Bay Laurel, Eucalyptus, Cedar Mulch
The memory: a young boy, at some old Renaissance faire in Northern California – probably the legendary one held at Blackpoint forest in Novato. Vendor-lined paths meandered through lightly wooded hillside; costumed patrons tarried beneath Bay laurel, live oak and Eucalyptus. Cedar mulch had been laid on the paths to keep down the late-Summer dust.
For a Tolkien-besotted kid like I was, and at the cusp of adolescence, it was a mazey, bewitching world. And it’s the smell of Bay, Eucalyptus and Cedar mulch that retrieves it for me, so many years later. |
So, it’s true. Researchers have pretty much confirmed that our sense of smell – more than any of other senses – can trigger memories and emotions from our earliest childhood.
There are a few possible reasons for this; one is that smells are processed in a region of our brain that is directly connected to the hippocampus and the amygdala – the regions of our brain that deal in memory and emotion. Data from our other senses – visual, auditory, tactile – do not pass through these brain areas.
Memories provoked in older people by verbal and visual cues are most often from early adulthood; memories provoked by smells are most often from the first ten years of life.
Memories provoked in older people by verbal and visual cues are most often from early adulthood; memories provoked by smells are most often from the first ten years of life.
A stand of Bay Laurel in Marin County
Our ability to discern and associate smells seems to far outstrip our linguistic abilities. We can describe what something smells like, but we can’t describe the smell itself. There are no hot, or blue, or bitter smells.
There is a particular bouquet of smells here in the Bay Area that is pungent with extra-linguistic memory and laden with pre-verbal emotion for me. California Bay Laurel, Eucalyptus, Cedar mulch. Mexican marigolds.
No language for it, then, but I have to try to explain what all these fragrances have in common. They’re all strong, for one. Crushing a young bay laurel leaf, brushing up against the delicate foliage of Tagetes Lucida, even just a hike beneath a palisade of Eucalyptus after a drizzle: the smells can be overpowering. Some say it can cause a headache, or make you feel a little dizzy. Astringent, tannic, chemical, spiced, piney, citrusy. Human words for chemical strategies to evade predatory insects, I suppose. I’ve always thought someone should make a soap scented with Tagetes Lucida, Mexican marigolds.
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There is a border region running along many valleys between the hills of the Bay Area. The moisture collecting along the valley floor enables that lush riparian tangle – alder, horsetails, green and muck. A little higher up the slope, coastal live oak and bay laurel. A little higher up the slope -- if some century old landowner in the region shared a dream of becoming a lumber baron – towering stands of Eucalyptus.
When the wind blows the Eucalyptus creak and snap, in conversation with the elements.
When the wind blows the Eucalyptus creak and snap, in conversation with the elements.
To walk along the hillside after a rain or a heavy dew is to be beset with odor. Bay and Eucalyptus are not subtle in their aromas. They are provocative and overwhelming.
Their smells heavy the air around them. Breathing that laden air is as overpowering as standing beneath one of those massy alpine walls of granite, towering up and obscuring the sky.
Their smells heavy the air around them. Breathing that laden air is as overpowering as standing beneath one of those massy alpine walls of granite, towering up and obscuring the sky.
But I, with my always-occluded sinuses, am grateful to be overpowered by these arboreal odors.
Many of these photos are taken by Ken Cheetham, fine photographer and generous sharer-of-skills.