senses

.....kikobun with a soupçon of synesthesia

memory: the power of an odour it fills us up Blindfolded I walk through the garden, absorbing the smells of the plants I know so well. I turn right at the pungent touch of rosemary and sink to my knees by the salvia sage. Straight on for the sweet lingering scent of the yellow primula veris, the first pale yellow primroses to litter the ground with heavy tufts of their delight. Past the pond with the musty odour of still water, the fresh fragrance of the Beauty Bush [ Kolkwitzia] leaves me in no doubt where in my garden I am. I need no compass to find my blind way to the wall, from where I overlook the acres of grassland I can see in my mind's eye. A mixture of last year's June hay with fresh new growth coming up in a myriad of greens. containing depth earth lets itself be inhaled in one smell The shrub called Flowering Currant [ Ribes] wafts its sour scent and beckons me on to the greenhouse, where the contained warmth of the sun intensifies each and every flower's fragrance: the very first rosebud of the intensely flavoured rose called Rosa "Arthur Bell" and the hothouse lily with a slightly overwhelming scent. The freesias which have no business being in flower before the end of April, and the musty smell of the pelargoniums: not nice but indicating the presence of their glorious pink flowers. And not to be forgotten, this phlox divaricata, called "Clouds of Perfume" and giving language to the scent outdoing all others. bittersweet where it borders on taste, more honeysweet where you can feel it touching the very first sounds of Spring

Written for a prompt at CarpeDiem