Wisteria - A scent from the past

Troubled times in Turkey coupled with an elderly Mac desktop that has not only eaten my photographs and won't cough them up but also appears to have not been communicating with my posh, expensive back-up system for a while, have forced me into a blogging quiet patch.  So today I'm concentrating on immediate pleasures that can be captured with an iPad, and a glance back to 3 years ago when we all had less to worry about.  I'm not usually an envious person but I have always wanted a wisteria plant and would cast covetous glances at the masses of purple blooms that cascade over houses and fences on my daily walks.  I was under the impression that wisteria took years to grow and always cursed my lack of forethought at not planting one when I first moved to Bodrum. Two years ago I bought a small wisteria in a pot and planted it behind our house in Bodrum, not expecting to see any flowers for years.  I'm not green fingered so can claim no part in producing the profusion of flowers that hang over our garden wall today, but it's a joy to sit and look up at the tumbling lilac flowers. It almost gives me the courage to have another go at sweet peas. 

Friday 12th April 2013

It's heating up in Bodrum and my daily walks are getting warmer and warmer.  As summer approaches, the late Spring scents are particularly strong in the morning and as I head down to the harbour, there is one particular aroma that sends my thoughts tumbling back to the 1970s.  I pass an untended mandarin garden that is in full flower but its negligent owner has not bothered to collect all the fruit so there is a heady scent of blossom with an underlying hint of overripe citrus. It's a dead ringer for Aqua Manda, the ubiquitous whiff of my early teenage years.  If I close my eyes, I'm 14 years old, in a Laura Ashley flowing dress with massive puff sleeves and a multitude of tiny buttons, trying to emulate a medieval damsel or Babs from  Pan's People. 

On the way back home I pass this fence full of wisteria which is another blast from the past as I was also a fan of Mary Quant's Wistaria perfume oil.  I must have been older when I wore this as I had to take the train to London  to stock up; Rugby being too provincial to sell Mary Quant.

My sense of smell seems to evoke much stronger memories than sight or sound and whip up a more intense feeling of nostalgia.  I'd love to hear about the aromas that take you back to your youth.