The Scent of a Woman, the Scent of Life

I walked early today along the Patapsco River. The first Mothers Day since my mother passed away last year. It was one of those perfect spring mornings bursting with life that fills your senses. Green had completed its takeover of the forest. The river current rushed swift and deep, fed by last night’s rains further west and upstream. The air smelled of moist damp earth and the river had a hint of the salty scent of the ocean. The life giving energy of the river and the soil was in my nostrils, the freshness of new growth mixed with the muted scent rotting fallen trees and brush, enriching the soil that once gave them life. I tasted it on my tongue, heard it in my ears, as birds sang, small streams burbled and the river current splashed over rocks. I saw it in the small flitting birds, the swimming ducks, ducklings and geese on the river, the majestic blue herons. I felt it in the air on my skin. It was beautiful complex and sensual. But all the other senses were trumped by the scent of Mother Nature and life.

Every woman, mother, lover, or daughter, has her own distinct scent, absent any added perfume. It is the scent that is embedded in a man’s head, and remembered like a name whenever he smells it. It is the scent of life that only women have.