Fragrance Quote for January 30th, 2012- Around the Fire Place by E. P. Powell

There is nothing finer in Spring time than a bonfire. It should be spelled bonne fire, that is a good fire, as it is in every sense of the word. Of course you know all about this. They are full of all sorts of sweet odors, and the smoke has a tricky way of chasing you about, and puffing memories into your face. It doubles back, and tumbles over itself to get at you, sending up your nostrils little sniffs that recall every year of your life. Twenty years ago you smelled exactly that odor, and sixty years ago you were in the old Blount lot, kindling stumps. Bless my soul! How the pictures rise! Will it always be so? Will the trifles of eternity call up every forgotten scene and thought of the past? Will we sit on the knolls of memory, while the hemlock fragrance rolls up the slope, out of the hollow, where the dear father is boiling maple sap? I can smell at this moment, in memory, the old straw bee hives that were kindled each Spring of my boyhood, on the asparagus bed. The little mother would say: "Be spry there, my lad, and bring the litter before the fire burns low—for the sparrowgrass needs ashes, or it will grow slim and tough.'
Fragrance Quote for January 30th, 2012- Around the Fire Place by E. P. Powell