Fragrance Quote for January 27th, 2012-Richard Rosny By Maxwell Gray

Rosny took the shortest way home, and opened the gate with that warm and intimate sense of comfort and peace that never failed him at sight of the cottage. Strange that hearts should cling to brown tiles and weathered brick walls in this tenacious way. The scent of the clematis tangled about the windows was a voice from the fairyland of infancy, the chimney's blue smoke curl against the lime-top's autumnal gold a breath of romance, the mignonette's sweetness a caress; the windows shining in warm sun, the trees, the garden, the fields, and the sea—all had kind and welcoming faces for him; no other spot on earth could have the same lasting lifelong charm. A lemon verbena ran over a sunny wall by the door and was rarely passed without a casual touch of its scented leaf, though it died down with the first frost every autumn; it was older than his oldest memory; its fragrance held all the poetry of life.
Richard Rosny
By Maxwell Gray