Musings
an Online Journal of Sorts

By Alyce Wilson

It's starting to feel like fall, but it's happening so gradually you can barely tell. It's just that day after day you need slightly warmer clothing. And there are more squirrels running around.

The weather is not quite cold enough for a winter coat yet, but it was cool enough this morning I needed a thick sweatshirt under my fall jacket.

Normally by this time of year, I'm deep into thinking about what to wear for Halloween. But this year I'm not even certain I have Halloween plans. I need to work that out with my sister, since we usually do these things together.

The only problem is, it smells like cigarette smoke, which really bothers me, especially having it right on my face. So I might just take it back where I found it.

My sense of smell has been particularly keen lately, at least until this morning when I woke up with sinus congestion. For the last week or so, I've been aware of a number of unpleasant smells in my neighborhood and in my house, things nobody else around me seems to notice.

For example, a couple days ago I woke up with a headache. When I walked my dog, the whole neighborhood smelled like a factory burning chemicals. It was terrible.

My keen sense of smell seems to come and go, so in times of maximum sensitivity, I have incense available, or scented candles. I can never tell what's going to bother me next.

I wonder what if this is what it's like to be a dog? Except, of course, that most strong scents that bother human are smells that dogs would love. Haven't you ever taken a dog for a walk when suddenly they stick their nose into something absolutely horrid? And then you have to pull them away forcefully?

Dogs are lucky they enjoy bad smells, because there are far more unpleasant smells than pleasant ones.

I'm often surprised when The Gryphon can't smell something I'm complaining about. It's like seeing a spectrum of light no one else sees, except stinkier.

I once knew somebody who had no sense of smell. She was born deficient in that sense. Of all the senses to lose, it didn't cause her too many troubles. But one side effect was that she really couldn't taste things very well.

She was a violinist, for which smell is rarely necessary.

Believe it or not, for about six months I lived with a smoker, that being The Luser. To this I attribute, in part, my terrific sense of smell. You see, my senses were so dulled during that time that when he left, they returned with a vengeance. And everything smelled like an ashtray! I had to wash everything in the apartment. Twice.

Some smells I like are also allergens: fresh cut grass, fresh flowers. I also like the smell of cooking (but not the next day when the scent is still hanging around), basil, cloves, patchouli, clean dogs (not wet dogs, you understand), the salt air of the seaside.

Some of the worst scents: nickel factories and paper factories, dead animals, dirty dishes, mold of all varieties.

The difference between me and my dog is the way our noses work. To them, smells are rich tapestries, complicated intellectual challenges. They enjoy figuring out what makes up a scent: "Just a hint of licorice, an undercurrent of mold and on top, a really delicate manure smell.

Humans have a more visceral reaction, as if the nose is hardwired to the emotions. "That dank metallic smell, metal and gym socks, smells just like the locker I got shoved into once in junior high."

Dogs, the intellectuals of the nose.

Copyright 2004 by Alyce Wilson

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