Tag: perfume

Posted on

Happy Spring! I’ll See You Outdoors!

Just when it seems like I can’t wait another day for winter to end, the signs of spring appear in my high valley. Yes, there may be spring snowstorms at times, but winter’s icy grip cannot hold on much longer. New calves and lambs make their entrance to the world. Green shoots burst through the sod from life-giving bulbs. Tiny leaves unfurl on my rose bushes. It won’t be long until I can smell the roses’ heavenly perfume. Robins fan out in my yard, turning their heads towards the earth. Tiny flowers grow in the grass.  

In The Rime of the Ancient Mariner, Samuel Taylor Coleridge penned these words “He prayeth best, who loveth best All things both great and small; For the dear God who loveth us, He made and loveth all.” My mother had a close connection with nature and with nature’s Creator. Both of my parents imparted love and respect for nature, nurturing it at every opportunity. Nature is the best place to recharge, reconnect, resolve, and redirect. Out among the trees and plants, nature is healing.

One little plant, freshly springing out of the earth or a rock, reminds me how nature highlights hope. My mother loved gardening and plants. She had the Garden of Eden in her heart. She could not bear to throw away a healthy leaf or stem broken from a plant. She put it into water, sand, or soil and started another beautiful plant from the broken bits.

In her things, I came across a note my mother wrote, but had not yet mailed. The front of the card had Marjolein Bastin’s painting of dusky rose-pink peonies with green leaves, buds, and a butterfly. Inside, my mother wrote, “Here are some peonies for you – Just wonder if you could grow them in your area? The colors are so lovely & they make a gorgeous bouquet! Love – Jeannie.” The card did not get addressed, but it was just like her to spread beauty wherever she could.

To this day, I feel an irresistible attraction to nature and the pure joy of surrendering to the call of the wild. I love to hear a bird’s jubilant song as a harbinger of hope. One of my favorite things to do is to inhale the spicy, refreshing, healing scent of pine, fir, spruce, and balsam trees. At night, my heart beats faster to see the stars sprinkled across the galaxy. My mother’s love of nature spills over into my life in so many ways.

In nature, I contemplate the splendors of majesty, the mysteries of the Divine, and the themes of eternity. I feel closer to God in nature. The connection between God, human beings, and the natural world is an irresistible call to be answered; something to be experienced as often as possible. Just as Chiaroscuro uses the interplay of shadow and light to hide or to accentuate the most important elements in art, so nature uses light to reveal secrets. The light our first parents lost because of sin in the Garden of Eden will be restored. One day, there will be no dark shadows: all will be light and beauty, an unspoiled landscape of wonder to explore. I will see you there.

Today, I will satisfy my love of spring by seeing what else I can find in my own backyard. Some birds are calling me. I’ll see you outside!

I believe in love and forgiveness.

Take care,

Charlyne 

Posted on

How to Keep the Honeyed Sweetness of Summer

I love summer! When I was a child summer held a special freedom. As much as I loved school, it was enjoyable to have more time for play and especially more time with my family. There were more trips to the beach, various parks including Griffith Park and the Los Angeles Zoo, the swimming pool at Rocketdyne Park, and the mountains. On a fine summer’s day, there was more time to walk barefoot in the grass, play on our swing set in the back yard, go for bike rides, extra trips to the library, and night time star gazing through our father’s telescope. I would not trade our camping trips out under the starry night skies for all the palaces in the world.

Yes, it was too hot sometimes. If I complained about the heat, my mother would remind me the summer sun was needed to make the gardens and crops grow. I noticed the perfume of the roses, honeysuckle, and other flowers was much stronger on a hot summer day. We didn’t have air conditioning in our home, so we threw open the windows for the cool, fresh air of night and early morning. Often it was chilly enough for a summer-weight blanket on the bed. As the temperature began to rise mid-morning, we closed the windows and drew the drapes and curtains to hold some of the cooler air inside. Drawing the drapes also kept the summer sunshine from heating the house even more. We also used electric fans to make a cooling breeze inside. We splashed cold water on our faces and ate fruit popsicles. The most languid days of summer were spent trying to stay cool and reading books.

Sometimes, my father would say, “Who wants ice cream?” On the way to 31 Flavors, my brother and I would laughingly say, “I scream, you scream, we all scream for ice cream.” It was fun to look at all the flavors and choose a special one. The frozen sweet cream was good to the last honeyed taste. When it was hotter than hot, we headed for the swimming pool, the beach, or even our kiddie pool under a shade tree in the back yard. At the beach, the cool Pacific Ocean waters of Southern California made us shiver. Then the hot sunshine felt good as we warmed up for the next plunge under a cooling wave. 

Summer’s charms also brought the 4th of July fireworks and sparklers, Vacation Bible School, lemonade, guessing cloud shapes in the sky, strawberries galore, corn on the cob, watermelon, and a whole week at summer camp. Without the heat of summer there would be no juicy peaches. There were road trips to visit my grandparents where the leisurely days turned into weeks of memories to last a lifetime. Then, all too soon, it was time for back-to-school shopping and earlier bedtimes. I learned how important it was to embrace each day.

These days, I love the soft glow of the golden hour. As dusk steals over the land, fireflies come out to play. Soon the twinkling of the fireflies is replaced by the lights of a starry night sky, like diamonds sparkling against a backdrop of black velvet. And come August, the crickets will begin their chirping song. Before long, the geese will begin their long flight south from Canada, honking encouragement to each other as they travel their aery courses. I’m reminded to embrace these remaining days and nights of summer, for all too soon, glorious autumn will make her majestic appearance. Can the cold of winter be far behind?  

But sweeter than ice cream on a hot summer’s day, or the perfume of roses wafted on summer breezes, or firefly dances at dusk, is the sweet fragrance of forgiveness. Forgiveness is a way to keep the honeyed sweetness of summer all year long. My mother believed forgiveness was the greatest gift one could give or receive. Forgiveness cools the searing heat of anger and hurt. Forgiveness leaves a sweet, honeyed taste to one’s life. Forgiveness is the bright light of forever. Forgiveness is the most powerful thing one can do.

I believe in love and forgiveness.

Take care,

Charlyne 

Posted on

The Perfume of Love and Forgiveness

I love to write, so why does the first blank page of this blog induce a bit of anxiety? My first book, “A Year of Wearing My Mother’s Perfume,” is almost finished. My mentor says writers need a webpage with a blog, even if they haven’t published anything yet. So here I am writing to you, but in reality, it all began on a rainy Monday when a reporter wanted to interview me about my mother’s death two days earlier when an 18-wheeler tractor-trailer crashed into her waiting car at a red light. Many people wondered how I could forgive the truck driver. This story of forgiveness begins with my mother.

From the scene of the crash.

The day after my mother’s death, I looked at her smooth cherry dresser. Among the other pretty things, a mirrored tray held her perfume bottles. Some were vintage and some were newer. I lifted one of the beautiful bottles, caressing the cool, smooth curve of the glass and drew out the stopper. Molecules of memories came pouring out of the jar. Fragrance is the most powerful trigger of memories, especially early memories.  

Some of my mother’s perfumes.

The reporter was waiting for my reply. Thoughts raced through my mind. I didn’t know how the reporter and cameraman found my mother’s house. GPS didn’t work in the mountains where her house was located. I didn’t want to be interviewed in my heartbroken condition. I was grieving, exhausted from lack of sleep, as well as going through my mother’s house to find her will. I was disheveled from cleaning after all the company who visited from out of state. The suitcases of family who remained were all over the place. I thought the reporter couldn’t have come at a worse time.

I made my apologies, but then as the reporter turned to go, she said, “Don’t you want people to know what kind of mother you had?” It suddenly struck me. Yes! I did want people to know what kind of mother I had. In the course of the interview, both the reporter and the cameraman had tears. When evening came, I watched the gripping interview. Already, my mother’s perfume was scenting the air.

The essential ingredients of my mother’s life, her ideals and practices, are distilled and blended to make a beautiful perfume that infuses my life to this day. These essential ingredients come from an ancient source. I would love to share some of her secrets with you. Please join me on this journey as we talk about the perfume of love, joy, and forgiveness.

Take care,

Charlyne Cox