Friday, April 13, 2007

Those senses

I'm just amazed at how strong the sense of smell is and the ability a scent has to trigger memories.

To this day, the smell of flowering jasmine turns my stomach as a reminder of year end exams. (and I haven't studies for exams in about 13 years!)
This week happy memories were triggered by my sense of smell. I pulled out this old tin of crayons given to me by my grandmother about 25 years ago. As a 10 year old, I treasured them, they weren't just the normal wax crayons.These are called "non-fading crayons for painting". I was being archival then already! See the yellowing sellotape as I had tried to keep them whole. They have a very distinctive smell and as I opened the tin, memories of my childhood creativity came flooding back.

In between my deadlines this week, I revisited one of my favourite activities - colouring in. Stephanie, one of my friends in California does the most amaZing doodles, and challenged us to do something fun with a doodle she had created on her blog. The colours have changed somewhat in the scan, but I think I like the vibrancy.

Really hoping she comes up with some more "colouring in pages". There was definitely something in their for me. Being creative in a way other than scrapboooking awakens the creative process.

Give it a try. Pull out one of your kids' colouring books and PLAY!

I'd love to hear what scents trigger your memories.



fi said...

The smell of kerosene sends me into a spiral of despair. When we immigrated from Scotland when I was very little, I was hysterical about leaving my Gran behind and the airport smelled like kerosene from the jet fuel. I always associate the two...

Anabela said...

For me it's Nivea cream... When we were little that's what my mother used on us for sunblock. Whenever I smell it, I vividly remember long summer days, splashing in the water, wearing my blue (not yellow) polka dot bikini, at the Borrowdale swimming pool in Bulawayo - Good times!

vicki said...

A roast cooking on a sunday morning brings back memories of my father preparing lunch before going to church and leaving it to cook so that it would be ready when we got back.