If You’re Fond of Sand Dunes and Salty Air…
My grandmother has lived in Cape Cod (first seasonally then permanently) since she was a teenager in the 1950’s. Her house, which was built by her father, is within walking distance of a stretch of beach. Over the years my family have visited her and my grandfather, usually during the summer, so I have been lucky enough to experience the beauty and richness of the environment during the peak of the season.
The amount of smells floating around on a hot July day in Cape Cod can be quite overwhelming. If I were to close my eyes and image I had stepped onto her front yard, some things that come to are (but not limited to): hydrangea bushes; the faint scent of pine trees; sunscreen; a dry mix of sand and stone from the dirt road that forms yellow clouds mingled with the moist salty air wafting up from the ocean. These scents have a comforting and nostalgic effect on me, one that has been shared for thousands of years by secular and non-secular people alike. In the context of one midrashim, Songs 2:2, “The act of inhaling (heriah) the fragrance of the flower causes the king to feel a sense of calm and restfulness (shavath nafsho). As a result of this pleasant experience, the king ceases the destruction of the orchard and announces that he is sparing the entire orchard because of this one flower” (Green 125). Whether its a connection with a place, a memory, or a god, smell creates a link between the physical and ethereal.
Down on the beach, the air becomes so salty you can taste it. The baking sand, piles of seaweed, and tall, dry grasses that slice your fingers if you rub them the wrong way all to me create a place that feels sacred. Who knows, maybe the spray from the crashing waves is actually God saying hello, as "scent is the breath of the Divine" (Green, 162).
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