Hay
Soil
Pipe tobacco
Leather
Sawdust
DuftJunkie
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Grandpa, Is That You?
... and the little boy pressed his nose against the subtly laundry-scented sweater of his grandfather; unaware that he would never see him again.
The little boy was already very excited. He was traveling with his mother to his father's hometown in the central Anatolian highlands. No, his beloved father was not there. He was in faraway Germany. But someone else he loved just as much was in that village: his grandfather.
The little boy's mother was less thrilled about this short trip from the city center of Ankara to the province. She had to deliver some bad news to the old man. Her husband had decided to bring the family to Germany because of the civil war.
The beautiful village on a hillside was reached. As the bus doors opened, the little boy was already running down the dirt path towards the village. In the distance, at the entrance of the village, he saw a figure and couldn't quite make out who it was. He ran towards it and recognized the silhouette of his 'Dede', which means grandfather. To be sure, he called out: "Grandpa, is that you?". The figure in the shape of an old man knelt down and opened his arms. Grandpa and grandson embraced each other, enveloped by the earthy scent wafting from the nearby fields. As the boy looked into the joy-filled eyes of his grandpa, he could still smell the hay from the barns and the light manure scent he appreciated from the stables. Manure was valuable and versatile in the countryside. Used in the spring on the fields, it was dried in the summer and now in the fall used as fuel.
After mother and grandpa had talked about the upcoming emigration to faraway Germany, grandpa came to the little boy. It seemed as if a few tears had hidden under the shining eyes of the grandpa. Understandably so; this boy was the youngest son of his youngest son. After his departure, the old man would have no more grandchildren nearby. The other grandchildren had already moved far away. Grandpa hugged his youngest grandson to his chest and called out to his wife to shoo away the geese. The little boy sensed something was wrong and broke away from grandpa. He shouted: "No, she shouldn't do anything to the geese!" Grandpa was surprised and assured the boy that it was only about an egg. Shortly thereafter, a fried egg (of the special kind :-) was prepared on a cooking spot outside. The boy wondered how a single egg could fill an entire pan. The scent of the pine wood used for the fire stayed in his mind. Even 35 years later, he would love that wood scent, even if many only considered it sawdust.
In the evenings, it always got very cool in the countryside. The little boy thought that even the mules were better equipped against the cold. They practically always had their fur with them, and on top of that, a leather saddle. His beloved grandpa only had simple gloves made of two-ply wool yarn. But a comfort for the little one was that grandpa could light a cigarette or a pipe if he got too cold. And at night, he would have his wife, dear grandma, by his side. The very woman who seemed to wash her husband's sweater every evening, so that this simple sweater smelled subtly and pleasantly of laundry the next day.
The inevitable day of farewell came. Grandpa held his youngest grandson close to his chest, and the little boy pressed his nose against the subtly laundry-scented sweater of his grandfather; unaware that he would never see him again.
Today, after more than 35 years, the little boy, who has now become a mature man in his prime, sits on a chair and sprays some of Brosius' Greenbriar 1968 on himself. The first thought that crosses his mind is: "Grandpa, is that you?"
-Thank you very much to Yatagan for this beautiful olfactory experience-
The little boy was already very excited. He was traveling with his mother to his father's hometown in the central Anatolian highlands. No, his beloved father was not there. He was in faraway Germany. But someone else he loved just as much was in that village: his grandfather.
The little boy's mother was less thrilled about this short trip from the city center of Ankara to the province. She had to deliver some bad news to the old man. Her husband had decided to bring the family to Germany because of the civil war.
The beautiful village on a hillside was reached. As the bus doors opened, the little boy was already running down the dirt path towards the village. In the distance, at the entrance of the village, he saw a figure and couldn't quite make out who it was. He ran towards it and recognized the silhouette of his 'Dede', which means grandfather. To be sure, he called out: "Grandpa, is that you?". The figure in the shape of an old man knelt down and opened his arms. Grandpa and grandson embraced each other, enveloped by the earthy scent wafting from the nearby fields. As the boy looked into the joy-filled eyes of his grandpa, he could still smell the hay from the barns and the light manure scent he appreciated from the stables. Manure was valuable and versatile in the countryside. Used in the spring on the fields, it was dried in the summer and now in the fall used as fuel.
After mother and grandpa had talked about the upcoming emigration to faraway Germany, grandpa came to the little boy. It seemed as if a few tears had hidden under the shining eyes of the grandpa. Understandably so; this boy was the youngest son of his youngest son. After his departure, the old man would have no more grandchildren nearby. The other grandchildren had already moved far away. Grandpa hugged his youngest grandson to his chest and called out to his wife to shoo away the geese. The little boy sensed something was wrong and broke away from grandpa. He shouted: "No, she shouldn't do anything to the geese!" Grandpa was surprised and assured the boy that it was only about an egg. Shortly thereafter, a fried egg (of the special kind :-) was prepared on a cooking spot outside. The boy wondered how a single egg could fill an entire pan. The scent of the pine wood used for the fire stayed in his mind. Even 35 years later, he would love that wood scent, even if many only considered it sawdust.
In the evenings, it always got very cool in the countryside. The little boy thought that even the mules were better equipped against the cold. They practically always had their fur with them, and on top of that, a leather saddle. His beloved grandpa only had simple gloves made of two-ply wool yarn. But a comfort for the little one was that grandpa could light a cigarette or a pipe if he got too cold. And at night, he would have his wife, dear grandma, by his side. The very woman who seemed to wash her husband's sweater every evening, so that this simple sweater smelled subtly and pleasantly of laundry the next day.
The inevitable day of farewell came. Grandpa held his youngest grandson close to his chest, and the little boy pressed his nose against the subtly laundry-scented sweater of his grandfather; unaware that he would never see him again.
Today, after more than 35 years, the little boy, who has now become a mature man in his prime, sits on a chair and sprays some of Brosius' Greenbriar 1968 on himself. The first thought that crosses his mind is: "Grandpa, is that you?"
-Thank you very much to Yatagan for this beautiful olfactory experience-
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