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maribouThere is a picture of me taken shortly after I learned to walk wherein I am bent more or less in half, deliberately faceplanted into a fulsomely petaled yellow-pink rose. That's the earliest evidence on record of my rose-sniffing habit ...
I still poke my face into every rosebush I walk past along our street (and the whispered rumors that the amazing mostly-rose garden on the corner of our block was a major reason why I picked our house - knowing I would get to walk past it twice a day - may in fact be substantiated), but I developed an allergy to all rose-smelly things that aren't actually roses about 5 years ago, and I was very sad that I couldn't have rose soap or rose perfume or rose bubbles or rose candles anymore. Plus I seem to lose at least one floral scent to the land of instant headache every few years, and that was one of the last ones I really loved.
Except tonight I opened up a rose jar candle on a borrowed desk, because I'd been looking at pictures of sweetbriar and I really wanted to smell me some roses and sometimes the sense memories are worth the headache ... and it was unexpectedly oily, and I got it on my hands, and I've been surreptiously sniffing my fingertips for at least twenty minutes ... and I don't seem to be allergic one bit. One has high hopes, and is glad the vendor is still in business.
I still poke my face into every rosebush I walk past along our street (and the whispered rumors that the amazing mostly-rose garden on the corner of our block was a major reason why I picked our house - knowing I would get to walk past it twice a day - may in fact be substantiated), but I developed an allergy to all rose-smelly things that aren't actually roses about 5 years ago, and I was very sad that I couldn't have rose soap or rose perfume or rose bubbles or rose candles anymore. Plus I seem to lose at least one floral scent to the land of instant headache every few years, and that was one of the last ones I really loved.
Except tonight I opened up a rose jar candle on a borrowed desk, because I'd been looking at pictures of sweetbriar and I really wanted to smell me some roses and sometimes the sense memories are worth the headache ... and it was unexpectedly oily, and I got it on my hands, and I've been surreptiously sniffing my fingertips for at least twenty minutes ... and I don't seem to be allergic one bit. One has high hopes, and is glad the vendor is still in business.
