The odors arising from the valley on these cool moist August morns are almost as sweet as those given forth from the earth mold when before the breath of the south wind its shroud of snow melts in March or early April. Up they come, that of peppermint, of everlasting, of pennyroyal, of fully ripened blue-grass stems, of half decayed oaken bark, of a double score of other things, all meeting, mingling and forming a potpourri of fragrance which my nostrils feast upon. Of the five senses the naturalist while in the open gains through sight most pleasure; then through hearing, smelling, tasting and touching in the order named. Thanks to the fates which rule over my destiny my sense of smell is yet as good as ever, however dimmed my eye or dulled my sense of hearing.
Woodland Idylls
Writings of Willis Bletchley