Aromatic triggers one of our five senses. It’s akin to hearing. It can be enjoyed and sometimes it leaves an indelible mark on us.
As some may know, I finished my working years driving a semi throughout the lower 48 states and Canada. I have some lasting memories – some good, other not so good. But one memory jumped out this morning when I read the word of the day – aromatic – it involves a stand of pine trees.
Barb and I called Oregon home at the period of time in question. We were accustomed to the scent of salty coastal spray, high-mountain fir and hemlock, juniper, and sage from the high, central desert. But my job, demanded that I be on the road, away from all this, for six weeks or 18,000 miles, whichever occurred first. Once my week at home was over I generally picked up and load near my home and returned directly to the east coast. I generally stayed for the duration, driving north and south on I-95.
During the period in question I’d picked up a mixed load in Upstate New York and began my numerous drops as I headed for the west coast. Somewhere in Wyoming I left I-80 and followed a small road south that would intersect with US 40. My nose and sinuses were still filled with New York, Pennsylvania, the hot Interstate crossing Illinois and Iowa until late that night when my driving time expired. After finding a wide place in the mountains I pulled off the road and went to sleep.
In the wee hours I awoke with the urge to relieve myself. As I opened the door and stepped out into the silence of a full moon the scent of high mountain pine filled my lungs. It was intoxicating.
The scent fulfilled my definition of aromatic.