This morning there was a big fiasco involving about 312 crayons, one basket and one toddler who made the erroneous assumption that he is really hilarious. He's not. Well, he wasn't this morning at 5:30 a.m. when I was on my belly on the floor trying to sweep the crayons out from under the coffee table with him jumping on my back like a rodeo star and yelling, "WEEE HOOOOOO!"
We have a very large basket of crayons, most of them broken, that was sitting on the floor from last night's art session. While Tristan was running around this morning he kicked the basket over and crayons went flying everywhere. To his 2 year old brain, with it's erratically firing neurons, this must have looked similar to a great 4th of July fireworks show or maybe free margarita night and a ringing slot machine in Vegas. I surmise this because his eyes immediately lit up and he tried to reproduce the incident by then kicking the basket and piles of crayons all around like a riverdancer on crack. By the time I could get over there to stop him, all 312 crayons were spread in about a five foot blast radius around him, many of which ended up under the couch and the coffee table.
But back to me on my belly...
While I was down there trying to get all the crayons back in the basket, I breathed deep the smell of wax and dye and it immediately zapped me back many decades to a dim and dusty garage in Hawaii. Two little girls sat huddled together with a box of crayons and a crayon sharpener. We sat there for hours whittling crayons into a milk carton, presumably to make a candle out of it, but I don't remember ever actually finishing it. I don't even remember my little friend's name, I only remember that smell and sitting in that dim garage one afternoon feeling happy and productive.
What smells transport you to another time and place?
[photo: Darren Hester]
There's something so integral and base about smells that take you back in time, isn't there.
ReplyDeletePut me in an elementary school and the memories flood back. They all smell the same for some reason, and they smell just like they did 40 years ago.
The smell of rain on the dry earth takes me right back to my childhood in Africa, and the relief that the rains had started at last, that the storm clouds which had been building for days would leave.
ReplyDeleteMmmm I *love* new crayon smell. If that happened here, I'd be fighting the dog for every last crayon. He loves to chew them. Weird dog.
ReplyDeleteI love to 'time travel' even though I can't think of a specific incident to share. I have a constant stream of images and 'video' running through my head and I often switch between what I'm thinking to memories,etc. Sometimes it's frustrating.
the smell of Charlie perfume, or a linen closet (you know, that clean, slightly dusty smell?) reminds me of my grandma Dolly
ReplyDeleteI you like the smell of crayons take a whiff of "real" wax crayons.......they are intoxicating!
ReplyDeleteAll of you who have posted so far -- awesome imagery! I can just imagine these experiences.
ReplyDelete@envie: "weird dog" is right!!
@victoria: "real wax"? Is there a fake wax?? Do you mean bees wax? See, I don't even know what a crayon is made of. Maybe paraffin? All I know is they smell good and some dogs like to eat them. LOL.
thank you for commenting on my site. I enjoy reading your writing too :)It's nice to find a blogger who is actually a good writer, and you are!
ReplyDeletewould you like to exchange links?
Real crayons are made of beeswax!
ReplyDeleteVictoria, I have you in my "places I hang out" list on my sidebar. :)
ReplyDeleteBeeswax is heavenly. What a great scent. I have never had a "real" crayon!
The smell of wet clay always brings me back to being 6 years old and running through the woods in Maryland in my bare feet. Mud squishing through my toes.
ReplyDeleteThough, I'm sure it was no fun for you, I had to laugh at your little one's antics. I remember when my kids were little. My youngest fancied herself to be Picasso reborn and would color all over the walls every chance she got...with my $20 lipstick.
ReplyDeleteMy mom told me that she painted her kitchen a new wonderful color and later in the afternoon my brother "redid" her cabinets over with a red jumbo crayon. Boy oh boy. I'm surprised he's still alive.
ReplyDeleteMothballs. My great grandmother kept them all over her house and every time I smell them I am instantly transported back to 10 years old playing in her "upstairs" that was really just the attic they had opened up. Great memories!
ReplyDeleteThe smell of old books. The decay of paper, the light scent of the hundreds of fingers that have read over the pages, that musky almost basement smell. Ah happiness, and a childhood spent at the library hoping to find something awesome to wisk me to some magical place.
ReplyDelete