from me
|
|
|
|
|
|
Fresh ground coffee, like Lenny said
Oiled leather....but no hand-cuffs, please...we're talking saddles, here, ok?
When Man is cooking (which he mostly does in the out-doors section of our kitchen), the smells of the spices mix with the scents coming from the flowers in the garden. An amazing combination, I have to say.
"Always forgive your enemies...nothing annoys them quite so much." Oscar Wilde
|
|
|
|
|
|
1. Forest after a rain.
2. Mulled wine and gingerbread men made by mom at christmas.
3. Grandma's home. I don't know what it is, but it has it's own smell to it
That which is dreamed can never be lost, can never be undreamed.
-Master Li in Neil Gaiman's Sandman
|
|
|
|
|
smith
|
 |
On fire! |
Registered: January 1970
Messages: 1095
|
|
|
Yesss Setras My Grandma and Grandpa's house in Alabama had this huge attic with a door and stairs you walked up. They always kept it locked but in the summer, but when my brother and I would visit, they would hand me the key. It was one of those old-timey keys, you know, heavy and about 4 inches long. It was on a long leather strip and I'd put it around my neck. We'd open the door and this smell would whoosh out....musty and closed. I'd forgotten that smell till right now. We'd play all kinds of pretend until time to go to bed. I was always the captain and my little brother was always the second in command. I loved that attic so much.
One other that I forgot.....the fragrance of night blooming confederate jasmine in the fall and spring. It grows wild all over the fence lines and up the huge oak tree outside my window. It explodes about dusk and you can almost OD on the smell.
|
|
|
|
|
|
Steve
|
 |
Really getting into it |
Location: London, England
Registered: November 2006
Messages: 465
|
|
|
I think that my very favouritest smell is that of chips straight out of frying pan and nestling in the Daily Mirror. (All you people from the 'other' side of the Atlantic call "chips" French Fries.) No other newspaper gives the divine odour that comes from the Daily Mirror. (I haven't smelt it in years!)
|
|
|
|
|
robert bryce
|
 |
Really getting into it |
Registered: January 1970
Messages: 414
|
|
|
We over in the promised land have often wondered about that odor,wondering what they put in the brown ink.....HEHEHEHE.........rob
|
|
|
|
|
robert bryce
|
 |
Really getting into it |
Registered: January 1970
Messages: 414
|
|
|
Fav smell is MONEY,lots of it...............rob
|
|
|
|
|
|
Hey! Jasmine is one of the bestest smells from our garden here in Asia...don't know if'n it's Confederate jasmine or not, tho...they never had a civil war here. Just regular brushes with the Burmese...does that count?
"Always forgive your enemies...nothing annoys them quite so much." Oscar Wilde
|
|
|
|